Journal of the Zombie Years
by MotherHeninFlorida
Summary: Story written in daily journal format. Covers not only the drama of group survival but several real life survival tools and techniques. How does a family not only survive the end of the world as we know it, but thrive? If you're prepared for zombies, you are prepared for anything. Resemblance to characters in other copyrighted works is purely coincidental.
1. Prelude

_**Author's Note:** This story has a very slow build in the beginning. It also covers a lot of "real life" for the characters and since it is a journal there will be a lot of day to day chores and issues that are covered and dealt with along the way. I hope people will read and review._

* * *

 **Sissy's Journal**

I feel a little guilty for taking the time to do this when there are so many more urgent things I could be doing but I really need a place to vent. Scott is all wound up with trying to keep our income coming in and the security stuff. The kids are alternately glued to the TV when we let them have it on or grudgingly trying to keep up with school work and their chores. Me … it seems I'm stuck trying to keep everything else together and trying to inject some normalcy here and there in our suddenly far from normal lives. I'm not even sure where to start but I suppose in case anyone besides me reads this I better start somewhere near the beginning.

Scott and I have always been into survivalism. At first it was just a hobby brought on by watching too many really bad disaster movies. You know the genre with one word titles like Inferno, Earthquake, Volcano, Pandemic, or Tsunami. In those days, most of our plans were as unrealistic as the cinema features were. How about bugging out to Walmart or a local Mall and living the good life while the world crumbled? Or, how about planning to pile into the family car and camp out in the woods until things returned to normal? Never mind that we didn't have a place in the woods that was secure, the equipment to camp out with, or the skills that kind of life required. We were so naive. Life isn't a thing like the movies.

It was once the kids started coming that we had to really grow up. First Rose, then James and after a little while Sarah and Bekah. Johnnie is our youngest, and though a surprise, not an unwelcome one. As our family grew, our plans for survival matured. Surviving was no longer just a good conversation starter or a hobby. Surviving was now something we had to do because there were little, defenseless people counting on us.

Over the years we've actually had a chance to put some of our equipment and skills to use and to test them for flaws. One autumn vacation we were caught in an unexpectedly bad storm that kept our family out on a backcountry trail off of the Blue Ridge Parkway two days longer than we had planned. Then there was that time the car broke down on Interstate 15 between Las Vegas, NV and San Diego, CA on the hottest day of a record breaking heat wave. The hurricanes and other weather events we've faced here at home are certainly worth a mention or two as well.

The last few years we had also started prepping for things like war, economic collapse, or general civil unrest. Of course with the way things were going any one of those three could have caused the other two at the same time. Then there were those pesky germs that seem to be getting more and more virulent – extra drug resistant tuberculosis, avian influenza, hemorrhagic fevers, and lots of other little nasty viruses and bacteria. But of all the things we were prepared to face, I can tell you we never even had a clue that we'd be facing what we are facing these days.

No matter how much Scott and I have talked about it we still can't figure out how this nightmare started. There are so many conflicting reports. Stories run the gamut from the disease being a bizarre mutation of a naturally occurring necrotizing bacterium to a biological terrorism event that got out of hand. Then there are the fringe groups that believe that it is a disease from a meteor that made it through the atmosphere and some that don't believe it is a disease at all but a Judgment by the Creator for the sins of this world.

Zombies.

There. I typed it. I still can hardly believe it but there you have it. Zombies.

The thing is it isn't like any of the movies portrayed it. At least not where we are at. At least not yet.

The few facts that have been confirmed that are being given to the public is that whatever is causing this disease – and I still insist on thinking of it as a disease despite the crazies and their wailing and gnashing of teeth – is that it started over in Indonesia. It quickly spread through most of the islands of that nation and then into places like Papua New Guinea, the Philippines, and other areas of Micronesia. It was once it reached Malaysia and Cambodia that it was finally noticed by the Media and we began to hear about some strange new illness of unknown origin. The problem is that many countries in Micronesia and Southeast Asia tend to be very secretive. Once the disease made inroads into countries like China and Australia though, all bets were off. I have to admit, at that point Scott and I thought it was going to be some kind of Flu Pandemic though with unusual symptoms.

Here it is months later and there isn't a nation in the world that has escaped having to deal with this disease. Luckily, whether viral or bacterial, it only seems to be transmitted by body fluids. The transmission has to be done in very close proximity to the infected individual because whatever the disease is it doesn't "survive" outside of a host body. They've tried getting samples to study but the rate of decay of the fluids makes it impossible, it even decays in subzero temps. They've also been unsuccessful at duplicating whatever it is in the lab, which might be a good thing. That leaves observing and experimenting on victims that have been captured just after infection.

Unlike in the movies this stuff is spreading slowly. The only reason it made it into the US was because some whacked out Mexican gangs were using zombies as weapons against each other. Stupid idiots. The Border Patrol do all they can, but it's nearly impossible to completely control border crime and find all of the underground tunnels that have been built over the years.

The disease is now endemic in most of the western US and in places that have a high immigrant population. Even though it is now a federal offense to not report Necrotizing and Reanimation Syndrome (NRS) the people in those populations are too scared. They are afraid of being forcibly deported back to countries that have fewer resources. In some countries, it's an automatic death sentence to even be within a mile of an infected victim. A shot to the head that destroys the brain or complete decapitation and the government can say they've done all they can to prevent the disease from spreading any further. All that fear hasn't helped obtain public cooperation, it's just driven people underground. That's why I've started restricting even the Rose and James' access to the television. There are too many stories like that these days. So far only condoned in other countries by foreign governments, but the vigilante movement here in the US may not be far behind.

Well, no more time for journaling. Scott just drove up and I need to get dinner on the table. Tonight is the night we have to decide what we are going to do next. Do we try and keep operating like normal or do we pull the kids out of all their activities and sequester them here at the house? Now that we have our first case of NRS here in Tampa, we can't put this decision off any longer.


	2. Day One

**Day One**

Sounds kind of melodramatic but that is what this is. Day one of a new way of doing things.

This is the first time all day that I've had the time to sit down and add to this journal. I may have to stick to doing this at the end of the day unless I can write things down in bits and pieces as the day goes on. Today hasn't been pleasant at all. After what Scott saw last night and what came out over the radio after he got home the "discussion" we were going to have about sequestering the kids was kind of moot.

The first case of NRS turned out to merely be the first case of several. They caught the first one early yesterday morning before Scott had gone to work at the rental properties. I hadn't wanted Scott to even go to work after we heard the news, but what choice was there? We still have a mortgage and sundry other bills that have to be paid. They've caught NRS zombies in other cities and it didn't stop the world from turning or the bills from coming due.

Last night, martial law was declared in our little corner of the world. Apparently the first NRS victim was one of a nest of NRS-positive homeless people that were found hiding in and under an old crack house in central Tampa just outside the area of town that caters to the Ybor City nightclub scene. Mixed in with the group was a prostitute that had been reported to her parole officer for skipping on her landlady, a teenage girl who had been listed as a runaway in another state, and a young man who had been listed as AWOL from MacDill AFB. The kid was fresh out of basic training and his parents had said he was freaking out after his first Zombie Detail Training Session (ZDTS).

The nest was 12 people in size, possibly more that were yet unaccounted for. The NRS Response Committee is basically shutting Tampa down for at least a week to assure that no more NRS-positives remain in the area. All schools are closed for the week. No group gatherings are being allowed for at least as long. The interstate system and the bay area bridges are all closed down. There is a dusk to dawn curfew for adults and no one under the age of 18 is allowed to be out unless accompanied by a parent or legal guardian. No one is being allowed to pass without at least two pieces of up-to-date identification, one of which has to be a picture ID. Scott said he was stopped three times as he tried to make his way home from downtown. They were screening everyone at the off ramps of the Interstate.

The kids freaked out a little last night during our family conference, at least Rose did. Nothing like trying to explain to a highschool kid why you are turning her life upside down and depriving her of all of her hard earned pleasures of senior year. James wasn't very happy either but, being two years younger and not as social as his sister, he isn't coming unglued quite as badly. Sarah, Bekah, and Johnnie refused to sleep in their own rooms last night; absolutely refused. They've moved into the master bedroom for the time being and I have to admit I'm not totally against it. It was just as comforting for me as it was for them to have them so close.

After listening to the radio all day long, as well as the all-news channels, all I can think of at this time is I'm glad that Scott and I have our crap together already. I've heard that the gas stations and grocery stores are a nightmare despite the fact that no one is supposed to be doing any unnecessary traveling. There have been several near riots. Shelves and bins have been emptied as if a swarm of locusts took over the stores devouring anything and everything that could be considered edible. All of the convenience foods and freezer foods of every grocery store and mini-mart in the city have simply vanished. There was even a rash of fast food restaurant robberies; not for the money in the registers but for the foods in their stock rooms and freezers.

Before everyone went to bed last night Scott and James closed and locked all of our storm shutters and we've closed and locked the roll down doors that can only be activated from the outside of the house. It makes the house incredibly dark and cave-like but I do feel safer having our entry ways secured. We've made sure our fire exit plan works, but otherwise our house is now like a vault.

Scott and James were doing other things as well like bringing in the lawn furniture, securing our vehicles, and a few other things before it got dark. Today they will finish all of that stuff off and will further secure our fuel storage, both for the vehicles and for our propane grill.

For my part I went through and re-inventoried all of our food. Between all of our preps and the stuff I've been home canning and preserving over the last couple of seasons, we have nearly a year's worth of food for seven people at 2000 calories/day/person. That's nothing to sneeze at, but it's only going to last if I'm as careful as I can be with what we have.

The other thing I did was inventory what I had in the refrigerator and freezer to see what I needed to use up first.

My inventory of the refrigerator reveals the following:  
• An almost full gallon of milk (15 of the 16 cups that make up a gallon)  
• One quart of orange juice  
• A variety pack of sandwich meats  
• Half of a 2-liter bottle of 7Up soda pop  
• A half bottle of Bloody Mary Mix left over from a party at your neighbor's house  
• Some flank steak that you hadn't put into the freezer yet  
• Two loaves of sandwich bread  
• 1 package of hamburger buns  
• The tail end of a small can of pineapple juice  
• Large tub of margarine or butter-flavored spread  
• Lots of miscellaneous opened condiments.  
• Several blocks of cheese as well as a couple bags of shredded cheddar cheese  
• Most of a pie brought home from work that is leftover from an office luncheon.  
• Two and a half packages of sliced bacon  
• Half a container of sour cream  
• Some fresh salad fixings  
• Two green bell peppers  
• Small bag of onions  
• A small bunch of celery

The inventory of the freezer reveals the following:  
• frozen bread dough  
• several pounds of butter  
• a quart of vanilla ice cream  
• a 4 lb pork roast  
• a 2 lbs. Boneless chuck roast  
• Several pounds of chicken pieces  
• Two frozen pizzas  
• About two pounds of shrimp already peeled and de-veined, but not cooked.  
• A medium sized beef brisket (fresh, not corned)  
• Bag of corn on the cob  
• A couple of pounds of ground beef  
• A pound of ground pork sausage  
• Large bag of frozen hashbrowns  
• A bag of frozen chicken nuggets

I also have:  
• A small bunch of bananas on the counter top  
• A bag of mixed apples (golden delicious and red primarily, but there area also a couple of green Granny Smith apples)  
• A large box of Twinkies that was a panic buy at SAMs because I thought they would last forever and are individually packaged as well  
• A partial back of snack food such as Cheez-its  
• An unopened can of Coca-cola that I found where it had rolled under the passenger car seat of my van.  
• Several bags of potatoes that are kept properly stored

If I work this out right I should be able to make all of that last a week with some odds and ends left over. I'm so glad that I got that order of stuff in from Honeyville last week. Fifteen hundred dollars knicked our savings pretty good, but in exchange we now have 130 #10 cans of basic long term food storage items including a couple cases of powdered whole eggs.

I know food and cooking isn't nearly as glamorous as guns and shiny gold and silver coins, but it'll bring a whole lot more comfort in the long run. You can't eat bullets and who knows when or if we'll be able to spend those rolls of coins. Besides food and cooking is what I know. And it's the only way I have right now to comfort my family as we face this huge challenge together.

For breakfast this morning I mashed enough of the bananas to make breakfast. I hid the rest of them so that they aren't a temptation for snacking. Johnnie is especially bad at grazing through the day on anything that he can find in the kitchen or pantry. I don't care what they say, a four year old can eat just as much as a teenager when he puts his mind to it. I'll use the rest of the bananas up to full advantage over the next couple of days. I also had to tape the 7 Up closed and let everyone know it is for cooking and not drinking. I took the flank steak out of the refrigerator and set it to marinating for dinner in a gallon ziploc bag. I also took the pork roast out of the freezer and put it in the refrigerator so it will thaw and be ready to set to marinating in the morning.

Breakfast: 7 Up Banana Bread; everyone prepared their own beverage of choice - such as coffee or tea. I wouldn't let anyone drink the gallon of fresh milk; it will be needed for other things. I gave everyone a small glass of OJ for breakfast and that finished off the quart of orange juice. I rinsed out the plastic jug and left it to dry in the drainer. There are a number of things you can do with a plastic jug and who knows when I'll be able to get any more.

Lunch: I made sandwiches from one loaf of bread and the variety pack of sandwich meat. I also used up most of the chips that were leftover. I gave the kids a small glass of milk with breakfast (that used up 3 of my 15 cups).

Dinner: Fresh salad topped with whatever dressing(s) was opened in the refrigerator. I made Lemon-Lime Flank Steak, white rice, and black eyed peas. For dessert we had the remainder of the leftover pie. As for beverages, I have started to keep a pitcher of Kool Aide or some other drink mix made and handy. Scott, Rose, and James prefer water.

After dinner I sanitized the gallon ziploc bag I used for marinating the meat. I want to re-use it tomorrow to marinate the pork roast in. The little bit of empty room I made in the freezer was easily filled with a 2-liter bottle of water so that they can freeze. I'm worried that officials won't be able to contain all this civil unrest and we'll see some power outages as rioters damage infrastructure.

After another family conference, we now have a more formal chore chart hanging on the refrigerator so that no one can make excuses about not knowing what their responsibilities are. So far the civil unrest hasn't reached our end of town but if it does Scott and I are going to have to take turns taking a night watch. Rose and James can help during the day, but I'm just not comfortable using them as guards at night while their dad or I sleep. I don't know if I could sleep under those circumstances anyway.

Speaking of sleep, that is what I am off to do now. Scott and I could stay up all night talking about "what if" but that won't help us in the morning. And tomorrow is going to be a full day. We are building a disinfection station at the side of the house. With no new NRS-positive victims it looks more and more like they are going to try and get things back to normal by the end of the week which means Scott will have to go back to work. I can't even think that far ahead I'm so tired.


	3. Day Two

**Day Two**

Another day of no new information. Well, no news is good news I guess. We kept the radio on all day no matter where we were or what we were doing. We managed to get the disinfection station up before lunch time and then Scott sent the kids into the house so he and I could hash some things out.

I knew I wasn't going to like what he had to say. I don't take being dictated to very well at all and it looked like I was about to hear my husband lay down the law. He had the "man of the house" look on and that usually doesn't bode too well. And after we finished our "discussion" it took everything I had not to throw something at him.

It's not that I don't understand where he is coming from. I'm trying to be realistic. What I didn't like was the dictatorial way that he laid it all out. I know he only did it because he thought he was doing what was best for all of us. It still made me want to chew horseshoes and spit nails. The worst of it was that I couldn't even really disagree with him. Oh, I guess I could have, but it would have just been for the sake of disagreeing and not because I really felt he was wrong.

It's not just the kids who will be sequestered, it's going to be me as well. That means no leaving the house for any reason. Scott doesn't even want any of us to leave the yard as that might put us too far from our security measures or put us too close to potential harm. I figured that was what was going to happen but I hated that he made the decision for me. It would have been nice to have at least had some semblance of say in what happened, even if it was an illusion.

What really burnt my biscuits though is that with his next breath he said he was going to start going back to work tomorrow. Argh! Yeah, yeah … I know it's necessary but that is another one of those command decision maneuvers that made me really unhappy. He is not expendable. It's no less risky for him to be out and about than it is for me. We need him here as much as the blasted tenants do. I resent that someone else is taking his time and protection away from us.

Bottom line is that I'm going to be at home with five very cranky and scared kids while he is going to be out and about trying to operate as normal. This is so going to be a challenge of gigantic proportions. And I'll never be able to be easy in my head or head until Scott comes home each night.

As far as the rest of the day went, it was par for the course. I started marinating the pork roast first thing in the morning. Tonight I used up all but the last quarter cup of the 7 Up, as well as the tail end of the can of pineapple juice and the ice cream. While everyone else was at breakfast I took a pound to a pound and a half of chicken pieces out of the freezer and put them in the refrigerator to thaw for tomorrow.

Breakfast: Use one of the Golden Delicious apples and some of the shredded cheddar cheese to make Apple Cheddar Scones; the kids have a small glass of milk each with their breakfast (15 cups minus the three cups used at lunch yesterday minus the three cups used at breakfast today leaves 9 cups of fresh milk.)

Right after breakfast, I set a jug of solar tea outside to brew. So long as the weather cooperates, this will be is likely to be the main beverage of choice for our meals in the afternoons and evenings from here on out. Only when solar tea is not an option will I use the cold brew tea bags from Lipton.

Lunch: I used the two frozen pizzas. Everyone is getting pretty stressed out as reality begins to set in. Pizza is definitely at the top of the list of comfort and fun foods when you have kids of any age.

The local media is playing the zombie angle for all its worth and everyone is getting glued to the television. If the stories aren't about NRS they are about the grocery stores and how nearly all the shelves around town have been completely cleaned out. There are also two stories, one local and one from Atlanta, where food bank warehouses have been broken into by angry mobs.

After lunch I started thinking about dinner. I had stored nearly 50 pounds of lentils so I thought that it was time for us to try them out. My family likes baked beans so I figured to try a baked version of lentils to get Scott and the kids used to a bean they aren't accustomed to eating. I had to start this dish right after lunch because it takes some time to cook.

Another thing to be glad of: the utilities are still on and long cooking times aren't a worry yet. In some of the foreign countries where NRS has become endemic, quarantines are making it difficult for the authorities to keep the public utilities up and running. It's not like economic problems and commodity shortages weren't already causing problems, but trade embargoes of countries where NRS is out of control has exaggerated everything.

Dinner: Pork Roast with 7 Up Gravy; Baked Lentils with Bacon; canned veggies; Too Cool Twinkie dessert; beverage is tea

I guess I'm going to have to start collecting my recipes and sticking them in this book too. It doesn't do me a whole lot of good to mention something if I don't have a reference for it.

After dinner, I made sure to rinse out the 2-liter bottle left over from the 7 Up and then re-fill it with water and stick it in the freezer. A full freezer is more economical to run than a half-empty one. And I have a feeling the ice will come in handy sooner or later. The little bit of 7 Up that remained was put it into a small container and saved for tomorrow morning. I also took some of the ground beef out of the freezer to make hamburger patties for lunch tomorrow.

Sounds almost normal but I guess that is the point. I'm trying to give my family "normal" for as long as I can. I have a nasty feeling we are going to be living abnormal in the not too distant future and for who knows how long after that.


	4. Day Three

**Day Three:**

Today Scott went back to his regular work schedule. I was on pins and needles all day. I fixed him a basket of lunch and snacks and added another case of water bottles to his van. When he asked me why all I could say was "just in case." At least it made me feel better to know that he'd have something besides those nasty tasting energy bars to fall back on if he got stuck somewhere.

I had an awful scare today. The phones all went dead; the landlines and the cell phones. I couldn't get Skype to work on the laptop either which led me to find out that the FiOS connection was down. There is no reason that all of those should have gone down simultaneously. Everything was down two hours and I felt completely cut off. Scott wasn't too happy either. Aside from interfering with his ability to complete work orders, he said he nearly came home because he worried if there was an emergency we wouldn't be able to reach each other. So far, there has been no explanation from Verizon or the media as to what caused the outage. Now is not the time for authorities to go all mysterious. There had to be a purpose or reason to it but I can't fathom it at the moment.

The menu today was pretty good. Its gonna be awful when all the fresh and frozen meats are gone. First thing this morning I took the thawed chicken pieces out of the refrigerator and put the ingredients for "Garlic Brown Sugar Chicken" to cook in the crockpot. This recipe used the remainder of the 7 Up from the 2-liter bottle. I've got several cases of soda hidden around the house but I'll save them for a surprise on down the road if things get bad. I'm definitely feeling the caffeine withdrawal though from not having my daily can of cola. The tea I've been drinking instead only helps with this a little. I'm trying to not let the withdrawal make me cranky, but it isn't easy.

Breakfast: I used another one of the apples and some commercially packaged pancake mix and made Apple Cinnamon Pancakes. The milk needed for the pancakes left me with roughly 8 cups of fresh milk and it is getting close to its expiration date.

Lunch: I Pan-fried some hamburger patties. That used up the package of hamburger buns that was in the refrigerator as well as a few of the potatoes when I made home fries.

The store-bought bread is going quick. I started a batch of Amish Friendship bread starter. It's not fancy but at least this way I won't have to break into my yeast bottles until I absolutely need to in case things go back to normal sooner rather than later. I needed three cups of milk to get the batch of starter going so that left me with about five cups of fresh milk. I hate to see the end of the fresh milk, but I don't see any choice at this point. It will be ten days until the first batch of starter is ready, so that means I'll need to plan on cornbread and homemade tortillas to slack our family's craving for bread. If the Amish starter works I might try my hand at a traditional sourdough starter. Right now I already have too many other projects going.

Dinner: I made Garlic Brown Sugar Chicken and served it over rice since I have so much of it. I must have 600 pounds of rice in various containers. I had considered noodles but given I'm not that great at making homemade pastas, I'll save my store bought noodles as long as I can. I also made baby carrots the way we like them using the recipe I got from the Cracker Barrel restaurant chain. Since the fresh milk is already on the cusp of expiring I went ahead and let the kids share three cups of milk between them. James and Sarah were so sweet and let their three younger siblings have their portions. That leaves me with 2 cups of fresh milk out of the gallon I started with.

While we were eating dinner, I baked Pumpkin Apple Bread for tomorrow's breakfast. It takes an hour to bake and I didn't want to have to get up too early in the morning after all the work that I did today. Besides the dirty dishes I make and clean tonight will be dirty dishes that I don't have to clean tomorrow. Saving time and water is a good habit to get into.

The kids finished up their chores and went to bed nearly two hours ago. Scott is asleep as well as he put in a full day at the apartments. We had another AV unit vandalized to get at the copper. They cut the chain link fence with bolt cutters to get at it. The renters say they didn't see or hear a thing despite being home all day and night. Scott isn't buying it and is really frustrated at yet one more major expense being unnecessarily dumped on us.

I haven't been able to wind down just yet. I don't know why as I spent most of the day outside working on our edible landscaping and getting my container garden going. James helped me reinforce some of the fence sections and we also put a lock on all three gates into the backyard. I should be very tired but I can't seem to stop going over my plans again and again looking for ways to make them better. It doesn't help me go off to sleep that they've found another NRS-positive in the same area of town where they found the original nest. Nor does it help that the evening news reported that NRS has been found in nearly a dozen new locations across the country. How on earth is this stuff spreading like it is?


	5. Day Four

**Day Four:**

I've been paying for my nearly sleepless night all day. I've been dragging around and practically falling asleep at every opportunity. It was a stupid choice to just sit up no matter how nervous I was. In the future I'm going to have to force myself into getting more rest even if that means a toddie or a little pill. One of these days I may not have any choice but to be up for days on end, but when I don't I need to, I need to use some commonsense and keep myself healthy and alert.

This morning I took the beef brisket out of the freezer and put it in the refrigerator so that it could thaw and be put in the crockpot first thing in the morning tomorrow. In place of the brisket, I added a water bottle to fill up the extra freezer space. I also boiled a couple of eggs to go into the tuna salad I fixed for lunch so that they would have time to cool.

I keep wondering if we are going to have any utility interruptions that will cause me to have to break into our alternative cooking equipment. Other cities are dealing with them sporadically. Interruptions are being caused either as a direct result of damage to infrastructure – usually 'cause an NRS-positive blunders into some main power lines or equipment – or because contamination, quarantine or city embargoes create fuel shortages. I can easily see that happening around here. Scott has already mentioned that he is going to have to start carrying one of our spare cans of fuel with him. He nearly ran out of gas before he found a gas station open that actually had fuel to pump.

Today is day two of the Amish Friendship Bread Starter. All I needed to do was stir the mixture. The starter already smells like a science experiment run amok. I've put it in a gallon ziploc bag to try and keep the yeasty odor from permeating the whole house. The central air conditioning helps keep the house from getting too rank but if we lose power I may need to prop open some of the shutters, at least during the day.

Breakfast: The Pumpkin Apple Bread I made last night was perfect for breakfast. Some of us ate the slices plain and some used preserves or butter. Johnnie enjoyed having a little drizzle of honey on his slice. It was nice not having a major clean up right after eating.

Lunch: For lunch I fixed tuna salad sandwiches and let the kids eat the crumbs out of the bottom of the bag of chips. That finished off the jar of opened sweet pickle relish in the refrigerator. It also put a dent in the opened container of Miracle Whip that is in the frig, but I have several more unopened bottles where that came from in our prep stockpile.

Everyone has their own handy-dandy version of tuna salad but I make it the same way my mom did when I was growing up. But something really struck me after Bekah asked me how to make tuna fish sandwiches; I better start gathering all of our traditional, but rarely written down, recipes someplace the kids can find them. If something happens to Scott or I the kids aren't just going to lose a parent, they could lose their heritage and that would be very sad. I also need to have the kids take turns helping to make meals from here on out to make sure they have all the skills they need. Its depressing to think about not being there for my kids; but I guess as a good parent that is the kind of training that I need to give them to make sure they can be self-sufficient

I tried to divide the remainder of the fresh milk between the kids at lunch but it had soured. At first I was angry about wasting what could have been used earlier, but then I decided to make a double batch of sour milk biscuits to go with dinner which made better use of the milk anyway. It was awful to see the last of the fresh milk gone, but it was inevitable. I have a lot of cans of evaporated milk and what seems like more powdered milk than we could ever use. I put several cans of evaporated milk into the refrigerator to keep it chilled. From here on out I need to make sure that there is always a pitcher of cold water handy to make up some powdered milk for drinking. I want to wait a few days before I actually start using the evap milk or powdered milk which will give everyone a chance to have cravings. They will likely be more accepting of the difference between fresh milk and powdered by that point. Or at least I hope.

Dinner: For dinner I fixed Cajun Shrimp Stir fry. We also had the Sour Milk Biscuits and a Bacon and Rice Creole casserole. For dessert everyone had a biscuit with butter, jam, molasses or honey.

The kids had kitchen duty tonight so I was at loose ends for a minute until I remembered that I wanted to do something special with that frozen bread dough. I took it out of the freezer and set up a pan for Cinnamon Buns which is now sitting in the refrigerator and ready to go into the oven first thing in the morning. After I finished that I shut down the kitchen and locked the pantry. Like I told Scott before I did it, I hate having to lock up the food. It makes things seem worse somehow. It may be worry or my imagination, but I swear it looks like someone has been doing some midnight snacking. The last two bananas have disappeared and no one is admitting to doing the eating. I can't even find the peals. This kind of action definitely has to be nipped in the bud.

The one humorous thing that did happen was when Rose asked me why I was calling my journal something as over the top as "Mom's Journal of the Zombie Years." I explained that it was a play on the text written by Daniel Defoe in 1665 called "Journal of the Plague Years" that dealt with events surrounding an outbreak of plague in London, England. Afterwards, she just rolled her eyes as only a 17 year old can and all I could do was remember myself at her age. I must have driven my parents nuts. She's a good kid and is even quite mature compared to a lot of kids her age, but this situation would make anyone cop an attitude. She is being forced to give up quite a lot right when her world should be expanding. All of the kids are giving up their freedom. Scott and I hope we can make it up to them some day but right now we are more concerned for their safety than their freedom. They'll have to learn to be content with whatever good times we can find each day. We all will.

Speaking of my parents, I finally reached them. My brother and his family have decided to move onto their acreage with them a month earlier than planned. They live in the sticks on five acres of woods, and are at least 45 miles from the next city of any size with a hospital. Their health has been declining and I have to say it was a relief to know that my brother was going to be moving closer to them even if it was because my brother has lost his third job in two years. They'll be together and dad will have some help with the heavy labor of keeping up with their big garden and keep the road back to their acreage clear. My nephews are apparently loving it up there, but my sister in law who has never lived in the country is having a hard time adjusting. She is already talking about taking a vacation to see her parents "to get away from all the quiet."

I wish we had some land. We don't live in a subdivision so our neighbors don't live right next to us, but we only have a half-acre lot – and most of that taken up by the house, pool, and shed. That doesn't leave me a lot of options for growing food. And the stupid Code Enforcement Nazis make sure that we don't have any kind of livestock, including chickens. Basically if the economy keeps deteriorating and/or the NRS situation gets worse we are going to be stuck with whatever I can make of what we already have. Lucky for us I've been going that direction for a few years now and I have very few strictly ornamental items in the yard any more. Now if we can just have the weather we need to keep everything growing. We need some rain.


	6. Day Five

**Day Five**

After reading last night's entry I could just kick myself for saying we needed rain. Its done nothing but rain all flaming day today. The kids have all been cooped up inside which was not fun. I've been cooped up inside which was even less fun. And Scott came home from work soaking wet and now has the chills which was the least fun of all.

He barely picked at his dinner and went straight to bed right afterwards. If he gets really sick I don't know what we'll do. I've got ye ol' standard OTC meds here at the house. I even have a few fish antibiotics hidden in my medical supply tub way back in my closet, but I sure don't want for him to get that sick. I was just barely comfortable with the whole fish antibiotic thing to begin with. Bought a Physician's Desk Reference and printed off all the information and dosing charts I could for the different meds I bought, but still, I'm not a doctor and hadn't ever really planned on having to use them except in the most extreme cases. We DO NOT need an "extreme case." Hopefully he'll just cough and hack a couple of days and then be back to normal. Nothing worse, please God, things are funky enough as they are.

They closed the bridges and tunnels in and out of NYC. I mean, you can line up and get screened before leaving the city but its taking a really long time. Even with sporatic rioting, lines literally snake for miles from the heavily guarded exit points. You have to prove you don't have any open or recent flesh wounds before you are allowed out of the quarantine zone. People are crossing the river to get out illegally but you have to be careful. They are patrolling with armed Coast Guard boats now and they ain't messing around. During one of the news segments, the interviewed a guy who was having a screaming hissy fit because they wouldn't let him through even though he just had a cut on his chin from where he had shaved that morning. Another women, the mother of a couple of toddlers who were crying in the background, her whole family is is stuck because one of her kids had a scraped knee. More than a time or two I've heard NYC described as the "City of the Doomed" on various survival sites but it was more of a joke than anything else. The jokes not so funny these days.

The story goes that Instead of properly disposing of the NRS victims were they were found, NYPD had been ordered by city officials to remove them to the local morgue for disposal so as to avoid any kind of public incidences. Yeah, that worked. Not. According to reports coming over CNN two morgue locations and their staffs have been "sanitized." Yeah, they actually used the word sanitized. I wonder if that is anything like culling livestock within a certain proximity of an outbreak whether they register infected or not. A small apartment complex was also declared contaminated with 28 NRS-positives and they've quarantined several blocks in all directions and are making a building-by-building inspection.

I'm spending yet another sleepless night trying to figure out what to do next. I'm doing OK though because I'm flying on caffeine that Scott brought home in the form of a couple of cases of cola that had been left behind by a tenant who skipped on us. Yeah, more good news like that I can do without. The tenant skipping, I mean. The finding of desparately needed caffeine was bodaciously good.

I think I was able to convince Scott to stay home from work tomorrow and I also confiscated his cell phone. He needs uninterrupted sleep and I have a feeling that the news out of NYC is going to make some of our tenants a little crazy (or crazier I should say) for a while. Scott and Carlo cleaned all of the junk out of the apartment already. Most of the stuff they put down at the road but he brought some home in the van. I hate when he does that, it always causes us grief. Technically if we don't put it down at the road we are supposed to put it in storage until they show up to claim it, but in this case I think we can claim it as abandoned property because we asked the tenant's family to come claim it for over a week and they never did. From the look of things, it appears the chick's live-in sugar daddy was a dealer or a wannabe. And since the craphead is now in jail – and the chick has moved on to the next gent who was willing to pay to keep her – if he finds out that his stuff went missing hopefully he'll connect it to her and not to us.

The drugs Scott tossed. He would have turned them over to the cops like he normally does but he didn't want them to confiscate some of the other items left in the unit. I'm no expert and neither is Scott but we aren't complete idiots either. The short, small ones are handguns and the ones with the long barrels are rifles. The bores on the rifles are smallish so I feel pretty safe saying they aren't shotguns. There was what looked like plenty of bullets for them as well. The question is what ammo goes with which gun? OK, so maybe I'm dumber about guns that I'd like to admit, but Carlo – who has done a little time for things best left unmentioned – helped Scott label the ammo containers for which went with which.

Scott has a license to carry a concealed weapon here in FL. It was a relatively blow off easy thing to get out at the Fairgrounds last year. I was gonna go to the next gun show and get one for myself, but we never actually got around to getting a gun. We aren't scared of guns or anything but the expense and lack of experience didn't do much for our confidence in actually picking the right gun to own. Scott's parents were barely literate and the children of Depression era immigrants. They've been gone 15 years now and as much as I loved them I'm not sure that they could have handled what is going on these days. I grew up around guns, just never really absorbed the culture although I can shoot a rifle without being knocked on my fanny. Daddy is retired USAF and my grandfather and uncles won all sorts of hunting trophies. That was a million years ago though and none of them are around to help us with this now. So we've locked the guns and ammo in a footlocker in Scott's closet. I know they aren't doing much good sitting there but at least I don't have to worry about Johnnie getting into them. We haven't told the kids about them yet. I guess we'll talk about that tomorrow at some point.

In addition to the guns there was a vest that Scott said was bullet proof. Humph! The thing looks like it would fit Santa Claus and his brother at the same time so I'm not sure how much good its going to do us. I'm not real fond of the idea of ever being in a situation where we're being shot at anyway. That's not the kind of fashion statement I want to make. Then there were two billy-club looking sticks – the ones like the old Keystone Cops used to carry around on their belts – and what Carlo told Scott were basic home invasion and car theft tools. OK, after nearly 13 years of being a landlord we've seen some wild stuff left behind and this really isn't too bad compared to some stuff we've run across. I think the real human skull and femur bone in the cauldron still outranks Sugar Daddy's stash, but Geez, you know? It would be nice to run across normal stuff every once in a while.

The rest of what Scott brought home was really tame in comparison to the armament. Looks like the sugar daddy may have also been dealing in stolen goods. There was a crap load of jewelry, most of it pretty cheap but some of it definitely not. There was enough electronic equipment to choke a horse. James will probably get most of that. He's not a geek, but he has developed a talent for building new electronic pieces from old. He's already built three computers and repaired a couple of Xbox 360s from scrap pieces Scott has brought home. There was a lot of DVDs and CDs too … Carlo requested and got all the smutty ones. He's between girlfriends again. He's always between girlfriends.

There was a nice selection of silver serving pieces and some pretty bodacious hunting knives, but I'll guarantee those are going to be cleaned with bleach, a toothbrush, and elbow grease first thing in the morning. A couple of those knives looked like they had been used for something other than kitchen duty. When Scott went to change the air condition filter he also found a big bag of old coins and a wad of cash that he still hasn't taken the time to count. The money looks skuzzy to me so I'll be laundering it – literally – and after it dries I'll run the counterfeit felt marker over the bills just to make sure its not funny money. The only other thing he brought home was a lot of copper tubing and wiring. Looks like we can add metal thief to the sugar daddy's resume as well. Enterprising dude. Not.

We'll deal with all of that stuff tomorrow, I need to finish recording what I did today and toddle off to the sofa to try and grab a couple hours of sleep. I'll leave the bed to Scott and his germs, although with the kids in there I'll probably be looking at taking care of at least three more sickies before a week is gone by.

This morning I took the bread dough from the refrigerator to use to make Cinnamon Buns. While that was baking I put the brisket and other ingredients into the crockpot. I then took the boneless beef chuck roast out of the freezer and put it into the refrigerator to thaw. This left enough space in the freezer to put another 2 liter of water in there. The freezer is starting to look very bare of food.

Today was day three of the Amish Friendship Bread Starter which just meant another stir to the mixture by squishing it around in the ziploc bag.

Breakfast: The Cinnamon Buns recipe made quite a bit and totally filled my biggest bundt pan. I saved the leftovers – which I subsequently had to hide from James, he's turning into a bottomless pit – and used them for dessert after supper.

Lunch: I unintentionally thawed more shrimp than expected yesterday and since you can't re-freeze them, I used them to make Bloody Mary Shrimp and Pasta. There was enough that I didn't have to make any side dishes to go with the meal which I hope saves us food.

Dinner: For dinner we had BBQ Beef Brisket straight out of the crockpot (saved me from washing a serving dish) with egg noodles and corn on the cob. The cinnamon buns were just as good for dessert as they were for breakfast.

After dinner I took the ground pork sausage out of the freezer and put it into the refrigerator to thaw. I'll need it in the morning.

Oh glory, I can hear Scott snoring from here. I'm definitely sleeping on the sofa tonight. I hope he is feeling better tomorrow. We've got a lot to discuss. Being stuck here at home for nearly a week is driving me nuts. It should be safe for me to try and hit the grocery store tomorrow. I may not be able to pick up any extra food, but I'd like to try and get some laundry detergent and see if there is anything else worth grabbing. Surely I can get out for just a little while and honestly I can't see it hurting anything.


	7. Day Six

**Day Six**

I wasn't up as early as I had hoped to be this morning. Blasted snooze button, I guess I need to move the alarm further away from the bed. Having the shutters up keeps the light and noise out that would normally wake me but after the last couple of nights I was probably needing the rest anyway.

I got up, washed up, got the kids up and while they were taking care of their morning routine I took the last of the ground beef out of the freezer and stuck it in the frig to thaw from tomorrow. I've got plenty of home canned ground beef, but it is really scary to be using the last of so many fresh and frozen foods. I had planned on trying to get away to the stores today but that sure didn't happen.

I also squished up the Amish Friendship bread starter. That's all I needed to do since this was only day four of the directions. It takes ten days to make the starter and I hope its worth it. I've done it off and on for years, but never because I really needed to. Everything seems to take on new meanings and urgencies lately.

Breakfast: For breakfast I made a Southern Grits Casserole, which used up quite a bit of the grated cheddar cheese and the package of ground pork sausage that I had thawed. It was a very hearty dish so I didn't fix lunch and just fixed dinner an hour earlier than normal. I'm going to start gradually seeing if I can take out a meal (or two or three) each week to save on our food stores. Of course the kids got hungry anyway so I wound up giving them a cup of broth that I made from bouillon cubes. I'll admit that I'm also getting a little sick of cooking without a break. All of the convenience foods are disappearing fast so I'm left having to cook everything from scratch which is more time consuming.

Scott has been fairly rancid company all day today; at least when he isn't sleeping off the medication I keep giving him for his congestion. He woke up about 10:00 AM and starting acting like a bear with a sore head because I hadn't woken him up sooner. "I've got a ton of work to do." Or at least that's what he tried to say between snotty sneezes and wet coughs. Yeah right. As soon as he ran out of steam and stopped storming about I dosed him with the OTC meds. He was out like a light in pretty short order.

The Cinnamon Buns from yesterday were such a morale booster that I decided to finish off the last few pieces of frozen bread dough by making Elephant Ears for dessert tonight. Even Scott stopped grumping long enough to eat a few pieces so I take that as a good sign.

Dinner: I made Coca-cola BBQ Beef Roast cooked in the crockpot. I love my crockpot. It doesn't use as much electric as the oven and stove, it doesn't heat the house up near as bad, and most of all it leaves me more time to do other stuff. To go with the roast I made rice pilaf from a box of Rice-a-Roni mix, English peas made from canned peas, and of course, the Elephant Ears made with the last of the frozen bread dough

I really wanted to get out today but between one thing and another it's a good thing I didn't. A real good thing. Scott was sick and irritable for one thing. But for another, about an hour before I had planned to slip out of the house they closed US41. The NRS Response Committee had sent teams in to investigate a report of at least one infected in a field behind the Sunset Plaza which is where I would have been shopping.

It was a false alarm; just a local drunk who had gotten ahold of some bad homemade hooch. But the consequences if it had been true …. Scott would have been sick with no adult to care for him and worrying about where I was. The kids would have been alone and who knows if I would have been quarantined. Or maybe I would have been "sanitized" like those people in NYC. They might never have even known what had happened to me. They might have thought I just ran off and left them. I worried about something like this happening to Scott but I never saw myself walking in those shoes. This has brought it all home to me. This is for real. This isn't a movie or a practice drill. Make the wrong choice and you die. You die because you made the wrong choice and you could take your family with you.

Of course that put me in a blue funk for the rest of the day; a cross between feeling sorry for myself and being angry at myself. The situation didn't do much for anyone else either. Rose retreated to her room and her books. James started obsessing about whether or not there were any other security measure he could take care of and refused to let the younger three out of his sight. The younger three of course refused to let me out of their sight so it was like being trailed by ducklings all afternoon.

Scott started feeling moderately better late in the day, just in time to eat some dinner, but that didn't mean he wasn't grumpy. We tried to talk about the guns and other stuff but stopped when Scott admitted that he just wasn't up to it. He was also upset with me about the grocery store thing. I hope he gets over it. At the same time though a part of me is glad he got a taste of what I felt watching him go off to work. I know its kinda petty, maybe I shouldn't feel that way but I do.

After our early dinner I pulled Rose and James aside. I had Rose mind the younger three while they watched a movie and has some microwave popcorn to keep them occupied. I took James with me and went to the canal edge just on the other side of the empty lot behind us. Scott wasn't happy when I told him after we got back and he woke up again but he said he understood me wanting to take advantage of any resources close to home. What we did was harvest the elderberries that had finally ripened. No one else in the neighborhood has paid the least attention to these bushes in all the years we've lived here except to say, "look at the pretty flowers." I've considered them part of "my" resources for several years now. No one has said anything and I refuse to feel guilty about it.

I got a whole bushel of berries before I called it quits for the evening. The gnats and mosquitoes were just about as bad as I had ever seen them this time of year. There looks to be enough yet ripening so that I can get another two or three bushels before we're through … assuming no one else picks up on what I'm doing. I'll turn most of whatever I can get into elderberry extract and the rest into syrup since I still have elderberry jelly and cordial leftover from last season.

I wonder how much longer it will be before people get obviously hungry. We keep pretty much to ourselves so I'm not likely to know for sure until I see people doing something overt like coming by to ask if they can "borrow" something. I'm hoping having the house all closed down will discourage that as much as possible.

Well, I've had enough for today and tomorrow I'll use the last of about 90% of what I had in the frig and freezer. It'll mean more work to cook, but at least I don't have to worry about just eating MREs and other freeze dried food by the #10 can. I stocked what I knew my family would eat. Here's hoping the power stays on long enough to let me get the rest of my preps situated.


	8. Day Seven

Day Seven

Gack, what a day. I'm exhausted. Scott insisted on going into work this morning and of course he is sick again tonight. Not as sick as he was yesterday, but sick enough. And foul, definitely foul. Seems people all over are going a little nuts. In particular, several of our tenants are going a little nuts. They were already edgy because of the economic tensions as so many have already had their hours cut at work and no longer have the discretionary funds to spend like they used to – no more parties to blow off steam. They are angry that the city is under lock down – in particular the curfew seems to be crimping their style. Too many new rules imposed on people who preferred to live a rule-less lifestyle. Scott says even Carlo was not acting like himself. I think maybe Carlo is acting like himself; the self that he doesn't normally show around Scott. I think it might be time for Scott to get more back up, someone we can trust; who that would be I don't know though. That's a nice sunny thought. Not.

I did have something good happen today. My brother drove by with his last trucking load before he permanently moves up to Mom and Dad's place. While he was here he dropped off a bunch of canned goods from a run he made south of here. He also brought some stuff from Mom and Dad, like those home canned pears mom had made a couple of cases of for my birthday and some material and patterns from where she had been cleaning out her sewing room. She also sent me an old ceramic crock and some gallon-sized Ball jars. She also sent me some other stuff but I'm not going to list it out here. Too many odds and ends. Her letter said that she was "down sizing" since my brother and his family were moving up there. I think she was just doing some Autumn cleaning sending her stuff down to me. Not that I'm not grateful and all, but now I have a ton of Autumn cleaning and reorganizing to do. There is stuff spread everywhere in the house.

I will mention some of the stuff my brother dropped off. He told me not to ask where it came from so I'm not. But I can wonder and I figure he gave a haircut to the company that broke his trucking contract. Less said about that the better I suppose. It may come back to haunt him later but I guess he'll have to deal with that down the road. He's gonna be working at the local feed store for the time being. Speaking of which one of the things Daddy sent was a barrel of dried corn, a barrel of wheat, and a barrel of soy beans. When I asked where on Earth they got the money to do this I found out that a lot of the farmers up that way can't get their crops to market and are letting it go for a song. They just don't have any place to store it and they worry about rodent infestation if they just leave it sit in the dump silos or in the fields. I'm not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth, but that tells me that things are a lot worse off than what we see on television. Anyway, the stuff brother brought was apparently meant for one of those "fresh market" type places that cater to the pseudo-healthy and gourmet-wannabes and included canned conch (I'll use that at some point to make some seafood sausage), canned lychees, a boat load of different flavored Clif bars (Scott's favorite breakfast food - yuck), dried fruit and fruit leathers, canned gooseberries, some crazy bottled fruit juices like dragonfruit and acai, and a few other things like organic this and that and funky flavored waters. I haven't even opened all of the boxes. I am grateful but where on earth am I going to put everything?

Speaking of food I better just go ahead and put in today's menu before I forget. Today was day five of the Amish Friendship Bread Starter. Today I added 1 cup sugar, 1 cup flour and 1 cup milk made from powdered milk and squished it up really well. That stuff doesn't smell any better, but that is a good thing. If making this starter works out I'll likely start using one of those gallon jars that Mom sent. No sense in wasting ziploc bags after all.

Breakfast: I only had a little bit of this and that left of the fresh and frozen foods so for breakfast I made a Breakfast Lasagna. Scott and James enjoyed it and I was able to get people to lunch time without hearing the moaning refrain of "I'm hungry" about eleventy dozen times.

Lunch: For lunch I made Chicken Nugget Casserole. Chicken nuggets aren't my favorite but the kids love them and they are about the only thing besides ice left in the freezer. They have to be used up sooner or later and anyway, it made the younger kids happy.

Dinner: I made Bloody Mary Meatloaf which finished off the Bloody Mary mix from the frig; mashed potatoes made from some of the potatoes in the bags and with evaporated milk instead of fresh milk; peas and carrots which takes two cans. I splurged and opened a jar of gravy for the mashed potatoes. I guess I could have made homemade but I'm beat.

I spent quite a bit of the day processing the elderberries and going through my gardening journals to remind myself when I should expect to harvest stuff out of my edible landscaping. When I wasn't doing that or trying to deal with the stuff my brother had dropped off, I was harassing the kids to keep up with the school work and their chores. I have good kids … but kids is the operative description. And they are pretty strung out by everything that is going on too.

After dinner I double checked everything to make sure that all the fresh and frozen stuff was used up. At this point the utilities are still on but we did have a brown out earlier in the day when an ambulance took out a power pole near here. Apparently, or at least according to the news, a supposed suicide turned out to be an NRS victim. The driver managed to jump out and locked down the vehicle by sliding a piece of street sign post through the rear door handles. His partner wasn't as lucky and the film of the accident scene showed where an awful lot of blood had run out of the back and under the doors. I don't think the younger kids caught what this was. I'm not even sure it dawned on Rose, but James was as white as a sheet and I'm really worried about him. He's someone that as long as he is taking action he is OK, but don't ask him to sit around and do nothing. He's like Scott in that respect. Sometimes the male species is just totally beyond my understanding but right now I can understand how James must be feeling. I hate feeling like I've lost control of a situation myself.

At the time of the accident, local circuits automatically rolled to new ones but I hear that it will take a while to complete repairs and if the partial repairs don't hold and the pole pulls falls down all the way, our street could lose power for who knows how long. Now I don't know whether to wish I had risked the extra run to the grocery store or not. But hindsight is 20/20 and I can't change the past so its better to count a bird in the hand than two that might be in the bush. Either way, starting tomorrow everything we eat around here is going to be made from canned and dried ingredients until my gardening starts coming in. Oh boy, time to get creative.

Its weird how your mind works when stressed out. I was considering unplugging the refrigerator since we didn't have anything to put in it just to save on the electric bill. Then I realized I can at least still make ice and keep water cold for beverages. I don't know where my head was. Just to make some room in my pantry I did move some of the packages of flour and cornmeal into the refrigerator for storing and fill up the remaining space in the freezer with more bottles of water.

Now on to more bad news, someone must have been watching James and I pick the elderberries last night. I went to sneak out and get the rest of them last this afternoon and they were all gone. I don't like the idea that we were being spied on. What really upset me though was that someone had strung barbed wire off of the canal edge I've been using freely for over twelve years and put up several "No Trespassing" signs. I hope I don't have to fight with the neighbors, but if I need water out of the canal no measly string of barbed wire is going to stop me. I'll let it go for now, but whoever took the berries better know not to try and eat them raw or unripe or they are going to find themselves incredibly ill in short order.

Speaking of water, I decided to play it safe rather than sorry and have filled up all of my water storage containers. The two fifty-gallon water barrels took a while to fill and so did the three Water Bobs that I set up in my big storage tubs. That's 400 gallons right there. But I've got another 200 gallons in collapsible containers, canteens, empty soda pop bottles, pitchers and every other container I could come up with. That's 600+ gallons of potable water and about 20,000 gallons of non-potable water in our swimming pool. I may be over reacting but I don't think so. No power = no water in our home.

I thought about hooking up our water catchment system but that is too much for me to handle right now. The other outdoor work was enough on top of everything else. I'm getting my garden beds all prepped for planting and I've been looking over everything that I have already planted that is coming in. I should have a couple of avocados to pull in the next week or so. Three of my papayas are also just about ripe. My little dwarf passion fruit bush has nearly a dozen little fruit on it but it will be a while before they are ripe and I'm sure at least a couple of those will fall off. I've got seedlings to get into the ground but it is still a little warm. I hate to do it, but I think I'm going to make a final list and have Scott stop at Home Depot or Lowe's and get the rest of the mulch, fertilizer, bug spray, and dirt that I wanted to get. He's not going to be happy about it, but if the grocery store is out then our preps and whatever I can grow are the only two things that we are going to be able to count on.

Scott and I finally talked it over and pulled James and Rose aside to show them the guns. Rose was very tentative about handling them but James took to them readily. I think it even comforted him to know they were there. He has taken some training classes, mostly to earn his Boy Scout Rifle merit badge. He also practiced some with my dad, and of course he has his BB and pellet gun that he is a really good shot with, though what good they'll do in the even of civil unrest is debatable. The one that that James mentioned how dirty the guns were; I hadn't really taken the time to notice. Scott called Dad and we have an appointment to get together tomorrow on our teleconference system. We gave it to them as a present this last Christmas 'cause the internet is cheaper than long distance phone bills. Who knew we would be using it like this? Dad's going to walk us through cleaning the guns and making sure they are in good working order. Like I've mentioned before, I don't know much about guns but even I know that a dirty gun can be bad for your own healht. Hopefully we'll be able to cobble together everything that dad said we would need to do the cleaning.

I better head off to bed. I'm so physically and mentally drained I might actually be able to fall right to sleep tonight. But, after the ambulance crash we have two more occupants added to our bedroom. Yep, James and Rose decided to camp out as well. I finally just had the kids pull all of their twin mattresses into the room. If they are going to sleep in there, and I'm not complaining about that, at least they should be comfortable so I don't have to listen to them moaning and groaning in the mornings. But I guess it would be asking too much for Scott and Sarah not to snore.


	9. Day Eight

Day Eight

A solid week of this self-imposed quarantine has passed and I'm going slightly bonkers. It seemed so easy to say that sequestering our family was the right thing to do and frankly I still believe it is the right thing to do for the kids. But right now I'm wondering if it is the right thing to do for me. Who knew it would be this hard for me to be compliant in this way? I'm so used to going my own way – well, within reason of course – and doing things my way as I take the kids here and there and do my chores, yada, yada, yada. I even miss helping Scott clean the apartments for pity sake.

Its not like I don't have enough to do around the house. Seven people in a house, even one that is the size of ours, twenty-four hours a day seven days a week makes for a lot of cleaning. A chore chart is becoming really necessary. I just can't do everything myself. After discussing several options with Scott, we had a family conference and outlined everyone's new responsibilities. We also had a serious discussion about why it is necessary that everyone share the labor. Some of these chores include: filling water containers, doing the dishes, helping cook the meals, making the solar tea, making the pitcher of powdered milk up every morning, and several other cleaning tasks. Laundry is also a big problem in this house. Laundry is always a problem and since I didn't get a chance to stock up on as much laundry detergent as I wanted we need to do the best we can to make it go further.

The kids were pretty good about the whole thing, they've been doing chores for years anyway. But all of these new daily tasks had to be spread out and around as well. James, bless him, wanted to know if there was anything and I quote, "in the area of home security" that he could help with. Scott has given him the chore of checking all of the window and shutter locks as well as check the fence and gates a couple of times per day. He spent a couple of hours going over all of the privacy fencing and adding nails here and there. I'm not sure how much good it does, but it makes James feel better.

James also helped Scott to clean the guns with my Dad's online instruction. The paper towels and the old table they were doing this on beside the computer was filthy by the time they were through. Ewwww. I have no idea what they did, but I wish they could have done it with a little less mess. Dad said the guns are now OK. They'll never be show room pieces but they are serviceable. Dad was pretty emphatic that from here on out that we wipe the guns down and run one of those cleaning rods down them frequently because of Florida's high humidity. OK, whatever you say Dad. The actual full, take it down to the basic parts types of gun cleaning depends on how often it gets used. I'll leave that stuff up to Scott and James. When I have more time I'll stop being so "girly-girly" and learn how to do it. I probably need to make Rose and at least Sarah learn to shoot as well. Just not right now. I've got enough on my plate. I'll get to that in a bit, right now I want to do something normal like log in our daily menu.

Today was day six of the Amish Friendship Bread Starter and all I had to do was squish it around.

My family really is used to having bread around. I mean we don't go crazy but you know, we never exactly denied ourselves either with a no-carb diet. With the store-bought light bread gone and the starter for making Amish Bread still days away, I needed to come up with some other options. Biscuits are always good and while the big oven is still working, large enough batches can be made so that there are some left over for other meals. But I've been thinking that traditional bread ingredients like flour are going to get hard to come by at some point. We don't exactly grow a lot of wheat here in Florida. Cornmeal is more common in the south, but even that may be hard to come by after a while. And if they aren't scarce, they might become expensive. I figure its better to use recipes that I can extend the flour or cornmeal out by using other items.

Breakfast: Tex-Mex Biscuits. These are traditional style biscuits that extend the flour used by adding a half cup of grits. Grits I have in plenty. Try sack upon sack of grits. I don't know why I bought that many grits, it just sort of snuck up on me. The recipe also calls for a small amount of shredded cheese, sour cream, and milk. There is still a little shredded cheese in the frig but it won't last forever. In fact I found a small spot of mold in the bag already. The rest of the family doesn't know, I just kind of picked it out and they never knew the difference. "Waste not want not" as the old saying goes. The sour milk was an easy fix since it can be made from evaporated milk and a little vinegar or lemon juice which is what I did. The straight milk I made by diluting the remaining evaporated milk from the can that I opened to make the sour milk. I dumped what little bit was still in the can into the pitcher of powdered milk that I made this morning for drinking or cooking. The recipe makes 12 good-sized biscuits but that wouldn't take everyone very far so I also opened and fried up a canned ham. As a treat I scrambled up five of the remaining fresh eggs. That wasn't a lot of eggs to split between the all the people sitting down to breakfast, but combined with the fried ham and biscuits it was a good start to the day. I gave my share to Scott and Bekah, who looks like she has caught Scott's cold, gave her share to James. Its amazing how things just sort of work out like that.

Lunch: After all the work at breakfast, I decided lunch was going to be lighter in the labor department. Scout Tetrazzini is an easy recipe that uses simple ingredients and ramen noodles. I've been making this stuff since I was a girl scout a million years ago. The recipe is easy to double in case of bigger appetites, but given everything that was on the breakfast table, and the fact that Scott was off working during lunch time, a single recipe was all I needed.

Scott came home early so he could work on the guns. It was nice to have him home well before dark. I cannot repeat often enough how unsettling it is to have him barely making it home before curfew. The closer it gets to curfew, the more I wonder if he is going to be stuck away from home.

Dinner: For dinner I made Salmon Burgers from canned salmon, Rice with garbanzo Beans, and canned green beans that I cooked 'til they didn't squeak any more. I hate squeaky beans, they just freeze my insides when I try to eat them. Since I've been trying to keep the sugary and artificially colored drinks at a minimum close to bedtime to keep from having to peel Johnnie off the ceiling, we stuck with drinking solar tea or plain water for our beverage. I thought about pulling out one of those weird bottles of juice that Brother brought by but decided to leave it for another time. No sense in having to crack any of those until we have to.

So far no one has said anything about missing fast food or soda though I know James must have been dreaming about pizza. He was talking in his sleep like he was calling Pizza Hut and asking if there were any specials for home delivery. Having the kids sleeping in our room certainly is proving interesting.

It might be that the seriousness of everything is really starting to sink in for all of us. I'm not sure. There has been plenty on the television and radio to reinforce how bad things are getting in some places. But its nice that no one is out and out complaining. We've all had a few caffeine headaches now and again, especially Scott who misses his high-octane energy drinks. I actually have several cases of those drinks hidden away, but its better to get weaned off of them now when there is something like sweet tea to take its place than trying to do it later when there might be a lot of things missing from the diet. The high-octane drinks might be needed later if a lot of physical labor has to start being done. Either way, they aren't needed now so they stay out of sight and out of mind.

Tonight's treat was a couple of bags of microwave popcorn to split between everyone. It didn't go far, but it went far enough. We all kinda lost our appetite after watching the news.

NYC has basically exploded. There is rioting everywhere. I suppose it wasn't unexpected but it sure did happen faster than I thought it would. At any given time there is only about three days worth of food in the city and under the circumstances they couldn't restock fast enough. The scariest part was the government's reaction. They blew up all of the bridges and tunnels. That, more than anything, tells us just how serious this contagion is. That's billions of dollars in repairs … or maybe they aren't looking at repairs. Maybe they don't think NYC is worth salvaging. I don't know, but it was heartbreaking. I had some internet buddies in NYC that got caught flat-footed by the closing of all of their planned exits. The government has also threatened to turn off all power to the city if the remaining residents don't stop rioting. Yeah, like people are going to hear that kind of threat and think good thoughts.

There were some people that managed to escape before they brought down the bridges and tunnels. The outbound NYC refugees poured into places like Ft. Lee, Jersey City, Trenton, Stamford, Bridgeport, Weehawken, Teaneck, Hackensack, Maywood, and Paramus. Many, who had expected to be taken in by family and friends, found themselves forcibly turned away – sometimes at gunpoint. Finding no refuge there, they continued north, south, and west like locusts, staying only long enough to run through an area's resources or to succumb to NRS infection or violence.

It seems a few of the refugees were infected, or at least reports are suggesting as much. Or maybe that's just propaganda to justify the actions that were taken. I don't know. But there is a whole mess of trouble up that way, that's for sure. The chatter on the survival forums is pretty wild. Some of the more radical forums have fallen silence and are offline. I don't know if this is because the forum owners have closed up shop and bugged out or if they have been taken offline by "someone else," or if violence of some kind has silenced the participants. Either way Scott wants us to be very careful about any posting online from here on out. I thought that might be a bit paranoid at first but better safe than sorry. Besides, Scott isn't asking much. He's only asking me to use some commonsense and be circumspect. That's no different than survival forum moderators have been asking of participants for as long as I've been online. Letting people know all of your business or too much of your personal information can prove dangerous in several different ways. Yeah, maybe Scott doesn't have it so wrong after all.

All I do know is that its getting harder and harder to watch Scott drive off in the mornings. We are trying to keep up the appearance of normalcy for the kids, but even they know that every time Scott leaves the house he might not be coming home.


	10. Day Nine

Day Nine

I almost didn't journal tonight. Everything has been a struggle and no one has had much fun except for maybe Johnnie who seems to thrive on chaos. Somewhere around mid-afternoon I heard Scott mumble, "PMS or Zombies; not a hell of a lot of difference if you ask me." I almost laughed. Almost. Poor guy.

I was seriously dragging when I got up this morning but I still remembered to give the bread starter a good squish. Not too many more days and I'll be able to bake us a nice, sweet loaf of bread.

Breakfast: These high labor breakfasts are really time-consuming. I voted that on some days mom just needs a break. I figure that high labor meals can be alternated with easier meals even if I'm cooking from scratch. This is one of those mornings that it was just too hard for me to face a skillet or baking dish. Instead I broke out the instant oatmeal. I was able to have just about every flavor known to man fully-stocked because Winn Dixie used to have these really great BOGO sales and I would load up every chance I got. I also have several tubs of plain oatmeal as well as dried fruit and the direction to make my own "instant" oatmeal when the store bought stuff runs low. Let's hear it for ingenuity. The problem with letting everyone pick their favorite flavor though was that I had several different boxes open at once. I emptied those packages into a storage box with see-through sides.

I wound up breaking down the packaging and sticking it in the garbage can of things that will burn. Last week the municipal garbage was still running and the first pick up for this week has already run, but it ran a lot later than it normally does and there has been some noise on the radio about how some pick up routes were missed. By separating the garbage into burnable, compostable, and non-compostable but potentially useful, and non-compostable and non-reusable its made for less to be picked up and better organization in case garbage collection becomes haphazard or non-existent. With the way things are going, I wouldn't be surprised to see municipal services begin to break down within the next couple of weeks.

Lunch: After the oatmeal for breakfast everyone was ready for a "real" lunch. I wasn't ready for any real cooking though. I made Caesar Chicken Tetrazzini. This used up the last little bit of Caesar salad dressing from the frig. I tossed that together with a can of chicken, a small can of mushrooms, and a couple other odds and ends and then mixed it with cooked spaghetti noodles. The only critique was that there wasn't any garlic breadsticks to go with the meal. With a little more forethought I could have pulled that off, but the forethought was still in bed where the cook wished to be.

Bread, bread, bread. Man oh man, getting all the bread that my family is used to having is getting pretty labor – not to mention ingredient – intensive. Good thing I took the time to gather recipes for bread items that aren't completely dependent on straight flour before the situation got critical. A recipe for this stuff called Silly Dilly Bread that is made from cake mix but that is still savory, rather than sweet was just the ticket to go with tonight's dinner. It called for Swiss cheese, but the closest thing I had was a bunch of those little, shelf-stable Swiss cheese-like triangles left over from a holiday gift package. All of the triangles together only made about a cup of shredded cheese, but that was all I needed.

The bread batter didn't take long to make and then I put it into the pans and left it to rise. Since the recipe made enough for two pans of bread, there was bread with dinner and another loaf for tomorrow.

Dinner: I made an old family favorite called Five Can Tuna Casserole to go with the Silly Dilly Bread. Not very exciting, but another pan of popcorn sprinkled with some Parmesan served while we family played a round of board games made everyone feel more satisfied.

As for how other things are going, I suppose it goes without saying that all of New England is now in an uproar. Its not so much NRS from what we can tell from all the news reports, although there is some of that too, its generalized civil unrest. A lot of people are in a panic. Food is running low and its taking military personnel and national guard troops to safeguard deliveries of groceries and other essential goods. There's only so many delivery caravans that can be guarded at any given time. And since it is August a lot of gardens up north are starting to wind down and people are going to have to make do with whatever they already have put away. There are still some apple and pear harvests to come but nothing in the urban centers. The cost of winter heating had already taken a lot of people's savings so there's not much left to pay the inflated prices of items that do make it into the stores. People are already complaining of price gouging.

Here in Tampa I'm just now starting to get my main garden planted. I mostly plant things in containers but I do have a few beds that I need to finish prepping.

There weren't any new cases of NRS reported in Tampa today. That is a relief as a lot of people had expected the numbers to increase exponentially. They did mention that they had to commit the wife of the dead EMT. Apparently they didn't have a chance to notify her before she saw it all on television in bright freaking Technicolor. She is supposedly six months into a high-risk pregnancy on top of everything else. I just can't imagine. Don't want to imagine.

Which brings me to the only real bright spot of the day. Scott didn't go into work today. It wasn't just the hormones that had me weeping when I heard his decision.

The reason why he chose to stay home was that he had found another stash of stuff at the old "sugar daddy" place. Scott tried to haul away an old, enclosed trailer that was behind the duplex. The code enforcement Nazis strike again. But he couldn't budge it even with his big V8. He busted the padlock the padlock on the trailer and found who knows how many thousands of dollars in hurricane panels. And not those flimsy aluminum ones either, these suckers are steel. Mercy me, I can just imagine that a couple of homeowners somewhere are regretting the lose of those right about now. Probably popped into a bunch of garages or storage rooms and found these. They must have been recent and hot for them not to have made it to the scrap yard yet.

For most of the day Scott and James have been digging post holes to sink some thick metal posts in the ground. Tomorrow they are going to attach cross beams to the posts and then attach the panels to the cross beams. The pre-drilled holes in the hurricane panels will make this fairly easy. Not all of the panels are the same length and width but Scott's going to try and keep it decent looking. They will also leave the wooden privacy fence around the perimeter to camouflage it somewhat.

It's going to be great to have Scott home for another day. I know I sound wimpy, always moaning about Scott leaving us. I do understand … really. We have bills to pay. I do have a backbone and saints preserve the fool that messes with my family. Its just when Scott is away I feel like a chunk of myself is missing. I'm concerned about the potential situations and dangers he could find himself in. And though he has never directly given me reason, I no longer trust Carlo. I just can't get beyond some of his past and I'm worried that if things become critical he'll turn on Scott.

I don't know if I'll ever be at peace with Scott leaving the house while this whole NRS situation is ongoing.


	11. Day Ten

**Day Ten**

I'm grateful beyond measure that Scott was not out working today. College Hill came unglued. Once that area began to riot, its like everyone else had permission to start to unravel. The gangs out in Town n' Country, the University Area, and Ybor City started several fires. Clairmel was pretty bad too. The area around the Port of Tampa was like a war zone. Ruskin, Riverview, and Plant City had some serious problems as well. I even heard gunfire from our own lanai.

Scott wore one of the guns in a makeshift holster the entire time he and James were working on the fence. The fence actually looks pretty good but its kinda bright, especially when the sun hits it. And they got hot in the middle of the day. I'm not sure what that means for the garden containers I normally line up agains the fence.

Because of the different sizes of the panels, they were able to leave key holes about every six or seven feet at different heights. Scott drilled matching holes in the wooden fence so that we could see out without having to look over the fence. I was worried about how obvious they would look to the neighbors but the confederate jasmine vines growing on the outside of the fence pretty well hide them unless you are intentionally looking for them. On the inside of the metal fence we covered the holes with a little flap of wood so that even if someone does find the holes in the exterior wooden fence they can't see through into our yard. And James came up with the idea of using Liquid Nails to glue old carpet strips that we were going to take to the scrap yard around the inside of the wooden fence. If someone tries to hold onto the top of the wooden fence to try and jump up and see into our yard they are going to get a nasty surprise.

Scott didn't allow the younger three outside at all today. This caused Rose and I quite a bit of work to keep them occupied. Sarah was also a help but she is used to going outside for her "nature projects" and also felt confined and cranky. Part of how we kept them occupied was to let them help with the day's food preparation.

I let each of them take a turn squishing the starter, reminding them it would only be a couple of more days before we could bake the bread. Everyone is looking forward to that.

Breakfast: We made Apricot Scones for breakfast. The original recipe called for heavy cream but since that was out the question we substituted with milk & butter mixed together (3/4 cup of milk – in this case made from powdered – and 1/3 cup of melted, cooled butter). The scones came out just as rich as if real heavy cream had been used.

Lunch: The last of the shredded cheese really went fast. There was a lot of mold in a corner of the bag so I had to finish it off. Bacon-Tomato Bake is another easy Bisquick recipe that the family enjoys. Its kind of like an open-faced sandwich. The original recipe called for sliced tomatoes and bacon to be cooked and crumbled up. Problem is there are no fresh tomatoes and the last of the fresh bacon was cooked several days ago. Substitutes were easy though. For the fresh sliced tomato we substituted a well-drained can of petite diced tomatoes. For the bacon, real bacon bits were substituted. Rehydrated diced dried onions substitute for the fresh sliced onion rings. The rest was easy and the result were good and filling and relatively easy to clean up since I used non-stick spray to coat the baking pan.

Dinner: After all the bread-like things that we baked today it seemed a shame to use up the second loaf of Silly Dilly Bread but I thought it better to just use it up rather than taking the chance that it will go to waste. To go with the Silly Dilly Bread we made Creamy Rice and Ham. A small can of English peas, instant rice, and a small canned ham that is diced plus a few other ingredients is all it took.

I guess by the end of the day a lot of the rioters had run out of steam. There were still spots of violence here and there but the worst of it seems to have died down. What was scary was how the areas of violence seemed to get cut off from the outside. Police and National Guard troops would just put up blockades and let them go at each other, kind of like cauterizing the rioters' ability to spread into any more areas. The military also got pulled into things when there was a situation over near MacDill USAF Base. The fires were allowed to burn, but they weren't allowed to spread out of the rioting areas. What people are going to make of this in the coming days is anyone's guess. It made a wasteland of the areas of violence but minimized it for everyone else.

Another odd thing that I've been hearing is that people that were shot and/or injured were tossed into trucks and hauled away but where they were taken is not being released. It certainly wasn't to local hospitals or trauma units. The local media are reporting that hospitals were preparing to be inundated but no wounded ever arrived except for a few first responders and National Guard troops.

There was some chatter on the forums and blogs that large quarantine areas have been created where anyone "behaving abnormally" can be held until they have been determined to be infection free. If true, that means the rule of habeas corpus has been suspended and that's more frightening than blowing the NYC exists was.

What on earth is going on?


	12. Day Eleven

**Day Eleven**

I've found one of the best ways to combat fear and depression is to count my blessings and what I have to be thankful for. I am thankful to have had Scott home for as long as we did. I'm thankful that he decided to take one of the guns with him when he left to check on the properties this morning. I'm thankful that he took the time to call this afternoon to check on us and let me know that he was OK up to that point.

I'm praying that he is OK. I'm sure he just wasn't able to make it home before curfew. I'm sure that has to be it. Please God let that be all it is.

The phones are out and the cable is out. I've go the rabbit ears and converter hooked up to the portable TV but the only thing I'm getting is the emergency broadcast transmission and if I hear "beep … beep … beep" one more time I'm going to scream!

I wish I had sent Scott off with a better breakfast. At least he has the Clif Bars and water I stashed in his van. The lunch I sent kinda sucked as well but he was supposed to be home early. I'll never make that mistake again. Never. The man will never leave this house without a fully packed bug out bag of food again. He better come home so that I can make sure he knows that.

Breakfast: I fixed Cherry Chocolate Chip Scones. Scones and biscuits are turning into the easiest breakfast meals. They go just far enough to get the day started and everyone is good and hungry by lunch so there are no picky eaters or leftovers to worry about. I just wish Scott had had more to eat. The fresh eggs will be all used up soon, but I stocked up on dried eggs, dried egg whites, and some other egg substitution ingredients to piece out the dried eggs. For instance, I learned you can grind flaxseed, or buy commercially ground flaxseed, and make an egg substitute for baking purposes.

Lunch: For lunch I fixed BBQ Pork Sandwiches. The original recipe called for a tub of commercially prepared BBQ pork, but I substituted a couple of cans of BBQ pork instead and it worked just fine. The other ingredients were pretty standard and I just made Bisquick biscuits to use for the bread portion. Giving everyone a serving of fruit cocktail and a pudding cup to eat rounded out the meal. This kept everyone filled until dinnertime arrived. There are stories on the television and radio that some communities are already suffering from utility shortages and that there are a lot of bare pantries. The emergency powers have already instituted rationing programs pretty much everywhere, including here in Tampa. That is what caused some of the rioting yesterday.

I made another cake mix bread recipe is Cake Mix Yeast Rolls. This made more than the Silly Dilly Bread recipe plus these are rolls rather than loaf bread. But the recipe used more flour in addition to a cake mix, but no specialty ingredients except yeast. The trade off was good and by saving the rolls after dinner there will be enough rolls for tomorrow. Plus, starting tomorrow, there will be the Amish Bread starter to use. I nearly forgot to squish it up because I was so out of sorts.

Dinner: I waited dinner as long as I could after it got dark but gave up and fed the kids who were starving. The main dish was Black Beans and Ham served over yellow rice. It goes just as well over white rice, but yellow rice has more seasoning and is what the family enjoys. The only other addition to the meal is the Cake Mix Yeast Rolls. For dessert I made a simple no-bake cheesecake mix topped with blueberry filling. We saved some of everything for Scott.

Tomorrow is the last day for the Amish Bread starter to make. There are going to be roughly four cups of the starter. They'll last a couple of days and I figure I'll give it a couple of days before I start another round of starter. Technically, I should be able to start a new batch from scratch each time but I hope to have a couple of tablespoons of starter left over from the first batch and I'll just add it to the first ingredients of the next batch. This way if the powdered milk isn't quite rich enough to get the starter going on its own, there will be some starter in there already to get the action going.

I sent the kids to bed early. Even Rose, as old as she is, went meekly with no questions. I think the kids are just too scared to ask where Scott is, but I can tell they were uneasy. I tried to act normally but I spied the kids whispering to one another. Rose and Sarah have baseball bats hidden beside by their mattresses. I didn't stop them, I just didn't have the heart. James was only faking going to bed. I went in an hour later to find everyone asleep but him. He was sitting up with the rifle. I just told him to go ahead and come in here with me. My brave boy lasted as long as he could and is now dozing on the sofa after asking me to wake him to take "his turn on watch." I think of all the kids, James has felt the changes these time have brought the most.

I can't sleep. The phones still don't work even though the electricity is still on. Its three o'clock in the morning. I don't know where Scott is. I don't know how my parents are doing. I don't know if my brother made it home before all hell broke loose.

Maybe Scott will be back after first light.


	13. Day Twelve

**Day Twelve**

That scummy, no account bastard. That worthless walking sack of skin. Where ever Carlo is now, I hope he is rotting from his little boy parts outward in a very slow and painful way!

The phones came back on around 6 AM. We know why everything was turned off but I'll have to explain it later when I understand it better; basically Homeland Security kicked in because some predetermined breaker points were reached. The TV signal came back at nearly the same moment as the phones. Less than 30 seconds later the phone was ringing and it was Scott!

He's OK. Beat up, but OK. It took him until the afternoon to get home and he was in pretty rough shape by that time. Carlo better never show his traitorous face around here or God help him when I'm done with him. James feels the same way and to blow off steam we've devised a few nasty bits of revenge should the scum have the temerity to come near us.

After hearing Scott's voice all of my fear and fatigue vanished. I woke the kids up thinking that he was on his way home at that moment. I flew into action and added the last day's ingredients to the Amish bread starter and used one of the resulting four cups of starter to make muffins.

Breakfast: For the muffins I used powdered eggs instead of fresh and raisins instead of nuts. I also added a little vanilla powder to the pitcher of milk to make it richer tasting and put it in the freezer to get ice cold.

After I put the muffins in the oven I finally got an open line and reached my parents. They're OK and didn't experience the communication blackout like we did. They were the ones that told me about the terrorist attack at the Atlanta airport and about the mobs that tried to overrun DC. They told me about the cruise ship that had been spotted adrift off of Miami that had been discovered to have hundreds of NRS-infected people aboard. They also told me of the institution of the Emergency Powers Act and of the Health Care Worker Draft; also, how cities housing sensitive military and civilian strategic points were being occupied by the military and how Tampa was on this list because of MacDill AFB and the Port of Tampa. Things got complicated quickly yesterday. The Feds apparently didn't feel like that had any other choice. But whatever problems these new protocols solve, they are sure to create others to have to deal with.

Just as I got off of the phone with my Dad and the muffins came out of the oven, Scott called again. He had been asked to stay and help fortify what they are calling the Keel Outpost. Its actually the Jimmie B. Keel Library on Bearss Avenue. I guess I better back up and explain or nothing is going to make sense.

Scott said Carlo had arranged an ambush for him. It looked like they planned on taking the van and everything in it and probably holding Scott for ransom. Carlo knew I'd pay whatever they asked to get Scott back safely. Need I say that Carlo learned that trick in his childhood home of Colombia?

Things obviously didn't work out as planned however. First it took longer than expected for Scott and Carlo to reach the ambush point. Scott kept changing the day's work schedule without consulting Carlo which turned out to be a good thing. This may have caused some of Carlo's buddies to not show up or to get cold feet. Either way, there were only two or three people in addition to Carlo trying to pull this off. Second, Scott didn't tell Carlo he had brought a gun with him. My distrust of Carlo had begun to rub off on him. Third, and worst for Carlo's plan, was that they underestimated Scott.

As they neared the intersection where they started to jump Scott, Carlo suddenly attacked using a mallet he had used to lay some pavers at the previous stop. Because of how tight everything is in the cab of the van Carlo only hit a few glancing blows with the mallet before switching to his fists. He did manage to knock Scott's glasses off and break them. Not knowing what was going down, but knowing Carlo was aiming at his head, and in fear for his life, Scott grabbed the gun from the door pocket and aimed and fired in Carlo's general direction. Scott is very near-sighted and losing his glasses was very bad.

All this time Carlo's buddies had been beating on the van trying to get in. Thankfully Carlo was apparently too occupied to remember to open the door locks. They did spider a rear door window but the grill kept them from coming in through the back.

As soon as Scott pulled the trigger he floored the gas and started heading away from the intersection. He thinks he may have run over one of the guys but couldn't see for sure.

Scott still had Carlo covered with the gun and was driving erratically with one hand. About two blocks later, after Scott took out a couple of mailboxes along the way, Carlo opened the passenger door and fell out. Scott swung so suddenly that the door slammed back shut on its own. At that point Scott put both hands back on the stirring wheel and got out of there as quickly as he could.

The problem was it was already late in the day and a lack of glasses result in Scott missing some turns and he wound up farther away from home rather than closer. By the time he got turned back in the right direction it was dark. His erratic driving caught the attention of some National Guard troops and he was pulled over by a police car travelling with them. Luckily one of the cops recognized Scott from the Neighborhood Watch program and that, combined with Scott's ID and story, got him out of trouble.

But being it was full dark they "invited" Scott to come with them to a command outpost which turned out to be in the library. It is a good location because it is a newer building and already has a room set up from computers and wi-fi, not to mention it has a satellite feed.

The medic stationed at the outpost patched Scott up and gave him a tetanus shot just to be one the safe side. He has a black eye, a busted lip, and some pretty bad bruising on his right thigh, chest, and stomach. I didn't know how bad though until he got home and I checked him over myself. After he was patched up he was able to find his spare glasses that he keeps in one of his tool boxes.

Scott is a rather private person but he can make friends quickly in the right circumstances. I guess he scored some points by not complaining and remaining calm despite the situation. He scored more when he volunteered to help set the outpost up, even providing some basic supplies without asking for compensation.

As soon as the outpost got word that communication was going to be restored, they cleared a line for Scott to call home. They also asked him if he would stay and help finish harden the outpost position. They couldn't pay him, but they did trade him several cases of MREs for the work and some additional supplies he carried around as general inventory. Technically they probably could have just commandeered it. This way the mutual aid benefitted everyone and there were no hard feelings.

They also let Scott "check out" a bunch of books and movies for us and the kids. About ten banana crates full to be more precise. The troops were going to just shove everything outside that got in their way. He brought home cookbooks, gardening books, all sorts of DVDs like from the History Channel and kids shows. He dumped all of the "new releases" into the crates as well when he recognized a couple of books that I had been wanting when we had the extra money. He even managed to find a couple of manuals on gun care and hunting in Florida; and pulled every "survival" book they had on the shelves. The crates are sitting in the dining room where the kids have started to go through them.

Back when I knew that Scott wasn't likely to be home for lunch, but might make it home right afterwards, I decided to make something a little different to celebrate. I was also anxiously waiting to hear the whole story of what had gone down and needed something to occupy myself with.

Lunch: Many of my fresh potatoes are starting to sprout some eyes. I bought several bags of potatoes when they were on sale last month but now I know why they were on sale. They weren't the freshest. I cleaned enough to feed the family and baked them. I could have just made more sour cream from evaporated milk, used some of the butter or margarine that still remained in the freezer, but I wanted something a little more substantial and special so I made Crab-Stuffed Bake Potatoes. The recipe called for whipping cream but I just substituted milk and some extra butter added in. For the fresh green onions I substituted a few dried chopped chives. And instead of grated cheddar cheese I substituted some of the grated processed cheese I opened yesterday. OK, so maybe it wasn't exactly like in the restaurants, but no one complained about the difference in canned crab and fresh crabmeat. I also saved one for Scott and a good thing too.

When my man finally drove up and came inside I didn't know whether to jump for joy or cry. I've neve seen him injured like this, it just hurts my heart to see it. The girls and Johnnie were crying really hard. James was shaking like a leaf in what I thought was shock. I quickly realized however that it was rage. Scott and James butt heads often … testosterone and teenage hormones mostly … but right then I knew that no matter what, they were still very close. God help Carlo or any one else that tries to hurt his dad. I have one very angry teenage boy to deal with now.

We all spent the rest of the day fawning over Scott. He was starving and ate what we had saved him from lunch and the leftovers from dinner last night too. After that he explained what had happened in more detail though he glossed over shooting Carlo until the younger kids had left the room. Rose was horrified but James seemed more secure knowing his dad would do what he had to do to survive and return to us.

In many ways Rose is an idealist. She wants to believe the best of people and I'm very afraid that while she is of practical help around the house and with her younger siblings she has a ways to go yet before I can trust her to be strong enough in any physical altercations we may experience. That worries me but there isn't anything I can do about it right now. Unfortunately, time is likely to take care of her idealism before I can bring her around more gently.

Dinner: Scott wasn't very hungry after eating all of the leftovers so I just made a Bisquick Chicken Pot Pie casserole for dinner. Canned chicken and canned mixed veggies were easy substitutes for the fresher ingredients called for in the original recipe. And it only called for one egg so I tried out the flaxseed egg substitute and it worked like a charm. Since there were still some Cake Mix Yeast Rolls for anyone who wanted rolls, there was no need to use any more of the three remaining cups of Amish Bread starter. The starter did get covered up and placed in the refrigerator so that the fermentation process slowed down. To use up the remaining powdered milk in the refrigerator I made Anise Milk as a before bedtime treat to go along with the remainder of the cheesecake that had been leftover from last night. The warm milk helped to calm everyone down for the evening.

I'm all used up and need to get some rest. Scott is already asleep due to the Vicodin I gave him. I had a couple left over from my last bit of dental work. The kids, except for James, are also asleep. He and I stayed up talking about some additional security ideas he has. He wants to camouflage the vehicles when they aren't being used and he also wants to try and hide our two barrels of auto fuel. The biggest project though is he want to enclose the carport somehow. I'm not sure how we are going to do all of this but I told him to wait a day or two and then talk to Scott about it. James doesn't like how the neighbors seem to be watching us and I can't say I blame him, but I don't want to over react either and cost us time and money we are already short on.

For certain it's going to be a couple of days before Scott can do any kind or work or go out again. He is pretty banged up. We have a long list of chores to do already and we need to see what the military occupation of Tampa is going to mean to us personally. Without a doubt there are strange and strained days ahead and we are going to need all of our wits about us to make it through them.


	14. Day Thirteen

**Day Thirteen**

What a day. Scott was so sore he could barely get around, but he wouldn't take a Vicodin until he was ready for bed because they make him loopy. Stubborn as a mule and twice as irritating! Lordy I love that man.

The kids have been anxious and edgy one moment and ecstatic the next because Scott is home. I know this is a natural reaction to the high emotions of the last few days but it hasn't made it any easier to take. It was nearly impossible to keep any of them on task for more than a few minutes at a time. I was ready to turn time outs into knock outs. But at least I was able to constructively use that nervous energy most of the time.

Breakfast: I started the day very early by having the girls help me bake two loaves of bread from the Amish bread starter. One loaf was for today's breakfast and to that one I added drained, crushed pineapple. The bread tasted divine when it was toasted. The other loaf is for tomorrow's breakfast and I added raisins to that one. While the bread was baking I made a small pitcher of Tang. To the Tang I added the juice from the crushed pineapple. I then added lots of crushed ice to make it into a kind of breakfast slushie. I swear, the kids dug into it so fast you'd think I never fed them.

After breakfast we started moving around everything outside that wasn't nailed down. We pulled up the decorative fencing I had bordering my flower beds. We stored most of the outdoor furniture in the shed except for a few lawn chairs we left on the lanai. We moved our gas grill onto the lanai and removed the propane tank and chained it in with our other tanks that I have in my "fuel bunker" out beside the shed. The bird feeder and bird bath that had been out front were moved to the backyard. All of my flower pots and the mulch that Scott brought home what feels like a year ago was moved into the shed as well until I can use it. James made me edgy last night when he mentioned that it felt like the neighbors are always watching us. Paranoia maybe, but there are stories on the news how people are starting to have things stolen out of their yards.

After we finished that I had the kids get started on the laundry that has piled up the last couple of days while I got started on lunch.

Lunch: I made Easy Chili Skillet Bake. This was a very simple meal that only used a couple of cans of the family's favorite chili and a crust made from Bisquick. The single egg needed for the recipe was replaced by the flaxseed substitute and instead of cheddar cheese; I used more of the processed cheese that I opened previously.

After lunch, and since it was the hottest part of the day, I had the kids stay inside in the air conditioning and do their school work while I finished off my plant beds. After laying out the mulch paper I planted sweet corn (yellow, white, and bi-color), cucumbers, okra, peanuts, black eyed peas, peppers (green and hot), pumpkins, summer and winter squash, and watermelon. I hope the power stays on or its going to be hard to water my plants and I have a feeling we are going to need everything we can grow.

I have always fantasized about having a hand pump put on our well but it never worked out. Its too deep for a hand pump, nor would a well bucket work from what we've been told. Scott was going to drill me a shallow well but we could never get the permit and the one time we tried to do it ourselves without a permit we had a neighbor rat us out to Code Enforcement. Grrr. Wonder how those people are enjoying the loss of their rights these days? Wonder if they are recognizing any irony in the situation?

It didn't take long for the afternoon to be all used up and then it was time for me to fix dinner.

Dinner: I fixed Ziti Chicken Casserole. Ziti pasta, canned chicken, condensed cream of chicken soup, Parmesan cheese, and some processed cheese and you are good to go. Its kind of a one-dish meal so clean up was easy since I didn't let the cheeses congeal on the plates or baking pan. A package of commercially baked bread sticks completed the meal and everyone was able to eat their fill, even Scott and James who have both turned into garbage disposals.

You'd think from what I've journaled thus far for today that our lives have returned to the mundane. Not so. Totally not so.

Scott, unable to do much more than hobble around and give orders, stood watch with a gun clearly visible to our neighbors. While some may have been curious about what we were doing, seeing him armed they kept their distance. That suited me fine as I didn't feel inclined to play twenty questions.

Our neighbors may have kept their distance but that didn't mean we didn't have visitors. We had two cop cars show up. The first was in response to a complaint of a man with a gun in the neighborhood. Oy! Scott just showed him his license and the cop shook his hand and left. I pretty much know who made the call as they were looking awful hard through a pair of binoculars before the cops arrived and flagged them down as they were leaving. They looked none too happy with whatever the cops told them. Serves that interfering meddler right. Stay out of our business and we'll stay out of yours. That situation is going to have to come to a head if this keeps up.

The second cop car came to follow up on the report the guys at the Keel Outpost filed concerning Carlo's attack on Scott. They wanted to know if the guy Scott thinks he ran over got up and walked away or how badly Scott thought he had injured Carlo. Scott explained about his eyesight and how it made it impossible for him to know for sure what he had seen, plus how quickly it happened.

The investigators admitted that blood and window glass at the scene, as well as the line of destroyed mailboxes heading away from the area, supported Scott's story but that they had been unable to find any witnesses. Naturally. There was a significant amount of blood found in Carlo's apartment, but no Carlo and the place had been torn apart. We were warned to immediately report if we saw anyone suspicious in the neighborhood on the off chance Carlo sought revenge.

We also received a visit by a hazmat team that took samples and then cleaned the little bit of blood I had missed in Scott's van. I had cleaned that up yesterday but I used rubber gloves and plenty of bleach because Carlo has Hep C. There wasn't much blood to begin with, but better safe than sorry. Looking back I now wonder if the "investigation" was actually about NRS and not the injuries Scott sustained. Maybe I'm being too suspicious.

The last visitors we had were when one of the green military-style hummers that had been patrolling periodically through out the day pulled into our drive way. I was able to personally thank the medic that had taken care of Scott's injuries. While Scott stood talking, I had the girls help me fix some glasses of sweet tea. I had Rose stay inside. No need to have those poor boys distracted by our pretty daughter. I remember young men like that from when my dad was a First Sergeant. No sense tempting fate. I had James help me take everything out and he slowly edged his way over to stand by his dad and listen to the news the men were exchanging. One of those boys from the hummer didn't look much older than James to be honest. That gave me a moment's pause and I wondered if his mother was wondering how he was doing.

After the hummer left – with its occupants I hope comforted with a little old-fashioned Southern hospitality – Scott seemed to run out of energy. James took over guard duty while Scott went to sit down, do bills, and listen to the news. I knew, judging by the look on his face when I finished and came in, that things were pretty grim.

We are still OK financially, or at least we are getting by. Even though it seems like this whole fiasco has been going on for a long time, in reality it hasn't even been two weeks yet. The fact that we already have plenty of food stored will offset what we normally spend at the grocery each month. We haven't had to stop for gas yet either because we've been pulling from our reserves. That won't last forever and we'll need to get a ration book so that Scott can try and keep his work van topped off. Because it is a commercial vehicle he might get a business ration book in addition to our private ration. At least we hope so. That wad of cash that Scott found was mostly hundreds and fifties unfortunately. Scott plans on depositing a couple of thousand in the bank every so often to avoid notice. We'll use that to pay down bills. He'll also try and break the larger bills while paying for things like fuel and apartment supplies. If he only uses one or two at a time we may be able to finally have a turn of our luck. Any twenties and smaller bills are getting tucked away in our floor safe for a rainy day or retirement, whichever comes first.

There are some new rules around town that are going to make things a little more challenging for folks. One, all banks are going to drive-up tellers only. If you can, you are encouraged to do all of your banking online to avoid wasting gas waiting in line. Two, mail delivery and pick up is being reduced from six days a week to three. Tell me that isn't going to upset folks. Refueling at gas stations will no longer be self-service. Apparently people won't be allowed out of their vehicles at the gas pumps and some "official" will be there to inspect and stamp each customers' ration card. That's not going over too well with the Stop-and-Shop type places that make their profit on whatever they can co-sale with their fuel sales. Also, there will be ration cards for nearly all commodities starting next week - sugar, salt, flour, meats, dairy, etc. That'll certainly make going to the grocery store interesting; glad I can avoid it for a while. There are also checkpoints all over town at many major intersections and at Interstate on and off ramps, at least on those that aren't being closed all together to redirect traffic. That's definitely going to create problems.

In other news we've learned that an area equal to a 100 mile circle around NYC has officially been quarantined. No one will be allowed to leave. Period. Whether they are NRS-positive is immaterial at this time. Boats entering waters within this circle will be consider hostile and treated accordingly. I'm not sure how they have this cordoned off but it doesn't seem possible to completely stop movement in or out of such a large area.

Los Angeles is under the same type of sentence but is no easier to triage. Fires, some deliberately set, are burning out of control and have escaped into the surrounding hills. Communication nodes for both cities have been taken off line and blogs and emails from those incarcerated there have fallen silent except for the odd satellite hook up here and there. Being a rich or a celebrity now nets nothing and many of the homes of the rich and famous have been the first to be looted.

The number of confirmed NRS infections continues to rise though authorities say the current levels are still manageable as long as the public continues to cooperate and report sightings of any infected individuals rather than resort to vigilantism. In other words "rat out they neighbor and let the authorities do their job" is a new commandment. Not that I don't agree to a certain extent. If NRS cases are allowed to increase unchecked the pandemic could overwhelm any possibility of controlling it. And seeing as there is no cure for NRS – no one is even really sure if NRS victims in the final stage are technically even alive anymore – it would be better for the health and safety of the public to see that the infected are contained humanely. If they are alive give them palliative care until death occurs. If the NRS infected aren't really alive then destruction of the brain stem seems to be the only way to end the resultant … "creature." There have been arguments on both sides of the case for months now and no one is any closer to a definitive answer.

Families of NRS victims have been filing docket-clogging numbers of court cases. That is they were until federal, state, and local authorities began to bill them for capturing and "sanitizing" their NRS-infected family members. The families have tried to have their insurance companies pay for the costs, but the insurance companies are falling on the side of the argument that says the NRS victims "no longer constitute human life so are therefore no longer covered by a policy." And it looks like the Supreme Court has decided to quickly hear a suit from one of the higher appellate courts. The current thinking is that the SC will designate NRS an "act of God" similar to a tsunami or earthquake and that those infected with NRS are no longer human after the infection reaches its final stage. That will answer the question that has arisen regarding the euthanization question. You can't euthanize a dead body, nor do you give a dead body palliative care. This will supposedly make "disposal" of the infected legally easier to handle. It should also remove some of the moral hazard from those agencies and individuals trying to protect themselves or the public.

I'm glad the SC is hearing this quickly. I've had nightmares of seeing Zombies v. The State of Florida where John Smith, Esq. brings a class action suit on behalf of zombies everywhere because they are having their civil liberties violated. Some people are just too stupid to be allowed to procreate.

Locally we are being warned that we may experience some utility interruptions. Oh goody. Thinking it is one thing, hearing it confirmed just sucks. People on municipal water have also been warned to boil their water until further notice due to some water mains running through areas that saw rioting being damaged. Just to be on the safe side I'm keeping all of our water containers topped off. I am also pulling all of our solar powered gear out tomorrow and getting everything checked over and charged up.

My "to do" list keeps getting longer and longer no matter how many things I scratch off. And my patience is becoming shorter and shorter. I'll have James walk with me around the house one more time and then we'll call it a night. Tomorrow will get here bright and early. Ugh.


	15. Day Fourteen

**Day Fourteen**

A good night's rest did wonders for my disposition. Scott on the other hand was suffering even worse. The bruises look just awful and he says he feels as stiff as a board. The medic said he didn't think he had any cracked ribs but I'm gonna keep an eye on him just the same. We've got insurance but things are so crazy right now that I'm not sure that I trust that route. I heard on the news this morning how they are "pre-screening" people and taking blood samples for some government studies. You don't get to opt out apparently. You see a doc or go to the emergency room and you get "sampled." Ugh! Scott says he's not so bad that he needs a doc, just some rest and to be left alone for a bit. Hopefully form this point forward he'll start feeling better although he did run a fever off and on today. I think it was mainly caused by him pushing himself too hard too soon.

Breakfast: I was in such a improved mood that I made Cinnamon Batter Dipped French Toast. I didn't even have to wake the kids. The smell drew them out of bed. I used the loaf of raisin bread I had made yesterday by slicing it into uniform pieces. I made the batter out of Bisquick, milk (from powdered), cinnamon, vanilla, and eggs (from powdered). It was good and filling but very rich.

As two of the kids cleaned up from breakfast, I had two other chopping ingredients for lunch and let Johnnie play with legos in the middle of the floor rather than in his bedroom. After that James took his turn entertaining Johnnie and keeping him out of trouble while the girls aired out all of the linens in the master bedroom.

I decided it was time that I got brave and asked Scott how he was really feeling. Not physically, but about having to use the gun. After we had a good talk I'm fairly certain that he's OK with having to use the gun to defend himself. He's not happy about it actually coming down to that but he knew that by carrying the gun he was admitting that he had to be willing to use it. What's bothering him is Carlo's betrayal.

Scott and I employed Carlo off and on for nearly ten years. We gave him steady work for decent pay even when he wasn't at his best. Even after spending six months in jail for contempt and violation of probation (DUI and failure to pay child support) we looked after his stuff while he was serving his time and took him back when he got out. We even advanced him the money (some of which we still haven't been repaid) when his mother died so he could pay for a plot and a funeral service. We did other stuff that went beyond your typical employer/employee relationship. Heck, I even had him over to the house for dinner a few times.

I guess I began to lose my trust in Carlo when I realized what a womanizer he was. It didn't help his case with me that he wouldn't pay his court-ordered child support except to stay out of jail. That really bothered me. I don't know, maybe it's a female thing, but a guy who won't take care of his own kids is untrustworthy on such a primal level that I couldn't bring myself to fully trust him in any other way either.

I know this will cause us some unexpected problems but I'm glad Carlo is gone. After having time to cool off, my need for instantaneous revenge is over. I don't necessarily wish him dead, but I won't mourn him if he is. It could have been Scott; and if that makes me appear cold-hearted I can live that.

Scott is going to stay home another day or two so that he can heal and make some calls to see if he can find someone to ride with him. This isn't a good time to try and go out in certain areas of town with no back up. I told him to make sure it isn't anyone that Carlo hung around with 'cause he didn't get a good look at whoever it was that was helping with the ambush. I guess I'll worry more about it when the times come but at that point in our conversation I had to get up and start lunch.

Lunch: The Ham and Corn Casserole I fixed calls for Bisquick, canned ham, a can of creamed corn, and a can of Mexicorn that has the red and green peppers in it. I opted to use shredded processed cheese instead of cheddar, powdered eggs instead of fresh, and dried chopped onions. My family never knew the difference. It filled their bellies and that's about all anyone cared about after such a rich breakfast.

After lunch I dragged some of my garden containers onto the lanai and started to refresh the dirt in them. I need to get my tomato seedlings planted. After I plant all of my heirloom seedlings it'll be another two or three weeks before I can plant anything else. In September I have a lot of to get in the ground and then in October I have another round of planting to do as well. The more I think about it, the more I know my garden is going to be important. Momma feels the same way. I talked to her again this morning and she told me she had Daddy and Brother till their whole garden area rather than just the kitchen garden like she has the last couple of years. August and September is going to be even busier for her 'cause they need to feed two families – assuming my sister in law doesn't pack up and leave for her parents' place. She really isn't adjusting well to rural life. At least her parents are telling her she needs to stay where she is at because they don't have enough food to feed themselves, let alone adding her and the kids into it. I have a feeling that the stress of moving and now the NRS situation added on top of the financial stress they've been under is going to really try their relationship.

Everything going on makes me want to be careful of taking my own marriage for granted. Gender role is one of those questions that arises from time-to-time in history. Scott and I worked most of that out between us when we were dating and in the first year or two of our marriage. But we are both hard headed and not above having to learn a lesson more than once. I have a feeling that if things get worse and/or persist for a protracted amount of time, we're going to see a shake up in many so-called "modern" relationships. You've gotta be flexible if you expect your relationship to work, but at the same time you have to share a list of absolutes so that you can build trust in the other person. If you become to flexible or too fixated on too many absolutes then there is going to be trouble.

Speaking of trouble, thus far we are still being left along by the neighbors but we've started doing our own spying since they seem so intent about being into our business. People are getting cranky and there looks to have been a few fights. None appeared bad enough to call the cops over – or maybe they called the cops and it was way down the priority list so no one ever came out. Either way, illusion or not, while there is some outright antagonism apparent here and there, a certain amount of normalcy is being maintained.

Some parents aren't using good sense and are going off to work, leaving their kid(s) unsupervised. With the school still closed I guess some don't feel like that they any other option. The strict curfew controls most of the problems that could result, at least in our neighborhood. Of course the threat of being hauled off to a quarantine center for "anti-social behavior" has caused both kids and adults to think twice about how they act in public. Come to think of it, maybe that is why we didn't see any cops at the neighborhood fights. It won't last, of course. Civil unrest is bound to return. The next time may get very bloody as modern social order breaks down.

Dinner: After breakfast and lunch, no one was really in the mood for a big dinner. I thought it was just about time to use up one of the Chorizo sausages I had stored away. Chorizo is a shelf-stable Hispanic sausage that comes in an airtight plastic package in our area. If you watch the "best used by" dates on the packaging you can find them so that they will have nearly a year of storage possibility. Chorizo is what is popular in our family's area because of all of the Hispanic heritage; however, other areas have their own varieties. Summer sausage, jerkies, Trail sausage, pepperonis, and salamis are just a couple of other examples of shelf-stable sausages. There is also canned sausages and sausage-flavored TVP to pick from, but I decided to use Chorizo to make a Sausage Pie. After baking it was quickly sliced and consumed. Anyone who wanted some had plain popcorn during our board game time. After that the kids were off to bed, except for Johnnie who was already there. James had had to carry to bed when he fell asleep in his dinner plate. Scott was too tender to lift Johnnie's weight and I had strained my back lifting a bag of dirt.

After everyone was out, I gathered the ingredients to make Horchata which is a kind of Mexican rice milk. I also baked the last of the bread from the Amish Bread starter. After it cooled I wrapped it and stored it in the freezer just in case one of this coming week's meals are a flop.

Another thought I'm having is that I'm thankful we can continue to homeschool the kids. It makes it so much easier on us these days. Our kids are already used to the idea of doing school at home. It means that Scott and I already have time in our schedules set aside for facilitating the kids' education. The loss of freedom to go to all of their other curricular and extracurricular activities still impact us, but at least we have an established pattern of behavior rather than having to create something totally new during an already stressful time. However because the majority of families are struggling with this issue the government is mandating that the public schools reopen within the week. They are also calling it an economic move so that parents can stay in the workplace. Schools that were damaged during the rioting will have classes in alternative locations. Lots of other details will be announced in the next couple of days by the NRS Committee, or so claims the mainstream media who I fear is becoming nothing more than a mouthpiece for the NRSC. At least that is one thing we don't have to worry about, thank goodness.

I can understand how the kids are feeling to some extent. I'm too busy to be bored but I am to a certain extent. I'm still running on the high of Scott coming home safely but at the same time the anxiety isn't totally gone. I'm too focused on survival to have lost hope, yet there is a certain amount of depression to deal with. I guess I'm feeling a little edgy and kinda claustrophobic from being stuck at home on top of everything else. I've got to find a way to spice things up a little. I mean we can't go crazy but to fight the food fatigue gremlins that have been coming on and to keep everyone's morale up I need to come up with something. I think I have an idea but I need to think about it some and confirm a few things with Scott before I'm sure.

As far as everything else goes I guess it is going OK, or at least there hasn't been much change. They haven't had to widen the New England quarantine zone though they have created a secondary quarantine boundary approximately 50 miles outside of the original. They've turned Alcatraz Island into a Safe Zone and they are moving infection-free children out of San Francisco as quickly as possible as SF will likely be quarantined like Los Angeles if they can't bring the NRS under control. Its spreading quickly through transient populations like tourists, the homeless, and students.

All communications have been lost in Haiti and stories are coming out of the Dominican Republic that their military is holding off hordes of infected people trying to cross the mountains. Guantanamo had to be evacuated, at least temporarily, after the Cuban government failed to contain an outbreak of NRS as well as issues with resupply ships being hijacked by hungry and desperate Cuban nationals looking for a way off the island.

To address an unusually large outbreak, authorities in Quebec set fire to a large apartment complex and continued to pour flammable liquids onto the conflagration until there wasn't anything left to burn. Millions of dollars in personal property was destroyed in the blaze and the number of dead is not being publicly released at this time; supposedly until all next of kin can be notified.

Here in Tampa they picked up five NRS-positives but there is no word what they did with them. All of them were members of the same gang from Clairmel so there are APBs for all members of that gang, who are of course now hiding from authorities. Members of this gang were arrested last month for the beating death of a homeless man. Tampa's original outbreak was in the homeless population. I wonder if that's just a coincidence. It would seem, just like in San Francisco that transient populations of any type would be the most vulnerable because they lack the ability to completely secure their surroundings for any length of time.

They have opened Raymond James Stadium as a homeless "shelter." Part of me is suspicious about this move. If nothing else it has the makings of another "Superdome" incidence or the same type of problem that Houston had with the Katrina evacuees. A stadium is a poor shelter for long term purposes. Maybe it'll hold up just long enough for the authorities to do whatever it is they are doing with their "sampling" routine. If I had to guess, the authorities may be underestimating the homeless population and many may refuse their questionable hospitality.

Whatever is going on, it looks like we better prepare for worse to come.


	16. Day Fifteen

_**Author's Note:** Hope everyone is enjoying the pace that the story is being posted. As the journal entries get longer I'll probably slow down the posting speed but until real life intervenes the plan is still to add at least one journal entry per day. I am interested in hearing what anyone thinks of the story so R&R when you have the chance._

* * *

 **Day Fifteen**

While we've had some tribulations the last two weeks, we've handled the things that were actually within our control fairly well. Granted I've come close to panic a couple of times but I never actually crossed the line. I feel like I did when I passed a particularly grueling exam in college. I studied hard and even though the questions were more difficult than I had anticipated, my preparation still went a long way.

I've watched the kids trying to … well … not be too much like kids. On the one hand it has helped get us through some difficult spots, on the other hand I'm not sure that it is very good for their overall health and psyche. They are turning too far inward and not reaching out to each other or us enough. Seeing all of this crap going on around the world was already bad enough, but now to have it in their own state and even city. Combine that with what happened to their dad and I'm awful worried that they may forget how to actually be kids after a while.

Time for me to put on my Mom Helmet and do some family reconstruction. I need to pull them out of their rooms and pull them out of themselves. After talking to Scott he agrees we need to give them some one-on-one but I've also decided to do some creative stuff with the menu and add some fun to the day when possible. Heck, no one is going to provide that for us, we need to do it for ourselves. Does this seem a tad naïve or even a little silly? No doubt to some it does but I'm the mom so I have to try something. If this doesn't work then I'll move on to something else.

This week we are going to have a different geographic theme each day. Kind of like an international food faire. I've thrown a couple of games and crafts in there as well. I'm willing to try anything to get the kids to focus on something other than what they are seeing and hearing on the news even if it does make me look corny or "mom-ish." The older two gave me a little bit of eye rolling at first but at least acted like good sports and participated. It gives me hope that I haven't let this go on too long. Today's theme was Mexico.

Breakfast: For starters – Mmmmm – homemade tortillas are so easy to make once you remember to cover the tortilla press with some plastic wrap to keep the dough from sticking every time you make one. I couldn't hold onto the remainder of the fresh eggs forever. They are nearly a month old now and who knows how much longer there will be before our area begins to be affected by utility interruptions. If they have to be used, I decided to use the last of them in a true celebration by making Huevos Rancheros. I also used the Horchata I started last night. And after breakfast I also started another round of Amish Bread starter.

Lunch: I made more tortillas for lunch (and a few extra for dinner) and used them for Chicken Quesadillas. This was so simple it would've been silly if the having and cooking of food wasn't becoming such serious business. First layer was a tortilla, then canned refried beans was slathered on top of it. Some canned chicken that I had shredded went on top of the refried beans. Then some canned nacho cheese went on top of the chicken. The final layer was another tortilla, then the whole thing was heated through using my iron skillet, sliced into wedges and there you have it. Yummy!

When I say food is getting to be a serious business I'm not kidding. We finally had a couple of neighbors drop by trying to drum up support for a group that is advocating that food and supplies get confiscated from "hoarders" and redistributed more appropriately. I think they were also trying to trick me into sharing how much food we have in our house. I didn't fall for it and turned all of their questions back around to them. I also tried to get them to define "hoarder" and "appropriate redistribution." Seems like this group doesn't have any absolutes and that they will adjust their parameters as needed. Definitely not the type we want to get hooked into. They may start out with the best of intentions but its very doubtful that is where it will end.

When they finally tired of being polite and came right out and asked how much food we had I used subterfuge and acted embarrassed and excused myself after saying I needed to go inside and "scrape something together" for the kids for supper. The inference being that Scott and I were foregoing food so our kids could eat what little their was. They left disappointed and certainly no wiser.

I coulda thumped Scott for not helping me out if he hadn't already been so bruised. When I asked him why on Earth he hadn't sent the idiots packing he said that one, it would have just made them more determined and two, he was having too much fun watching me talk them in circles. Honestly that man has the oddest sense of humor sometimes.

Dinner: I took the leftover tortillas from lunch and made two things with them. The first was homemade chips to go with a jar of store-bought salsa. The second was dessert – fruit fajitas. I paired these two items with canned tamales and Chorizo Pumpkin Soup. The dinner was a little on the thrown together side but it was a good use of prep items and suited our personal tastes. And since I had made Horchata for breakfast, I decided to make Atole for a warm, before-bed beverage. It worked as well as warm milk to help put everyone in a relaxed mood.

While we ate dinner Scott and I explained to the kids why it is becoming even more important that we keep our preps under wraps. I'm sure we haven't seen the last of the efforts to "redistribute" material resources from the prepared to the unprepared. I think I'm beginning to see Rose slowly start to gain a more healthy suspicion of people, even if they are acting with the best of intentions. Now she is beginning to see that not all ideals are well meanting for everyone. People could literally enter our home without our permission and take our food and supplies on the slim excuse that other people who didn't prepare needed them.

On the off chance that such a group does manage to make it passed our security some how, we've decided to try and hide our preps around the house. Scott is going to reinforce the beds and box springs and they will hold a lot of canned goods. We are also going to build a chase in my closet beside the air handler. It will be at the top and at an awkward angle and will look like insulated duct work. The last big place we have is we are going to open up the wall behind our bookcases. It is an interior wall with no insulation or plumbing so we'll have quite a bit of space between the studs. We may also build a false wall in the pantry to hide all of our home canned goods but we don't have the supplies for that yet.

I wonder if all of this means that we need to start thinking about more security for my garden? I would be highly hacked off to get up one morning to find we've been raided by garden pirates. That thought though is going to have to wait. Scott and I made a date for a little privacy and seeing how the kids are now in bed and asleep we'll slip off to Scott's office for a little one-on-one time of our own.


	17. Day Sixteen

**Day Sixteen**

How ironic that I had chosen today's menu theme to be Middle Eastern. That area of the world has been in the news quite a bit today.

Fear, superstition, and extreme fundamentalism has caused NRS infected individuals to be labeled as demons in several countries. I never thought though about how it would be viewed in the Middle East; at first glance it is the same. Apparently even in Islam there is a method for exorcism. There is an additional problem though associated with extreme fundamentalism. There are these religious laws called sharia and because there are different "schools" of sharia there is some conflict concerning how an NRS infected body is to be treated and how the families of an infected person can be treated. There is a lot of conflicting information coming out and I don't have enough knowledge to interpret it. All I know is that things are getting truly messed up over there. You've got one group saying that NRS can be exorcised out of a person and we all know by now how dangerous this type of thinking can be and the messes it can lead to. Then we have the groups that say that its OK to use infecteds as a bio-weapon and how their descendants will be rewarded for the sacrifice. Another group reads the sharia as an excuse to go in and exterminate entire families based on the infection of one member; it has to do with shame or heresy or cleanliness or something like that. Then you have the group, though admittedly small, that consider an NRS infected person as a "jinn" which heads off into the totally bizarre direction of mythology, family law, and a bunch of other stuff that I just don't get. Like I said, it's a mess.

And of course, now countries – particularly China and Russia – are offering their "help" to secure the oil fields and refineries in that part of the world. The US is already giving aid to some countries in the area via the UN. Tell me that isn't a train wreck in the making. It wasn't too unexpected when Russia lost Venezuela to NRS-related infrastructure failure but still, a little less potential for disaster would be appreciated.

All of this is hitting the US economy pretty hard as well. The economic slowdown of the last couple of years has helped lower demand for oil thereby keeping prices somewhat under control but when Venezuelan oil exports began to slow, prices started spiking again. Now fuel is being rationed. Electric bills are pretty high and Scott and I have compensated the best we can by keeping the lights off and by turning the thermostat up, but the last couple of months have been extremely humid. If it was just hot that'd be OK … it's the humidity that is a killer. We keep it at 80 to 82 during the day and the AC still kicks on. At bedtime we drop it down to 78 so we can at least get some sleep without souring the sheets every night.

This morning was another warm one. I'm really thankful I didn't pull a doofus and unplug the frig just because there wasn't food to put it in. Having cold water is a blessing when I come in from working on the garden. It was also really good because the food we had today was really different from what we are used to eating and some of us needed more to drink than we normally do. Scott and I have been to a few of the Middle Eastern restaurants around town so the cuisine isn't totally unfamiliar to us, but it was to the kids.

Breakfast: After squishing the bread starter (day 2) I got down to business. "Fooll Mudammes" or Egyptian Fava Bean Breakfast is a popular Middle Eastern breakfast dish served around here. It is certainly different from your traditional North American breakfast dishes but that's part of the beauty to this whole exercise – experimentation and getting out of the rut of repetition. Normally the dish would be eaten with pita bread, but I just used up the last few of the tortillas from yesterday. For a breakfast drink I made Apple Sharbat. While the sharbat would normally be made from a fresh apple, I substituted unsweetened applesauce since all the ingredients got whirled together in a blender anyway. The meal wasn't bad, but Johnnie balked a little bit at eating it until I told him it was this or nothing. I could tell he was considering choosing "nothing" but I think hunger won out due to his missing most of dinner last night. Note to self: hunger is not necessarily a bad thing under some conditions.

After breakfast, I taught the girls how to make pita bread. It's pretty simple but can take some patience. Personally I like pita bread, but any flatbread would have worked for the remainder of the day's meals.

After that was done I went outside to check on my plants and water them as necessary. My shriek brought Scott running. 'Course I got chewed out for scaring him but I was furious at the time and still am. Squirrels gnawed through a place in the lanai screen and they had made a mess with my planting stuff. I swear I am so tired of those tree rats. Scott is going out tomorrow and I've asked him to see it he can come up with some animal traps. I've had it. I'll poison the stupid things if I have to. First they get through our soffit and into our insulation in the spring and now they are chewing through our screens. I'm just not putting up with it anymore. If we had an outside dog or cat we probably wouldn't have near this problem but we just didn't have the heart to get another animal after our old cat died last year at 19 years young. I had her longer than the kids and I thought it would be too hard to replace her. And now with feed and upkeep of an animal getting so expensive it just isn't a good time. James offered to try and pick some squirrels off with his pellet gun but I don't want to do that until Scott can pick him up some more pellets. We put off getting them thinking they would make a good birthday present and now I don't know how easy they will be to find. Hindsight is 20/20. We'd probably also have to deal with a couple of tree-hugger neighbors we have for "killing innocent and defenseless animals." Blech! I like animals as much as anyone else, and Sarah cries over Bambi and shows like Animal Cops, but I still consider human beings at the top of the food chain and get irritated at people who can't see that.

By the time I cleaned up the mess, salvaged a tray of tomato seedlings, and patched the hole in the screen it was time to fix lunch. I didn't get to half the stuff I wanted to this morning and that is really irritating. Time is something I can't afford to waste anymore.

Lunch: Middle Eastern Macaroni and Garbanzos. I haven't found too many recipes that are easier and it used all shelf stable ingredients and seasonings as well. For the onion, I just rehydrated some chopped onion and then sautéed that. Pita bread on the side. It filled everyone's belly and gave me time to get back outside and finish what I had tried to start this morning before the storm clouds started rolling through.

I got the sunflowers in the ground and got a box of arugula and mesclun greens going as well. It's still a little warm for the greens but I figure I can filter the sun using the pool cage screen and hopefully that'll keep things from wilting or frying. I'm definitely going to have problems with that metal fence. The heat radiating off of it at mid-day was pretty intense. I accidentally touched it with the back of my arm and yowzer! My arm still has a red patch on the skin. I've got a little bit of that stuff you wrap the root balls of trees with but not enough to cover the entire fence. I wonder if it will radiate the cold in the winter as much as it radiates the heat right now. I've also got several rolls of landscape sheeting – that stuff you put down before you put mulch down – but I had wanted to save it for my plant beds. Add another thing to put on my "to research" list.

My guava and fig trees in the big pots are almost ready to pick. Not many, but Scott will get the guava in his lunch box and I'll preserve the figs by drying them. The jujube tree is also approaching harvest time. I'm still worried about having to find a way to protect our edible landscaping. I can move the trees that are in pots a little bit, but where to put them and how often to move them is going to be the question.

My daylilies are still blooming and I'm glad I planted those in both the front and back yard. Not that I really want to experiment right now, but you can actually eat daylily pods. I took that foraging class a few years ago and its amazing what you can eat. The thing is we are so used to the hybridized varieties of foods that eating a more "natural" food is foreign to our pallet because they are often more bland, less sweat, or more bitter than we are used to. I really hope it doesn't come down to eating things like cattails and daylilies but it'll be nice to know its there if we need it. I sure don't want to have to fight the neighbors over stuff like edible weeds and seed pods. That would have to be a worst case scenario if ever there was one.

Dinner: Moroccan Chili with 10,000 Grains of Sand was a recipe that I gleaned from a show by TV cook Rachel Ray what seems like a million years ago. The "grains of sand" are couscous. Couscous requires a willingness to try out a different texture and Bekah has problems with that, she can't eat Jell-O without gagging either. I got lucky and she's the only kid I have with texture issues. Having picky eaters would suck in a PAW situation. One of the good things about couscous is that it requires very little cooking time and is great to use if you are conserving cooking fuel or cooking time and in this heat, the less time I have to stand over a stove the better. The original chili recipe called for fresh ground lamb, but I substituted canned ground beef that I had put up several months ago. Hurray for home canning! I substituted the correct proportion of dried herbs that the fresh the recipe called for. We used Pita bread to scoop up the chili and couscous. It was fun having everyone sitting around a big pan and scooping out their dinner a bite at a time. No double dipping though. Not even with family. Ick. For dessert I made Middle Eastern Carrot Cake which is kind of like a cross between gingerbread and a more traditional carrot cake. I used powdered eggs and the cooked carrots came out of a can although baby food carrots could also be used in a pinch I suppose. Either way it turned out delicious.

Clean up was actually pretty easy which left us more time to catch up with the news. There's a double edged sword for you. Like I mentioned, the Middle East isn't doing so well at the moment. It's got some of the military higher ups a little jumpy I think. Certainly has the NRSC wearing long faces for the cameras. Wonder if they are doing a happy dance when the cameras are off and the doors are closed. I know some probably think it is payback time since several of the governments over in that area refused to cooperate with containment efforts by the West and the UN when the NRS pandemic first began.

The Middle East isn't the only place having problems by any stretch. They are still talking about what is going on down in the Caribbean island nations. And Mexico is in shambles. About the only country between the US and Brazil that is stable is Costa Rica. I don't know what the effect from that has been on boarder crossings, legal or illegal. Apparently the NRSC has suggested to the Feds that there needs to be more US military on the ground along all of our borders. That doesn't bode well for Florida. We have the longest coastline of the US, second only to Alaska that has over 5000 coastal miles.

Speaking of Alaska, so far they are NRS free in the interior of the state and only in Anchorage have they had one outbreak of NRS that they were able to contain on the ship that it came in on. If only all of the other states had been so lucky. Poor old San Francisco looks like it is getting even closer to being the next total city quarantine zone. Alcatraz Island isn't even full yet and they say they can't find any more kids. My head doesn't even want to go there. What's freaky is that Miami might not be far behind SF. Strangely enough the gangs are actually helping down there … or maybe its not gang related so much as vigilante action. Either way the media reports make it sound like a war zone with regular gun fire and "hunting parties" roaming at will to protect their neighborhoods. Talk about surreal. Little Havana is looking more like its name sake every day.

For our relaxing bed time drink tonight I fixed milk with saffron. The saffron threads gave the milk a distinctive flavor and a golden color that the kids really liked. I had the saffron from some that I had bought for making yellow rice, but they are too expensive to get silly with.

And since I brought up of expenses, Scott is heading out tomorrow to try and bring in some money to pay bills with and to change out some of the cash we found. I'm not feeling exactly comfortable with this but he found a kid to help with the runs. OK, not a kid but a young man that we've rented to for a couple of years. I guess he is all of 22 or 23 now, not much older. He works a semester and then goes to school a semester. He's done some work with Scott before and seems to have a pretty good head on his shoulders. Won't have anything to do with drugs or druggies, pays his own way, and in general keeps his place up and stays out of other people's business. Scott told me David's dad died when he was 10 and his mom fell apart which left him to raise himself. Got into a little trouble early on but managed to straighten up quickly enough that he didn't completely ruin his life. I've met him and I know he didn't get along with Carlo. That's a point in his favor.

My main beef is that David doesn't have his own car; he bikes everywhere. This means that Scott is going to have to pick him up and drop him off every work day. That's extra gas and extra time that it will take Scott to get home to us. I guess we'll just have to see how things work out.

I'm hoping that while he is out Scott can find the time to find some stuff on our "need" list and maybe even a couple on our "want list." We've got food covered but I never imagined needing so much of some of the stuff I keep coming up with ideas for. That false wall in the pantry and finding some way to cover the metal fence are just two of the projects I would like to get to as soon as possible. And now that I'm thinking about it I wish we had a couple more solar battery chargers and the batteries as well. I'd love to be able to do a little early birthday and Christmas shopping as well. Who knows what things are going to be like in a couple of weeks, much less a couple of months from now.

Oh well, the warm milk is doing its job and I'm beat. I'd like to say tomorrow will be a better day, but I'm not sure I really hold out much hope for that. Isn't that a nice, cheery thought to take to bed?


	18. day Seventeen

**Day Seventeen**

I don't know where to start. So much has happened today; some good, some bad, some horrific.

The day started off ordinarily enough. We got up. Scott did a little paperwork in preparation of going out while I got the kids up, squished the bread starter (day 3), and started breakfast.

Breakfast: I had chosen China as our geographic theme of the day and the only Chinese breakfast recipe I could find was for "Twisted Devils." Traditional Chinese breakfasts are quite different from what the Western World views as breakfast. The dishes are usually savory rather than sweet and are often eaten quickly rather than enjoyed with a morning paper and coffee. The twists are like crullers in that the sweetness doesn't come from the dough but from whatever the cruller is dipped in or whatever is sprinkled on top of it. It's deep fried dough that is easy to mix up quickly but they don't come out pretty and uniform without a great deal of practice. Mine looked pretty disgusting to be honest and I had a mess of splattered oil to clean up afterwards.

Scott said I earned a "A" for effort but asked that I not make them again. It was pretty embarrassing but hey, you live you learn. That was pretty much the last chuckle I had for a while. My stomach was already in a knot about Scott going out. His bruises are still pretty spectacular to look at; real sunrise on a stormy day kind of colors. At least he was moving around a lot easier and it only took Tylenol to knock down the twinges.

Scott hadn't been gone five minutes when there was a loud knocking on the front door. I looked outside to see who it was and it was the neighbors from yesterday plus a man and woman I didn't recognize. What troubled me – besides the fact we were being watched since it was too coincidental that they waited for Scott to leave before showing up – was that the man and woman had made the effort to dress up in uniform-ish looking suits. First thing that popped into my head was "uh oh."

When I tried to fob them off with the "little woman not allowing strangers in the house without her husband home" routine they said that was OK to call him to come home, that they would wait. I was tempted to ignore them and let them roast in the day's heat until they figured out I wasn't biting whatever they were selling but I knew I needed more info about what was going on. I bundled the kids back into my bedroom and told them they had to be very, very quiet. I told James and Rose that they were not to let anyone but their dad or I into the house under any circumstances. No matter what and handed James one of the rifles. It got real quiet after I did that. I grabbed my little voice activated recorder and clipped it into my shirt pocket and attached my earplugs to it to make it look like an mp3 player. I think Rose thought I was over reacting at first but she didn't say anything or try to stop me. I positioned James at the front door and Rose at the back. As soon as I had left by the back door I had them roll down the security doors as quickly as possible and not to stop no matter what they heard.

As soon as I was out the back door and the roll-downs started coming down I could hear all four of my "visitors" start to make a huge fuss. So much for the professional act they were putting on. If I had any doubts they vanished as soon as I turned the corner and saw them trying to prevent the doors from coming down.

I startled the heck out of them when I shouted for them to get their hands off of my personal property and demanded to know why I shouldn't call the cops right then and there. They quickly "apologized" and tried to regain control of the situation but I already had their number. They may have tried to pull this crap with other people who rolled for them, but they hadn't run up against any real resistance. I was about to give them a little training on who NOT to try and push around. I can't stand bullies and I intended to rattle their cage a bit if I could.

After giving the two neighborhood guys a contemptuous look I focused all of my attention on the goon and goonette. Their feeble attempt to look "official" in their dark suits, white shirts, and red ties was even more irritating in person. The chick even wore a masculine red tie and that really spiked my irritation. Women are already powerful; there is no reason to go around pretending like we have to dress like a man to show it. My respect for goonette fell a couple of more notches.

Wondering just how much respect I was going to lose, I asked them for some identification. They gave me a couple of business cards and some blah-blah-blah letter in legalease on some of the worst looking letterhead I've ever seen. I could have made up better looking letterhead with an MSWord template and my laser printer. Theirs was probably done on an inkjet 'cause it was in color and looked like it would run if it got wet. The business cards had those stupid fold-and-tear edges you get on cheap stationary. Dumb and dumber. They were a little shocked when I folded the letter and shoved it and the business cards in my back pocket. When I asked them for a copy of their business license and their federal tax ID number they started struggling to breathe. Honestly, I began to wonder what kind of amateurs I was dealing with?

That's when the goon started gobbling at me to the effect that I obviously had no idea who they were and that they had approached me in the spirit of cooperation but since I didn't seem inclined to "cooperate" they would have to report me to their superiors. OK, I'll admit that I went from irritated to PO'd at that point. Giving the goon the smile that usually has most people who know me taking two giant steps backwards to avoid the blast zone, I proceeded to "explain" to him that I was trying to check the veracity of his claims, that thus far I had not seen any legal documentary proof that they were who they said they were, that I would immediately be reporting this incident with their names (along with the names of my darling neighbors who brought them to my property) to the State of Florida's board of professional regulations, the local police, the Keel National Guard Outpost, and anyone else who sprang to mind. I would also be reporting them to the NRSC hotline just in case they happened to be falsifying claims of affiliation with the Feds. That last one turned the goon's face pale, but I had made an error in judgment in ignoring the two neighborhood men.

One of 'em grabbed me by my upper arm and started with this idiotically menacing voice of, "You are making a mistake …" right before I turned around and kneed him in the groin. Goonette musta been saving it up because she came at me with nails bared and got an elbow somewhere between her nose and mouth for her troubles. I don't like to fight, certainly not physically. And I avoid confrontations probably way more than I should by making excuses to myself that its better to avoid trouble. But after everything that had been happening recently, including Scott getting injured, I was just in a foul mood and was ready to let my inner country girl come out and play a while. No one threatens my family and I had just plain had all I was taking.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending how you look at it, just like with most bullies they quickly lost their group cohesiveness when they found out they might actually have to pay some consequences for poking at the wrong person. I told goon and goonette that I would definitely be remembering them and that they'd best not come around this street any more at all. Goon helped the bloody goonette who still had her hands clapped to her face back to their car. I suggested that she should go see a doctor for that and that I'm sure they would be happy to take her samples at the same time. Of course they would have to make an explanation of what had happened but that I just knew that they could prove their official capacity to the local NRSC representative. They just ignored me but I hope they felt the digs I was trying to get in. They weren't big digs, but they were all I could come up with at the time.

The two neighbor guys tried to bluff their way out by way of saying that this had gotten out of hand and that I had over reacted to their overtures of friendliness. I told them once upon a time I might have believed that but given that I knew that at least one of them had been in on the trouble that code enforcement had tried to give us on some of the work we had done to our home I now take everything they say with a grain of salt. Not only that, I suggested that they had better look to their own families' business before they started messing in other people's. If they didn't get their kids under control they were going to have to start visiting them in a quarantine facility as I know for a fact that one of them had a juvie criminal record and that all of them had participated in some of the nastier pranks that been going on in the neighborhood over the last couple of years.

I certainly didn't make things better when I told them that I had recorded the incident that just took place and that I would be turning a copy of it over to several local authorities; and that if anything started happening at our place like theft or vandalism or anything else we would know exactly who to send them to. If these guys weren't enemies before, they certainly felt like enemies now.

It only took a matter of minutes for this all to go down. It certainly didn't happen like I had expected. Certainly not the physical confrontation. That I hadn't really expected. I'm more mouth than fists.

In hindsight I know I could have handled it different. I could have waited for Scott to come home. I could have ignored them. I could have handled it in any number of different ways. But I didn't. After what has happened tonight I'm glad I didn't … but sad at the same time. I hate feeling that I've somehow let myself down and sunk below a certain expectation of how I should act. And to have the kids witness it made it worse.

After I got back in, calmed the kids down – especially James who borders on hating the son of one of the neighborhood guys and who I probably shouldn't have handed a gun – and got myself calmed down I only had the energy to think about what I was going to say to Scott and what, if anything, I could do to make things better. I knew Scott was going to roast my tail feathers for putting myself in such a potentially bad situation. And he did, nice and crispy too. But I also now needed to think about revenge. Not me, they aren't worth it and I wasn't really hurt, just shook up. But what could they do to us? First thing I thought about was my garden. I had James help me to move all of my outdoor containers into the pool cage. That wouldn't be any protection so I've been thinking of how we can bring the plants in at night and take them out during the day.

I began adding to my "to do" list while making lunch.

Lunch: I made Basic Fried Rice to which I added canned bean sprouts and a can of mixed Chinese vegetables. Nothing fancy but not bad. I wasn't particularly hungry but the kids all ate with gusto. Seems that seeing their mom willing to kick some backside and come out the winner somehow made them feel safer. I want them to feel safe but I'm sure there is supposed to be a lesson on the consequences of un-necessary violence in there someplace. I just didn't know how to verbalize it without sticking my foot in my mouth. Scott yelling at me tonight might have made them think twice, but with James and even Rose coming to my defense several times I'm not totally sure.

After lunch I had Sarah start on a Coconut pudding for tonight's dessert that was made from canned evaporated milk, coconut extract, and powdered egg whites.

I was still on tenterhooks about what Scott was going to say. I decided to turn on the news to calm my nerves. I'm glad I did, but it did everything but calm my nerves. Los Angeles blew up. I mean it literally blew up. As in bang, bang, kablam, kablooey. No one is sure what happened but between the fires and who knows what all, some serious explosions rocked the entire LA basin from one side to the other. Some people said it was an earthquake, some are saying that with the fires out of control they reached main power stations that caused a backfeed felt across the city and thus had a domino effect of some type. That sounded like spin to me. There were a few whispers that it may have been government intervention to try and take care of an escalating out of control NRS-infected population. All I know is that the military isn't letting anyone in or out of the area and that they've widened the quarantine zone around the city.

Alcatraz Island has become … I don't even know how to write this. Apparently either an infected worker or child slipped through the checkpoints. All the children … They are saying that it was a blood bath. I'm not thinking about that any more. James is the one who heard it first on his laptop. He has some kind of news agrigator scrolling on his screen at all times these days. I sent the younger three to play at the other end of the house so I could turn the TV on and try and catch what happened. Rose saw the pictures and had to run to the bathroom to puke. I heard James telling her later that "that's not going to happen to us, Mom and Dad won't let it, I won't let it, but you have to pitch in and help … " I know they send young men off to war, but I never thought about my son that way. I always thought he was too young. But I guess maybe he isn't. But that still doesn't change the fact that I'm determined to give them as much of a childhood as I can. And I'm just not thinking any more about that right now.

They added San Francisco and Oakland to the full quarantine zones as well. There has been a huge migration of people trying to head out of the state of California in general but they are running into roadblocks all along the state border. Unless you have relatives in another state that have signed an affidavit that they are willing to take you in and be legally responsible for you forget it. College students are caught on both sides trying to get home to their parents. Air traffic into and out of California is now confined to military only. All other aircraft will be considered dangerous and they will either force them to set down inside the California borders or they will be shot down inside the California borders. The New England quarantine zone also now has this rule.

I expected to see Miami on the list of quarantine zones but apparently not yet. I guess that is a blessing. It also means that maybe vigilante groups are going to be the way to go. James said, "don't call them vigilantes mom, call them militia men." I told him until they could prove themselves to not be self-serving thugs I'd call them whatever came to mind. But I did it with a wink so I didn't hurt his feelings. I don't want him to start thinking that being a vigilante is anything to be proud of. My little example this morning didn't help and I'll probably be paying the price for that little show for some time to come.

Dinner: I was totally out of it mentally when it came time to start dinner and all I could think to make was Chinese Jambalaya. While not truly traditional Chinese cuisine, it certainly mimiced some of the spicier rice dishes in Chinese cooking. I used canned Asian vegetables to replace the fresh ones called for in the original recipe and for the tomatoes I used well-drained canned petite diced tomatoes. This got mixed in with a commercially packaged box of Jambalaya mix, cooked per directions, and "bam" it was finished. And just in time for Scott to get home.

Oh yeah. Did I ever get nailed. I don't think I've ever seen Scott this mad. Not only that but both James and I jumped on him and he still managed to drag us down to the neighbor's house intent on beating the living crap out of the guy for touching me. What we found though was totally unexpected. The guy was in tears. I mean big tears, heaving cries, and a snotty nose ... the whole nine yards. Seems I'd been a little prophetic when I said that his kid was going to find himself locked up if he didn't change his ways fast. The guy kept shouting until I could finally get him to understand that I hadn't actually called anyone, that I had just said that to make them leave us alone. Or, at least I hadn't actually gotten around to calling anyone yet because I wanted to talk it over with Scott first, but I kept that bit to myself. Of course by that time we had a neighborhood full of witnesses. I didn't know whether to be scared or mortified.

About that time a woman I vaguely recognized from living around the corner stepped out of the crowd and said that a couple of them had called the cops because they saw four "guys" try and attack me. The cops never showed up because the fight broke up and we all walked away, but they did make a report by phone. I didn't know if that made me feel any better or not. People watching what was happening but not willing to take a stand; but I guess they had called the cops so that was something. I said that couldn't have resulted in the kid being picked up because he had nothing to do with it. The guy asked me if I was willing to make a statement to that effect. I don't like the kid, but I didn't want him to be falsely imprisoned. My son could be next. What a mess. Scott was still blistering, told the guy that if he ever came near us again there would be hell to pay … and when Scott said hell they guy must have been impressed because he stumbled backwards after getting a good look at Scott's face.

Dinner was very tense but gradually Scott calmed down. I had to promise not to do something like that ever again and yada, yada, yada expose myself to unnecessary danger and blah, blah, blah because he would be very angry and hurt etc., etc., etc. I know I shouldn't be so flippant about this. If I want Scott to take my feelings seriously I have to take his feelings seriously. But I … argh! … He loves me sooo much, easily as much as I love him. I just can't stand being wrapped in cotton while he takes all the chances. So, OK, maybe this isn't a "chance" that I should have taken and I'm beating myself up a little bit over it already. But having Scott upset about it makes it worse. The house already feels like a gilded cage, I don't need any more imagery in that direction.

I was digging around for a way to broach the subject of garden security when Scott himself brought up. We're going to clear out his office and start bringing in all my containers every night. It will be a tight squeeze and a load of work twice a day but Scott says some of the tenants have already complained about having stuff stolen. It looks like this will have been something coming with or without the ruckus this morning. That only makes me feel slightly less stupid.

He also brought home a bunch of stuff that we need to unload from the van first thing in the morning. Some of it was from my list and some of it was just stuff he picked up because he could. Guess Sugar Daddy's cash is coming in handy. We had another tenant skip on us but the neighbors had family from Miami show up unexpectedly that are eager to rent the place. The place was empty, if not clean, and the new renters said they would take care of the cleaning for a discount on their security deposit. One less problem.

When I asked him how David worked out today he said that while he doesn't have as much experience as Carlo did, and doesn't know how to do as much, he gets what he can do done faster and without a bad attitude. He'll keep employing him as long as things continue to work as well as they did today. What worried me though was that Scott said David looked like he wasn't eating regular. Scott split his lunch with him. That isn't going to cut it. I guess I'll need to pack more tomorrow, I'm not having Scott go hungry and I know he won't like the kid go hungry no matter if it means sacrificing his own lunch. When I stocked up on food I hadn't expected to have to feed another full-grown male.

I really didn't want to talk about what had been on the news but for once Scott was in a mood to talk. My mind keeps shying away from thinking about Alcatraz. I just … I'm not going there even in this journal. There are some things that are just too dark.

I made some Chinese Milk Tea to settle my nerves and everyone wanted a bit. Scott's was more tea than milk and Johnnie's was all milk with just a splash of tea. Everyone else had theirs somewhere in between. The kids piled around the sofa and read or did something else while Scott and I talked. After Scott was talked out we got down to some snuggling and making up. The kids gave us the "ewwww" look and said they were going to bed.

Scott just finished the last of his account entries and his notes so I'll stop here so we can double check the locks one more time. I hope tomorrow is a little less "adventuresome." I'm still a bit jittery.


	19. Day Eighteen

**Day Eighteen**

While I've been tense all day there was no retribution for yesterday. You wouldn't think I would have had time to really worry as much as I've done today, but its always at the back of my mind, even now that we have everything locked up safe and sound for the night.

Scott was up earlier than usual. We needed to get the van unloaded so he could get going. I got the kids up and they started to help unload while I started breakfast.

Breakfast: Today's theme was Italian. OK, so I picked one that was going to be easy on me. I needed "easy" and tomorrow's theme promised to be more challenging anyway. The most traditional breakfast in Italy is apparently a cup of coffee and a pastry. Yesterday proved that just wouldn't fill our family up and hold them until lunch. Especially if we were going to be doing a lot of manual labor. I opted to make what my Aunt Nina always called an Italian Breakfast Casserole. I'm not sure how authentic the recipe should be considered, but it worked for us. While everyone ate breakfast I squished the bread starter (Day 4) and went outside to water my garden.

Scott headed out right after breakfast leaving me to eat my own breakfast and to get started on the list I had started yesterday. Today would mostly be an indoor day which didn't hurt my feelings any at all. I didn't want to have to worry about being watched on top of everything else. First I had to deal with all of the stuff Scott had brought home last night. He brought me cases of the cleaning supplies I had asked for, taking the last two cases of bleach off of the shelves at SAMs. He also picked up a bunch of batteries – regular and rechargeable, as well as three marine batteries that we could use to hook up to our solar panels. I got a case of light bulbs instead of the package that I asked for which I thought must have been Scott in a hurry and not thinking. But what the heck, we'll eventually use them and better to have them and not need them than to need them and not have them. There were a bunch of other odds and ends as well. He even remembered to pick up some socks and underwear for Johnnie and James which were badly needed.

When I asked Scott why hadn't he gotten the more important lumber for the false wall in the pantry he said he'd ordered it but he couldn't pick it up until tomorrow when he picks up the rest of his order at Home Depot. They are rationing everything these days and only the fact that he paid cash up front kept it from taking over a week to take possession of the order.

After I figured out where I was going to store everything temporarily, I had Sarah and Bekah start bringing me all of the #10 cans from our food storage. I quickly filled our queen-size box spring with roughly 125 #10-sized cans of dehydrated and freeze dried foods. Rose's twin mattress was filled with about half that many

James' bed is a captain's bed so there isn't a box spring. Instead there is a platform that holds three drawers side-by-side. I had James take the drawers out and stuff as many rolls of toilet paper in there as he could while still being able to fit the drawers back in. He got over 36 rolls in there which I thought was pretty good.

The girls normally sleep in a bunk bed as does Johnnie; no box springs there either. However the girls, Rose, and Johnnie have walk-in closets that have 10 foot ceiling in them. On one shelf in the top of the closets I put as many additional paper products as I could. At least if the paper stuff falls no one is going to get a concussion. Been there done that when that can of freeze dried strawberries came down on my head in the utility room. I'm lucky it was just a mild concussion and a couple of stitches. If it had been dried eggs or dried milk, I coulda lost my head all together.

I spent the rest of the morning stuffing toilet paper, napkins, paper towels, feminine hygiene products, and all sorts of other paper products in all of the out-of-the-way places around the house as I could find.

Lunch: Lunch was pizza. Ok, ok the pizza that most North Americans eat isn't necessarily the same type of pizzas that you would find in Italy or Europe but the kids had been begging to make pizza for lunch for over a week. If they were willing to do the prep and clean up then I was willing to say "go for it." The pizza crusts came from packages of mix. The pizza sauce was out of a jar but got doctored with more garlic and some Italian seasoning. The cheese was a combination of processed cheese, grated Parmesan, and grated Romano. The kids also got their pick of pepperoni and a little sausage-flavored TVP for the meat, or canned mushrooms and onions for the veggies. Just for the heck of it and to give the kids something different to do, they cooked their pizzas in a box oven they made from a heavy duty cardboard box that was covered in aluminum foil. The fuel was coals leftover from a fire from some oak branches that Scott had cut down when they were building the fence the other day. Rose made a very strong, sweet lemonade that she stuck in the freezer until it was ice cold. It didn't quite turn into Italian Lemon Ice, but it was close. The whole thing I put down in their school portfolio as science, home ec, and shop projects. I have no idea whether the school district is even pulling portfolios this year but better safe than sorry.

I left the kids to clean up while I continued trying to figure out where I was going to put everything that was still all over the house in miscellaneous little piles. Those little piles have been mocking me for months and I was just flat out tired of constantly having to walk around them. By hiding stuff I made quite a bit of floor space; we needed it. After Scott got home it took over an hour just to move everything out of his office and another hour to cover the floor – thankfully ceramic tile – with a tarp and to move the most vulnerable plant containers in. Glory this is going to be some work. I figure that we just added two hours of work to our schedule every day for the foreseeable future. Fun, fun, fun. But better than the alternative which is losing my garden.

Scott reported that people are getting really worried about where their next paycheck is going to come from. The decreased work hours available due to the dusk to dawn curfew has caused a lot of lay offs and salary decrases. Scott has already been getting signals from a couple of our tenants that they won't have heir rent come the first of the month, or they'll maybe only have part of it. All the mortgages, utilities, and insurance are covered by the rent income from our subsidized units. So long as government agencies continue to mail out checks we should be OK for that part of it, but we still have to pay property taxes come November. That doesn't count repairs and maintenance on the rental units, legal expenses, our own personal expenses or any kind of savings like for the kids' college funds. Things just keep getting tighter and tighter. And most folks tend to put the landlord at the bottom of the bill pile.

The thoughts of one discomfort lead to another. I'm not really all that sure about Scott's plan for tomorrow. He's going right after daybreak to pick David up, stop by Home Depot for his supply order, and then he's bringing him back here to work. In addition to the false wall lumber and drywall, Scott bought all of the supplies to enclose our freestanding carport and to build an enclosed walk way from the carport into the utility room. We'd talked about doing this for security purposes but I didn't think we had actually made the decision to do it yet. Scott felt we had. Not a huge miscommunication but I'm not asking how much the materials cost; I figure that the Sugar Daddy money has to be going really fast. I suppose the work will go faster if all three of them - Scott, James, and David - are working on things but it just feels hinky having a stranger in the house after the recent turmoil we've been through.

Dinner: For dinner I fixed spaghetti. I could have used some of my home canned sauce that I made a few months ago but I had one commercial sized can of Ragu brand that I hadn't found a place for yet. I doctored it up with lots of garlic and onion, some canned mushrooms, and some dried veggies that I had like bell peppers, carrots, and zucchini. I would normally add ground beef and sausage to my sauce but it was already meat-flavored so I gave it a pass and tried to play it economical. Instead of bread sticks I made Grits Cakes which is kind of like a southern-style polenta. Everything was very good and all of my little piggies got to eat until they were thoroughly stuffed which they hadn't done in quite some time. I baked some Rusks while we ate dinner because I will need them for tomorrow's breakfast.

We all had mugs of Amaretto Cocoa while listening to the nightly news as it fed out more of the same old same old. The quarantine zones are holding so don't worry. Food deliveries are due soon so don't hoard. Fuel prices will stabilize soon so please be patient and conserve. Infection rates are reportedly the same except for spikes in quarantine zones so follow the NRSC mandates without question. It's almost become normal.

Except we have active duty military troops and National Guards patrolling the streets of our city. Except we are hiding most of our food stockpile on the off chance some government agency wants to "equitably redistribute" supplies around. Except the terms "NRS," "infected," and "zombie" all get used in the same sentence several times a day by the news media. Except I have to worry about Scott maybe not coming home at the end of the day because a zombie got him. Except I am stuck in this gilded cage we built and slowly going nuts.

OK, so I'm being more than a little melodramatic about the gilded cage part, but it has been over two weeks since I left our little zero point four acre yard. And everything else is true.

I better sign off here. Scott's going to open the wall behind the bookcases and I'm going to try and hide as many cans in those areas as will fit before bed. I want as little as possible visible to David while he is here tomorrow.


	20. Day Nineteen

**Day Nineteen**

Another long day today, and we have an overnight guest which feels kind of bizarre.

Up before daybreak so that we could eat and get Scott out the door right at sunrise.

Breakfast: Today's theme was Africa. OK, so we are talking a whole continent as opposed to a single country but it was what worked. The South African Rusks I fixed last night were dunked into strong, hot cocoa. Not bad but I planned on a mid morning snack of Melktert which is kind of like a Chess Pie for those familiar with southern cooking. I also added the Day 5 ingredients to the bread starter and let Johnnie squish all of that together to give him something to do and to keep him out from under foot while James, Sarah, and I moved the plants back outside.

Scott left in the work van pulling the enclosed trailer. First he swung by and picked up David then they both went and loaded the stuff from Home Depot. It was nearly 10 AM before they showed up here and I've never seen such a mess in my life. Scott is usually much more organized with his loading but apparently they were pushed out of HD as fast as they could toss supplies in the van and trailer. Scott said by the time he got through the loading line was wrapping around the building as people waited to get their order verified and their ration books stamped. Luckily Scott has a commercial account whch expedited things for us. No one has to know that most of the load was for our personal use. When they got in they backed into the carport. Scott's plan was to close off the sides of the carport before emptying all of the supplies so that the neighbors couldn't see what we were doing.

They got one insulated wall completely installed right as lunch was ready. Good thing I made a lot because I swear Scott, James, and David were hollow from the feet up. David looks quite a bit thinner than I remember him and he wasn't a big guy before. The weight loss doesn't look good on him. It makes me wonder just how bad things are getting for some people.

Lunch: I fixed West African Beans over rice. This recipes used canned white beans and plenty of onion and garlic and was served over white rice. I could have cooked the beans from scratch but didn't feel up to that much work on top of everything else I was doing. The dish is also a bit spicier than the kids are used to so to cut some of the heat I made Liberian Rice Bread that used a box of Cream of Rice cereal as its base. Instead of the plantains the bread recipe called for I used a jar of banana baby food. Scott is still puzzled why I insisted on buying those cases of babyfood; buy, between one thing and another I know they'll get used. Another splurge I made since we had company was Ethiopian Punch. One of the last items that I stocked up on was individual serving sized cans of fruit juice. The reason I did this, despite the extra cost, was so that I wouldn't have to open a large can to just have a cup or two of juice for a recipe. You can get an amazing variety of juices in these sized containers now – grape, orange, grapefruit, pear, pineapplie, prune, coconut, apricot, etc. – or at least you could before everything hit the fan. I also poured off the remaining juice from a jar of maraschino cherries and used some raspberry syrup we had used for snowcones over the summer. The recipe made a whole gallon and I even had to cut it a little bit with water because it was really strong.

After lunch the fellas were back hard at it. For the first time in a long time Rose actually volunteered to help me outside in the garden. It took me all of two seconds to realize that her sudden interest in botany was actually generated by curiosity about David. Suppose it had to happen sooner or later and we've been lucky that she has been more academically focused up to this point. Hopefully Scott won't notice and blow a gasket (or hurt her feelings by laughing). As far as I could tell David was completely oblivious so I'm not going to worry about it. He's actually a good kid from what I can tell from closer dealings and it turns out, at 21, he's younger than I thought.

The guys had finished up the other side of the carport plus put the gate across the front when James came inside to ask me to come take a look. When I went outside I could hear several sirens off in the distance. Given our proximity to two fire stations, an ambulance service, the interstate, and a road that leads to a major hospital I didn't think too much of it at first, but when a pretty significant plume of smoke developed off to the southeast I got a little worried. When a military convoy truck came through the neighborhood telling everyone to get indoors and stay there I naturally gave the situation my full attention.

We all went inside and turned on the TV to see what was up. I had to ask David twice to come inside; he seemed a bit embarrassed and at a loss as to how to react and barely stood inside the doorway. He didn't really move until Scott told him to come look what was on the news. First thing on every local channel was footage of University Community Hospital in flames. Luckily we apparently just missed the live coverage of the nurse whose face was eaten off being sanitized by the hospital's NRSC representative, then this same man looking down at his arm and noticing he was bitten and subsequently putting the pistol in his mouth and "sanitizing" himself. Needless to say that bit of footage will not be re-aired and there is a Federal Order for a 10-second delay on all "live" reporting from this point forward; all under the guise of FCC rules of course, so as not to unduly alarm the public. Hmmm, wonder if my typing is embuing that last sentence with the amount of sarcasm that it deserves.

Official reports are that there were originally five NRS escapees from the mobile morgue that was parked at UCH. The mobile morgue was ostensibly to be used to separate out infected corpses and sanitize them. Apparently the new supposedly more "humane" sanitizing by lethal injection to the brain stem or by lobotomy doesn't work. Over the objections of the ACLU officials are returning to the previous sanitizing method of brain destruction by blunt force trauma, bullet, or fire – whichever is more expedient. The asinine "catch 'em with a net" mandate is out as well to the total relief of the front line hunters. Three of the infected were apprehended almost immediately, but not before entering the hospital via a loading bay and wreaking havoc. One was captured while we were watching the news. That leaves one still on the loose. One is enough.

The one escapee is also why our area is on lock down.

Dinner: Life must go on so while the guys watched the news I fixed African Curry for dinner. I did have to substitute canned chicken for the chicken pieces but that wasn't a problem and all the other ingredients I already had on hand. Again I served it over rice. With the extra mouth to feed I'm glad I have plenty of rice and beans. There was a little Ethiopian Punch left and we served it over cracked ice for those that wanted it otherwise I had made a gallon of solar tea. For dessert I made an eggless African Ginger Cake. The spice came from cayenne pepper as much as anything else and was kind of interesting.

Before full dark we brought all of our plant containers back in even though we weren't supposed to be outside at all. Now that we know what we are doing moving the plants is taking less time, but it is still a pain. Tomorrow I'm getting the dolly out of the shed to help with the bigger pots.

When it became apparent that David was pretty much stuck here, Scott stepped in and convinced him to stay. But none of us could convince him to sleep on any of the spare beds. He opted for the air mattress on the living room floor.

When I asked Scott why he was being so stand off-ish he explained that David was just very self contained and didn't know what to make of our big-family-togetherness or what to make of him being so readily included. I guess it can get a little overwhelming for an outsider but David, for all his aloofness, is turning out to be surprisingly likeable. Poor kid; he is bringing out my mother hen side. Hope he can stand it for a while longer. He's stuck with us for another day anyway as Scott wants to complete the carport tomorrow and try and at least get started on the false wall. Not to mention no one is going anywhere until the NRSC ends the lockdown.

I'll also admit that there are benefits to having an extra adult in the house on a night like this. James and I are taking the first watch. Scott will take the second watch. And David will spell Scott for the last watch as he is naturally a very early riser anyway.

For those that wanted to relax I fixed West African Hot Chocolate. It used dark chocolate rather than cocoa powder or milk chocolate for its base. The sweetener was a mix of honey and brown sugar. It also had vanilla and cinnamon to it. I drank more tea to keep me awake but the warm milk after a day of hard work and nerves pretty much put everyone else straight to sleep.

James is sitting here beside me nodding off and it is time for me to go wake Scott. I've been listening to large vehicles rumble up and down our road off and on for the last couple of hours. I guess they are still looking for the last NRS victim. Except for those trucks, everything has been unusually quiet. Not even the token dog or cat fight has disturbed the night. I hope they find the infected person soon if they haven't already. I don't want to be cooped up in the house all day tomorrow.


	21. Day Twenty

**Day Twenty**

Woke up to the news that the NRS Containment Team caught the last of the escaped infected victims around 4 AM this morning. Somehow the diseased person made it all the way up to the county line unnoticed. The only reason he was eventually caught was because he stumbled into the Pasco County Animal Shelter. The screams of the animals and the screams of the night staff were heard by a patrol. Luckily only the infected person had to be sanitized though many of the animals had to be euthanized due to their injuries and other trauma. The two staff members had survived by locking themselves in the rabies quarantine room.

Today's menu theme was the UK. I've never been but have always wanted to go there for a visit and play tourist. Given the economy and how crazy life has turned I'm wondering if I'll ever get to visit the land many of my immigrant ancestors came from. It certainly kept the kids occupied studying England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. It helped keep them out of trouble since we were still pretty much stuck in place while the authorities back tracked the NRS victim's path.

Breakfast: Oatmeal is supposed to be a very traditional Scottish breakfast and our family frequently enjoys it for breakfast too. To make it even more authentic, I used steel-cut oats. Yummy and very filling.

I felt pretty good about the fact that David didn't have to be asked twice if he wanted seconds. I think all the guys were in an eating contest this morning. David and James got along really well. I worried a little that James would be jealous of the time that David gets to spend with Scott. James wants to go out and help his dad so much but then feels bad about the idea of leaving "the girls and the baby" home alone with no manly protection. I'll give both of the boys double bonus points for being so mature about the situation and I could tell David also went out of his way to commend James for having the patience to stay home. I think that made James feel grown up.

Right after breakfast the guys moved the plants out for me and then started moving all of the stuff from the van and trailer in. Then they finished enclosing the walkway to the utility room door. What I really like is that they included our well house in the enclosed area. That'll secure it against potential vandalism which is something I had been worrying over a bit.

They finished measuring and cutting the lumber to frame in the false wall in the pantry right as I finished preparing lunch.

Lunch: I fixed a super easy version of Potato Soup. The recipe used instant potato flakes instead of raw or canned potatoes. Then I made a fresh batch of Irish Soda Bread to go with the soup. The meal was rounded out with tea to drink; iced and sweet as opposed to hot.

After lunch the guys finished framing the false wall, put up the drywall, then mudded and taped the joints. The resulting hidden space is 5 feet by 8 feet. Scott had already built me shelves along the 8 foot section of the wall for our last wedding anniversary. The one disadvantage is that there is no electricity in the space. James said he will put a ceiling hook in there so that I can hang a lantern and I've also got some of the LED tap lights that I can stick on the wall. I've got the barrels of grains in there that Daddy sent. They barely fit at either end of the space. Then I've got the few super pails that I have lined up on the floor at the bottom of the shelves. I spent the rest of the afternoon putting all of the jars and cans back onto the shelves as will fit. That still leaves quite a lot that I haven't got a space for and Scott said depending on what goes down over the next few weeks he might close in the other side of the pantry. I'd wind up with a hallway from the house into the utility room as opposed to going from the house into a room that I use as a pantry and then into the utility room.

For the door Scott framed out a small panel that opens out. He used really heavy duty hinges and then bolted an old wooden bookcase to the panel. David actually came up with the idea of using a speaker mounting magnet to keep the door closed rather than trying to figure out how to hide a handle or knob. I'd still like to figure out a way to latch and lock the area but the magnet gets the job done so well that I really have to pull to open the panel.

You can't see the door because the book case hides it and you'd think the door was sitting on the floor but it is actually about a quarter inch off and easily swings without dragging the ground at all. I'm pretty impressed if I do say so myself.

They got as far as they could by 3:30 which is when the lock down was lifted. Before Scott and David took off we had "tea time" to mimic the English tradition. Our "biscuits" were lemon cookies and we had iced tea which seemed kinda sacrilegious but it was just too hot for anything else. Not to mention I could just imagine the looks from the guys had I pulled out my china tea service. Of course the cookies were inhaled.

Scott fairly flew to get a few stops made and David back to his place so that he could return home before curfew kicked in. I packed David a thermos of soup to take home and he was touchingly grateful and promised to return the thermos tomorrow.

When Scott got home he told of being forced to go through several check points. The path the NRS Infected was well to the north of our location, thank goodness. Scott seemed to get the feeling that the NRS … oh for Pete's Sake, why is it so hard for me to even type it?! Zombie. The freaking zombie's path passed to the north of us. And no, typing the word doesn't make me feel any less weird but I guess that is the term we are all going to eventually get stuck saying. It is just too outlandish to hear ourselves talking about real zombies as opposed to the ones in the gory movies I used to enjoy watching.

As I was saying, Scott seemed to get the feeling that the zombie must have hit at least one other location between the hospital and the animal shelter. Nothing has been on the news, but if not, then how did they figure out the path? Makes you go, "Hmmmmm. What are they NOT telling us?"

Dinner: Dinner was one of the more complicated dishes that I have made since we started our voluntary sequestering. First I fixed Chicken Cider Pie that required me to substitute canned chicken, canned mushrooms and canned carrots for the fresh ingredients; the pie crusts I had to make by hand which was a trip after getting spoiled (or lazy) buying crusts frozen for the last couple of years. I then made Creamed Peas, substituting canned peas for the frozen. For dessert I made bread pudding using the loaf of Amish bread that I had put in the freezer. Everyone but Johnnie had tea again to drink for dinner.

After dinner Scott added a little more mud to the drywall joints. Tomorrow he's going to have James sand the wall and then texture coat everything. The day after that we'll paint the room and ceiling, throw down a rug, hang some pictures and hopefully a casual inspection will leave no one the wiser.

The kids and I brought my plants in right before it got dark and then rolled down the security doors. Since they caught the zombie – glory, there is that blasted term again – we won't set any night time watches.

When I asked Scott what David did at night, he told me he has a closet that he barricades himself into. That just breaks my heart, but I'm not sure what we are supposed to do about it. What we do for him we would have to do for all of the units. But at the same time he works for Scott now and maybe there should be perks for that. Carlo (the scum bucket) certainly got his share of perks. One thing that Scott and I discussed is providing him with at least one meal on the days David works. He's a good kid, but I worry that we are getting too attached to him too quickly.

After yesterday's ruckus, today's news seemed tame. They added the Dallas/Ft. Worth area to the list of cities that are in danger of quarantine. New Orleans also made the short list as did Little Rock, Arkansas of all places. Chicago is holding their own as is St. Louis after a brief flare up in infection rates. I've got several internet buddies in both of those places so I'm glad that they are at least keeping their heads above water. Who knows how things will go this winter though with heating oil being in short supply.

Something that was on TV that I consider rather silly was an infomercial on how to spot an NRS-infected person complete with charts and graphics and "key questions" to ask before assuming anyone is infected. Excuse me, but if I have what I think may be a zombie baring down on me or a family member I'm not going to stop and note skin tone, whether they have blood on them, and ask them if they know their own name, the year, and who the current president is. Geez. I guess they started having trouble with vigilante justice using the excuse, "But I thought they were a zombie" a few too many times. I think the politically correct "solution" though is just as bad as the problem and will probably cause twice as many deaths. We've now lost an entire hospital to that type of nonsensical thinking.

I'm too exhausted to hop on top of that particular soap box tonight. Late nights and early mornings are beginning to remind me too much of my college days when I was young, dumb, and way too full of energy for my own good. I'm just not cut out for that nonsense any more and having five kids, a husband, and a household to run is more important than reliving my youthful idiocy. Obviously I'm cranky so I'm going to head off to bed. Maybe a good night's rest is what I need.


	22. Day Twenty-One

**Day Twenty-One**

It was a quiet night but somehow that hasn't been comforting. Too many things have been happening too quickly. The quiet feels too much like the calm before the storm. I realized this morning that it's been a full three weeks since we started sequestering. I continue to believe we are doing the right thing but it isn't an easy thing. I still feel hemmed in, like my world has shrunk to the borders of our yard; but, at least the feeling is distant and not beating at me all day long any more. It's a strange sensation. But lately my whole life seems to be a series of strange sensations.

Scott was up and out as quickly as I could get breakfast out of the oven.

Breakfast: We may be stuck at home but our menu has taken us all over the world this week. Last stop is in the South Pacific with a Polynesian theme. This morning we had Pineapple Muffins, big ones, with a glass of milk. I had to scavenge the macadamia nuts for the recipe from a bag of trail mix, which was kind of silly if I think about it, but otherwise everything was fairly normal. I did send one with Scott for David and I packed some crackers, cheese, Vienna sausages, and canned fruit cocktail for their lunch. I'll try and have leftovers for their lunches from now on when possible. I also did the bread starter thing (day 7).

After breakfast the kids helped me take the plants out and while they did their schoolwork, I did some cleaning and maintenance on my plant beds. James brought his laptop outside so he could "keep an eye on me." I wanted to pinch him he sounds so much like Scott but the honest truth is that there were a few places in the yard that I felt like I was being watched. I think someone in the two-story house that sets off form our rear was spying on me again. I know they had to be the ones that blocked my access to the canal. I don't know all of the people living in the house these days. There is an older lady named Mabel that owns the place but just recently one of her daughters moved home bringing an adult male and several teenagers with her. I'm assuming that's her husband and kids but we've never been introduced. I've seen Mabel out and about less and less and she doesn't wave and say hello like before. Sad as she was a nice lady if a little nosey. I can't say I'm thrilled with her family; one of the teenage boys in particular gives me the creeps. The kid is an exhibitionist and I have to be careful of the girls when I know he is around; he's a little too 'clothing optional' for my taste. Icky kid in my book.

Lunch: More beans for lunch. We better get used to that because beans and legumes were among the cheaper prep foods and I took advantage of every sale I could. They'll also provide a significant portion of our protein. I fixed Calypso Pineapple Bean Pot and served it over rice. It was really simple. The leftovers will be lunch for Scott and David tomorrow.

After lunch I called Mom and Dad for an update. Most everyone up that way is doing OK. My sister in law is still a little depressed and didn't even want to talk on the phone. Mom says she is keeping busy arranging and decorating the trailer they are living in. They did have to lay down the law to my nephews. They roamed a little too far afield yesterday and got lost. A neighbor spotted them and everything turned out all right, but they are city boys and need to learn the rules before they get their complete freedom back. Personally I'll believe that when I see it. My sister in law isn't big on discipline. Hopefully with my brother home more they'll straighten up and at least pretend to follow the rules for a while. Daddy said he has a couple of gallons of sorghum and cane syrup for us. I'm not sure how we are going to get it but it sure would be nice to have. I have several large bags of Splenda that I'd like to send to Daddy, again though I'm not sure how to get it to him. So far, so good with Daddy's diabetes and blood pressure. I convinced Mom and Dad to get a 90 day supply of their meds and their doctor just got them another 30 day supply from samples. If things get crazy though I worry that they won't be able to get what they need. One more reason I'm relieved to have Brother living next to them.

I had planned to work in the front yard until Scott came home but James came unglued at the very idea. I just decided to fight that battle another day as I was sick of yard work anyway. Instead I took some of my bulk ingredients and made up some convenience mixes so that I wouldn't have to start from scratch at every single meal. I made soup mixes, flavored oatmeals and pancakes mixes, muffin and bread mixes, cocoa & other drink mixes, and even a few cookie mixes. Most of the mixes I put in empty canning jars but a few, like the nearly empty soups, I put into ziploc bags and then sealed them air tight with my Seal-a-Meal.

By the time I finished doing that and some much needed laundry I just barely had time to get dinner started before Scott came home.

Dinner: I used a canned ham topped with Polynesian Sauce for the main dish. The combination of canned peaches and pineapple in the sauce was really interesting. I also fixed Polynesian Carrots for a side dish. A fresh salad wasn't happening at the moment but more and more I am waiting for the Mesclun greens to be ready. Those greens only take 35 to 45 days to mature and will be a really welcome addition at the dinner table; I miss fresh fruits and veggies. For dessert I fixed Polynesian Bars and the kids chowed them down. Rose suggested saving one for David. Hmmm. Seems like the interest/infatuation may still be lingering.

During dinner Scott told me about all of the craziness at the rental units. Most of it was run of the mill and relatively normal but David had rocks thrown through a couple of his windows overnight giving him a pretty good scare. Scott took some scrap lumber and screwed it into the window frames. Luckily that unit only has three windows – living room, bedroom, and bathroom. The door is metal in a metal frame so we shouldn't have to worry too much about door damage. We got so tired of having to rebuild door frames and replace kicked in door panels that most of our units now have metal doors. The cops haven't liked it a couple of times when they were raiding but they ain't paying the repair bills.

David's neighbors claimed they hadn't seen or heard anything of course but another landlord with property in the area warned Scott that he thought he had seen Carlo yesterday down by the Quick Stop. He couldn't be sure but if it wasn't him it was somebody who looked a whole lot like him hanging out with the same old crew of no-accounts that have caused problems in the area for years.

Hearing Carlo could still be around both relieved and distressed me at the same time. I'm relieved that Scott won't have to face possible criminal charges. Despite the blood in the van, it appears that Carlo's wound couldn't have been that serious if he is already up and around. I'm scared though that Carlo could be out for revenge. It isn't inconceivable that he was the one that threw the rocks or instigated throwing the rocks into David's apartment. It sounds like something he would do. Mean and petty.

The nightly news bulletins didn't help settle my nerves either. Tampa International Airport was briefly shut down when a flight in-bound from Memphis (Tennessee, not Egypt) had a mid-air heart attack victim go zombie on them. Thankfully the airlines learned their lessons from all of the early European incidences. Every flight now has an onboard security team that has federally-granted immunity to forcefully subdue any passenger behaving disruptively. They've also been mandated to sanitize any in-flight deaths using this tool that looks like a cattle prod with a compressed air bullet thingy on the end of it. Its apparently safer than using a gun while the plane is pressurized. It doesn't make much of a mess either so the next of kin can still have an open casket memorial service should they so desire.

Speaking of funerals and burials, I guess its worth a mention that funerary staff have been deputized to legally sanitize all corpses or apparent corpses. They use this tool that's like a sonic egg scrambler. It drills through the cadaver's skull and then basically liquefies the brain using sonic waves; so much for zombies crawling out of graves.

Besides, the onset for NRS appears to be almost instantaneous for most cases. There have been a few delayed cases reported, but they are usually the result of an obvious bite or scratch and the disease spreads to the whole body within hours. The problem remains that transmission, though 100% deadly, doesn't have a 100% attack rate; and no one is sure who or why they are susceptible to infection.

NRS is still popping up all around the world, sometimes in clusters and sometimes in isolated cases. No country is immune. And without the ability to really study the disease because of its quick rate of deterioration, no one is really sure how to come up with a vaccine yet.

Here in the USA we are taking collateral damage from all of the NRS-related complications. The worst outside of the quarantined cities thus far is the fire in Chicago that started yesterday. A relatively minor fire that started along the waterfront has spread for miles. A power outage in the city caused alarms to fire stations to be delayed. Even when the firemen arrived and started to battle the blaze, low water pressure has pretty much precluded the use of hoses. They've created several fire breaks by knocking down buildings in the fire's path but that hasn't been completely positive. Heavy winds are also making things hard to manage. There is no telling how far the fire will spread at this point but people are running in all directions trying to evacuate from it's path.

Civil unrest is again on the rise. The rioting around the CDC in Atlanta has reached epic proportions. I'm worried about rioting starting up again here in Tampa. I hate Scott being out when folks are unhinged. People are really nuts and the mainstream media isn't helping. Reporters are wringing all of the emotional distress and financial turmoil out of any given story as they can. And people play right into their hands. If some of those media folks aren't careful the crowds will turn on them and tear them apart.

Lots of scary international unrest as well. In particular Beijing and Hong Kong have been in the news for their government's use of extreme force to retake those cities from rioters' control.

There were also pictures of the starving children of Sydney, Australia plastered on every network, cable and local. We haven't had any of that here in the USA, at least not on such a large scale; however, if the convoys don't start moving a little faster a lot of unprepared people are going to hit the streets looking for food for themselves and their children. Look at what happened in NYC.

My brother is thinking about applying for a convoy job. The Feed Depot where he just started working is trying to get something set up to haul raw grain to some of the larger cities for distribution, either as animal feed or for commodity distribution. Even if it only brings pennies for the bushel it is still better than what the farmers will get letting stuff rot in the silos. Brother did promise that he will bring us a couple of more barrels if he can pick up a delivery job out this way. I'll have to grind the grain myself but I have both an electric and manual grinder to do this with. I just hope the gears are up to grinding corn.

I didn't feel like cocoa for our bedtime drink so I fixed everyone licuados. A banana licuado is more of a Mexican beverage than a Polynesian one but it was the easiest for me to make. You mix milk and a fruit – in this case mashed bananas from my baby food supplies – with a little vanilla and honey to taste. You can also add ice and blend to make it slushy, but we just had ours at room temperature.

Today was the last day of the international food faire. Some of the dishes were a little bit more work than I had anticipated. Some dishes went over very well and some only had a lukewarm reception, namely those Twisted Devils, but at least the menu wasn't boring and no one suffered from food fatigue. All-in-all it was an experiment that worked. It didn't adversely impact the food storage supplies and was a morale booster. I'll be back to the normal grind for at least the next week or so. I'll be really happy when my garden starts coming in. I'm already getting tired of nothing but canned and dried foods.


	23. Day Twenty-Two

**Day Twenty-Two**

We were woken at 3:30 am by a tenant calling because she was scared. Apparently there was some fighting in the street in that area. She wanted Scott to come right then and add another lock to her doors and demanded that he board up her windows for her. Besides the fact that the curfew prevented us from doing anything for her at that time of night, there was no way I was going to have my husband flitting around at her beck and call. I felt badly for her but she was beyond reason and her expectations are all out of whack. But even after we tried to explain to her three times the reality of what was going on, she kept calling back over and over hysterical. We finally stopped answering the phone but that didn't stop her. She put her phone on automatic re-dial and I've been dealing with it off and on all day long. The thing is, this is the same chick that thinks Carlo is the best thing since sliced bread and who cussed Scott after she had heard through the grapevine that Scott had shot him.

There wasn't any sleeping after the phone calls woke Johnnie at 4:15 or so. Scott was royally PO'd at that point and just hit the shower. I hit the kitchen to try and throw some food at the problem and make him feel better. Granny used to tell me that there wasn't anything wrong with a man that a cast iron skillet couldn't fix, she wasn't far from the truth. Actually what she said was, "Honey, there ain't a thang wrong with a man that a cast iron skillet cain't fix ... a cast iron skillet and good aim that is." I've never had to use the "good aim" part but the skillet has gotten me out of more than a few fixes over the years.

Breakfast: Fruit-filled Muffins are a old tried-and-true and really easy breakfast that I fix quite often. The ingredients are very basic and you can vary the flavor as infinitely as the flavors of jams or preserves varieties in the cupboard. I made them in these little gem pans that I have so it seems like I had made more muffins than I actually did. Made them easier to divide up too. I also made Scott and James a small omelet out of some powdered eggs and some real bacon bits. Man cannot live by muffins alone, at least working men can't.

I packed lunch for Scott and David and did some extra laundry, including all the bedding and towels, while I waited for Scott to get ready and leave. He had a list as long as my arm of work orders he needed to get to. Personally I'm thinking that it is going to soon get to the point where he isn't going to be able to do business as usual. Even though the kids around town are supposed to be back in school, we've had a lot of repairs related to kids. Broken refrigerator bars, broken towel bars, broken fans and light covers, broken fencing; heck, Scott and David even had to replace some shingles yesterday because kids had climbed up on a roof and were playing around up there. We are lucky we inventory stuff for minor repairs, but with rationing getting tighter I'm not sure how long our supplies will last at the rate we are using them.

The dryer couldn't keep up with the amount of washing I was doing so I started hanging out the sheets and spreads on my clothes line at first light. I just feel pressure to try and get ahead of some of my cleaning chores. I just have the heebies and have had them all day today for some reason. I did see my neighbor out near the canal. It looked like he might have been jigging for frogs but I couldn't tell from the angle I was at. I hope Mabel is OK.

Scott caved and said he would use some of the supplies he is picking up today to close in the other side of the pantry for me so James and I haven't done any more work to finish it off in there. I know that is more work for Scott (and maybe David too if he helps) but I just don't feel like I have any choice. I can't find any more good hiding places around the house. I wish we had a basement but being in Florida that is definitely out. So is using the attic for anything as it gets too hot up there not to mention possible infestation by bugs or rodents.

I guess the bottom line is that I just have this feeling of impending doom for some reason. Nothing in particular but I feel like the dumb blonde in the scary movie that goes waltzing up to the decrepit mansion. You scream at her to not go knocking on that door, but she is oblivious. Makes you want to dope slap the actress. But I'm not oblivious and all of my instincts are telling me that "something wicked this way comes." Gack. I sound like an old hen … "The sky is falling, the sky is falling." I don't know what it is but it is creeping me the heck out. Luckily Scott is pretty patient and understanding. I'm driving him nuts, but at least he knows I'm not doing it on purpose.

I have to be careful though 'cause I think I'm infecting James and to some extent Rose as well. I've watched them watching me and I've caught them scanning some of the other houses in the neighborhood like they are trying to figure out why I'm feeling like I feel. James has even made this map of the neighborhood and is making notes of the cars that are supposed to be at each house and what he knows of the people each household. I don't know, maybe we are simply feeding off of each other. After all we have been cooped up together for over three weeks now. Maybe we are suffering the proverbial bought of cabin fever.

For most of the morning I cleaned and reorganized but towards lunchtime I told James I really did need to do some work in the front yard. This time he didn't give me any grief. Apparently he had talked to Scott and was told that if I worked in the front yard to go ahead and mow it. The rain and heat has the grass growing like crazy and we weren't the only home with a yard that needed to be mowed. Yesterday I heard the tractor and bush hog in the orange grove and no one said anything. We were able to get the front yard mowed with no confrontations but it was an eerie feeling. I know there were other people in their homes around us, although most of the people on our block still appear to have their day jobs, but it was still awful quiet. The lawnmower seemed too loud.

Lunch: The girls fixed Open-faced hot roast beef sandwiches for everyone. There is no way that this meal would ever make it into a book on losing weight. First Rose made a plate full of cat-head biscuits – so named in the Deep South because they are unusually large sized biscuits. While she did that Sarah and Bekah made a batch of mashed potatoes from instant potato flakes using powdered milk and powdered margarine. Then they opened and heated up a couple cans of sliced beef in gravy. The biscuits were split and opened on each person's plate and a good-sized portion of mashed potatoes was heaped on each of the biscuit halves. Lastly, the hot beef and gravy was spooned over the mashed potatoes. It looked like a heaping pile of mess on the plate, but it is a frequent comfort food around our house and only takes minimal work to prepare. Being up so early, by the time noon rolled around we were all just about starving.

After lunch I gathered up all of the clippings and stuff from the front yard and tossed them into the compost bins I have going. Another project I'd liked to have completed sooner is building one or two more compost piles. With lumber and fencing being so dear now though, unless Scott runs across any wooden pallets at Home Depot I'm not sure what we would use. Scott managed to bring me a couple of pallets of dirt and mulch but they won't last forever and we may not have any extra money for that sort of thing in the future. The compost will help revitalize the garden beds and containers of dirt. Assuming I can find anything to actually compost. I used to get extra greenery from the canal edge but that's out … for now. I'll do what I have to if I get desperate, but I'm not there yet.

For the rest of the afternoon I did some "school" with Johnnie. I love him like the dickens but boy howdy does it take all of my energy and concentration to keep him from outwitting me. He's a boundary-tester and requires a lot of consistency to keep him from bending the rules as often as possible. Another wish I wish for is a swing set. I know it would take up space we don't have but it would give him a way to work off his energy. Being inside a closed up house all day long isn't healthy for any of us, particularly an active preschooler. As it is I've caught him doing back flips off of his bunk bed more than once this passed week. We just can't afford a doctor at this point – financially or for all sorts of other reasons.

Dinner: I made Black Beans and Yellow rice. I stockpiled cases of pre-seasoned black beans and packages of Vigo yellow rice when I could. Scott grew up here in Tampa and all of his grandparents were immigrants. Hispanic cuisine is something that I had to learn to cook very quickly. To keep things from being so expensive and time consuming I finally smartened up and canned up my own ethnic foods like Picodillo, Ropa Vieja, and Garbanzo Bean Soup. I also canned pork loin with sour orange marinade and learned to make a lot of other traditional dishes using prep foods. Maybe not like his Momma fixed it, but I haven't heard any complaints in over 20 years so I'm not gonna sweat the small stuff. For dessert I made Impossibly Easy Cherry Pie, another Bisquick recipe. I set all the leftovers aside for Scott to take for his and David's lunch tomorrow.

Everyone was in the mood for chocolate so I made a pot of Fruity Hot Cocoa (Cherry-flavored). The cherry flavor came from unsweetened drink mix and didn't clash with the pie everyone had for dessert. We sat around only half way listening to the news as we were all pretty well exhausted. Scott told me about his day and I told him about mine. We worked on our list of things we need and the list of things we wanted as well as some of our project ideas but we didn't last long.

The news was full of the same old stuff. Nothing new on any front except that they think they may have some of the Chicago fire contained. Lights have been seen at night in NYC so there are obviously people still there trying to survive in some way. There is still no new information on what caused the explosions in Los Angeles. San Francisco and Oakland continue to be hot spots but Dallas/Ft. Worth may get to come off of the quarantine list if they continue wracking up the number of "sanitized" zombies. I think everyone has just about given up on calling them NRS victims now.

I couldn't even stand to listen to any international news and practically had to carry Scott to bed, no easy feet considering I'm 5' 2" on a good day. He leaned on me so heavily that I know he was unaware of how much his fatigue was showing. I'm worried for him. He doesn't talk much about what he sees beyond the daily grind of the apartment management but I know he is worried and trying to hide it from me … but sometimes his eyes give him away.


	24. Day Twenty-Three

**Day Twenty-Three**

Good thing that Scott and I invested in that solar charger for our laptop batteries or I wouldn't be typing this; I'd be stuck writing everything down by hand. We woke this morning to find that the power had gone off at some point during the night. Luckily our cell phones are still working – sort of as there are a lot of black out areas in town – so we were able to keep touch off and on during the day. This day went from bad to worse in short order.

To keep from going into a panic I tried to act like the power outage wasn't anything unexpected. I put the kids to getting dressed and doing their early chores like putting the plants outside. I added filling up five gallon buckets from the pool to put into the bathroom for the toilets and filling up the camping shower bags from the rain barrel so that those that needed showers could have them. This gave Scott time to get the solar radio out and turn it on to see if we could pick up any local news. While he fiddled with that I got breakfast going.

Breakfast: It was Day 9 for the bread starter and I let Johnnie squish up the mix while I pulled out the Coleman oven and mixed up some biscuits. Biscuits with sausage gravy were about all I could come up with on such short notice but the smell alone made everyone feel better. I only ran the oven long enough to cook the biscuits and heat water; I need to save all the propane I can. While the biscuits were baking I duct taped the refrigerator and freezer shut so no one accidentally forgets and keeps opening it to see if the ice has melted yet. The sausage gravy came from a can, but hey, it wasn't bad at all even if Momma woulda had a fit had she seen me do it. Cans of slightly watered down juice were the morning's beverage. Some might think that watering down juice is a bad idea, but full strength juice can play havoc with a digestive track unused to it. Better to be safe than sorry, especially if we are going to have to lug water for the toilets for any length of time.

Thank goodness I have been going through all of our equipment and had it ready and easy to find. News broadcasters on the radio were giving preliminary reports issued by the power company that a major piece of equipment at the local plant had malfunctioned. Repair parts were available, but due to shortages in plant staff, the repairs will take longer than normal. All citizens within the station's broadcast area were warned they would need to endure a power outage lasting approximately a week. Future news reports would keep everyone apprised of the progress. Frankly I just hope that equipment failure is all that it is. I can too easily imagine what caused the staff shortage.

I wasn't thrilled with Scott leaving to go to work but didn't have much choice as he and David had been in the middle of replacing a main waste line when they had to close up shop to meet curfew. As he headed off to pick up David and his supplies at Home Depot I got in motion to see what all I could do to make our lives easier for however long the power remains out.

The kids had already hung out our black shower bags. Hanging in the August sun all day will give us plenty of hot water for washing and such. I also started a gallon of solar tea. When I went out to set the jug on our back stoop I heard a lot of yelling – loud and angry – coming from a few different houses. There was also some crying. Looks like bad just got worse for some of our neighbors.

It was already warm and muggy despite the early hour. I knew it would get worse before it got better. We have portable fans that are solar powered but I didn't want to waste them since we would need them for tonight if the power didn't come back on. I just had the kids keep a wet washrag handy so that they could use evaporation to keep themselves cool. I also had those little battery operated fan/spritz bottles. The kids learned real fast not to waste the batteries (rechargeable) or they wouldn't have any "fan."

I was making some notes on some preliminary ideas for meals over the next couple of days when Scott called me the first time. David got jumped after Scott dropped him off yesterday and took a pretty good beating. Nothing that warrants a trip to the emergency room but he's gonna be sore and multicolored for a couple of days. His apartment is trashed. David is mobile so they packed up his stuff and stuck it in Scott's van – there wasn't all that much apparently that didn't get trashed – and went ahead and tried to get some work done. At that time no one was sure where David was going to spend the night.

Johnnie and Sarah both were starting to get irritable from the heat so I had the older three help me to set up a little wading pool on the lanai and fill it with water from the pool. I told them no splashing or there would be consequences and surprisingly they both obeyed me with only one or two minor exceptions. Guess they were too hot to risk being banished back into the house.

Lunch: The noon hour crept up on me quicker than I had expected. I fixed Zesty Bean Salad over instant rice. You can eat the salad by itself as a side dish but it is also good with rice to make it a main dish. I dished out everything onto paper plates and pulled a package of Melba toast out to use for a bread. The toast also helped to rake up even the last grain of rice. I had about a gallon of bleach water to use for washing the silverware and cups. I set it outside in the direct sun to keep it warm so that it could also be used to clean the silverware at dinner.

After lunch, I took a moment to have a private adjustment reaction. In layman's terms that means I went out to the shed and cried a few tears where the kids couldn't see me. Afterwards I took stock of our situation and while it is difficult, its far from being catastrophic. There isn't anything left to spoil in the refrigerator or freezer but I will keep them sealed to try and save the ice for as long as possible. Adding up all of our potable water sources yields several weeks worth of drinking and cooking water so long as we don't get sloppy. The pool water will work for the toilets for a good long while and even for showers. We've been getting a regular afternoon shower every day for a while and I watched James set up the water catchment barrels to our downspouts from the roof gutters. I also figured that I could re-use liquids from canned goods. Veggie water I'd use for regular cooking and fruit syrups or juices I would save for drinking or baking.

Most importantly though I set up the water filter system that I made using filters I bought on the internet and a couple of food grade buckets. It's a drip system similar to the big expensive Berkey system that I could never afford. It sure would have been nice to have gotten one of those big stainless steel versions, but hey, what we built may not be pretty but it works just as well and meets our needs.

I am so glad that I was able to get all of our laundry done, including the bedding and all of the towels. It might be a while until I get another big load of laundry done automatically. I have a set up planned for having to do my laundry by hand but that's not going to be any fun at all. I have a metal horse trough that I can set up over a fire and I'll boil the clothes clean. I even have a couple of big wooden paddles my dad made to dip the stuff in and out of the hot water. I'll avoid going "old school" as long as I can though. I'll just rinse out socks and underwear for as long as I can stand it. We'll hang out everything else to air it out and reuse it as long as it isn't gross. Good thing I stocked lots (and lots and lots) of deodorant.

Food isn't going to be a problem for a while yet either. How to cook that food is an issue. Our propane supplies will last a good while yet but only if we are careful. I also have charcoal and a wood pile (that just this afternoon got moved to a more secure location near the house) and several other solid fuel options. Nothing extravagant, but with careful rationing, we are set for a while anyway.

The only free energy source available to us is solar power. We've got two solar panels and several deep cell batteries. I also have a simple solar oven we bought off the internet and some solar lanterns. The other thing we have are plans we printed off of /plans/ and the materials for some of these contraptions; materials like a reflective car sunshade, panes of glass, two tires not on rims, dark cooking pans. Even if things get so bad that we go through all of our propane I can probably do some cooking using solar power, just not on cloudy days. I hope what we have is enough to get us through. I know hope isn't a plan, but it makes me feel better.

Speaking of hopes and plans, Scott called me several times through out the day to keep me up to date about what was going on. We both agreed that we couldn't allow David to go homeless, especially since it looks like he was attacked just because he is working for Scott. David said that he recognized two of the three guys who attacked him as being friends of Carlo's. That cinched it for me. I told Scott to bring David to our house even if he if was kicking and screaming. I'd gotten my anger pretty much under control and put it away but the attack on David just brought it all back out. I'm just plain spitting mad. I sat down and explained things to the kids and every one of them wanted Scott to bring him home to us. Seems David made a place for himself without any of us realizing it, including David. Scott says David is very embarrassed but kind of without any other option at this point.

When Scott finally pulled in I couldn't believe my eyes. David has a badly split lip, a loose tooth, and two black eyes and that's just from the neck up. His nose is swollen too but not bad so I don't think his nose is actually broken. But apparently David is street tough and got in quite a few licks of his own. The knuckles on both of his hands are abraded and swollen. He says he fought dirtier fighters growing up on the mean streets of West Tampa and keeps a knife in his boot top in case he starts to feel like he is going down. The guys were mostly drunk so they weren't overly coordinated; if they had been, David said he would have been in worse trouble. But they ran when David pulled the knife. I'm just glad, drunk or not, that those guys didn't have guns. That would have put a totally different face on things.

Dinner: Dinner wasn't anything special and David needed something soft to eat. Ramen noodles topped with canned beef stew I doctored with some raisins and capers was what I put on the picnic table outside. It was too dark to eat inside unless we opened the shutters and that was too much like work after a long day. Especially after moving the plants yet again.

While we sat discussing the new living arrangements – David was still hesitant about accepting our invitation for more than a night or two – we had the news going in the background. Mostly it was about the power outage and what people could do to help themselves because there were no plans for the local, state, or federal government to step in at this point. The phrase "you're on your own" has never been more true.

I hope we can get David to agree to stay. It would give us another adult we could count on and at the rate things are deteriorating that isn't a bad thing. Yes, I'll need to rework some of food my storage plans but that's doable. At this stage adding one more mouth to feed isn't going to break the bank. I'm going to give him some time to heal before I start really trying to persuade him though. I want him to stay because he feels that it is a good arrangement, not because he feels beholden or trapped. That wouldn't be a good place to start any kind of relationship.

The other thing we discussed over dinner was how to use our resources as wisely as possible. Overall, every meal must be more fuel-efficient. Starting tomorrow the Coleman stove will be used for breakfast. For lunch I'll use a small stick or charcoal fire for heating soups and/or fry breads. If an outdoor fire isn't an option because of the weather or some other reason, I'll use Sterno, Eco-Fuel, or solid fuel tabs on the lanai. And when possible I'll use solar cooking for dinner.

My goal will still be to provide 2000 kcal/day. Before the power went out I used bread as a filler at meal times. With limited options now that the power is off I'll need to use ingredients that are more fuel-economical to fix; rice and pastas will be my first choice for a while. Both of these work well in a solar cooker as well.

We were pretty well talked out by the time all of that was discussed and I could tell that David was hurting even if he wasn't complaining. He finally let me doctor him up and he even slept on the bunk in Johnnie's bedroom after the girls cleaned it up. Johnnie didn't know quite what to make of the guy sleeping in his room, but let it pass without creating a fuss after we moved his box of toys near his "new" bed. Scott and I are going to have to escape to the shed to have any alone time but what the heck, we'll just play newlyweds and take our pleasures where we can.

In addition to three extra strength Tylenol (which is all he would take), I fixed David a mug of Warm Maple Milk. In fact I fixed it for everyone as we all definitely need a little bit of a sleep aid tonight. The sweet warm milk is relaxing.

Scott wants to stay home tomorrow. He knows David needs recovery and healing time and this way he and James can get started on the other false wall in the pantry. No telling what is going to go down in town with the power off. Gas will certainly be hard to get until there is electricity at the gas stations although by law gas stations are supposed to have generators here in Florida because of the hurricanes. But "supposed to" and reality aren't always the same thing.

Here's hoping tomorrow's calamities don't overwhelm us.


	25. Day Twenty-Four

**Day Twenty-Four**

Sure enough the utilities are still down. Sleeping without the AC last night was miserable even with those little fans going. They gave out just as soon as I got good and asleep so of course I woke back up. The kids were restless all last night as well. I'm a very light sleeper and every time the kids rustled their bedding my eyes would pop open. My eyelids felt like sandpaper all day.

And our bedroom … my gracious … it smelled like a locker room for a couple of hours until I thought to have everyone take their sheets outside and air them out. At least I don't have to worry about everyone's mattresses getting sour. I use those plastic mattress protectors. And Febreeze fabric freshener is my new bestest friend. I can't imagine what things are going to smell like in this house if we can't air it out soon. The closer to lunch it got the worse the heat became. In the rooms where we were working we wound up having to open the windows; but, we left the shutters closed. I've gotten too secure having the shutters closed and locked. I do miss daylight coming into the rooms, but I like my safety better. If I want daylight I can step onto the lanai or into the backyard.

Since Scott had already planned on staying home today I had planned to go at a slower pace than usual. Or at least that is what I had hoped. Didn't actually turn out that way, but it was a nice thought just the same. No electricity = more work, not less.

Everyone was happy to use the shower bags this morning, even though there was little in the way of privacy. We are going to have to build an outdoor shower facility and James plans on doing that tomorrow. I left Scott discussing today's itinerary with James and David. While the girls took their turns taking shows, washing up, and doing morning chores I finished adding the final ingredients to the Amish Bread starter (Day 10).

Breakfast: For breakfast I made Amish Muffins (this used one cup of the starter leaving me three cups to use at some later point). I made the muffins in the Coleman Oven. It was already too hot to cook indoors so I set it up on the propane grill on the lanai. The oven isn't very big so it can be a challenge to get enough of anything baked in one shot, but it can be done with a little ingenuity. I used paper liners in the muffin tins and was very careful as I filled them so that clean up was minimal. And since everyone ate outside I didn't bother with plates, whether paper or otherwise. The few crumbs we made were simply swept outside.

Trash is going to be a problem sooner rather than later. I guess I forgot to mention it, but the garbage didn't run last week. I've got a whole garbage bin set aside just for cans and it is filling fast. Last week I was able to wash them off and toss them and not have to worry too much about animals getting into them. But this week I'll have to be more careful with our water storage. I also have a whole bag of paper trash to deal with. I have started separating paper trash into two piles – paper with food particles and paper without food particles. The paper with food particles I'll need to bury or burn. The paper without food particles I will shred and toss in the compost pile. Its not a perfect solution but it's the best we can come up with for now.

After breakfast, I pulled out the solar oven and threw a quick casserole together and put it into my black speckle ware roaster pan with the lid. I placed the roaster inside a cooking bag (similar to those used for cooking turkeys, etc.) and sealed it. The bag with the roaster pan inside was placed into the solar panel cooker. The panel cooker was then adjusted and watched though out the day to make sure it continued to face the sun directly and didn't get covered in shade. I also set up a homemade water pasteurizer to heating up water for dishes.

Scott's first task of the day was to show David and James how to set up our solar panels. First they mounted them on a tilted, rolling frame we had built from an old bed frame. The panels were then wired to a controller. The controller can then be wired to the deep cell batteries. Once the batteries are charged you can either directly feed into a DC system or you can hook them to an inverter so that you can use AC system gizmos.

We've never successfully run our well pump this way but we are able to run small items like a battery charger, smaller wattage lamps, and a few other useful gadgets. Scott is anxious to keep his cordless tools charged. The four deep cell batteries we now have will give us some storage capacity; we just need to be reasonable with our expectations.

No sooner had I finished setting the solar cooker going than I had to refill the solar shower bags, put a laptop battery into its charging system, take care of watering my plants by hand (what a pain), and do some general cleaning and prepping. I constantly had to avoid the guys who seemed to be all over the place. They were trying to measure lumber, running wires, and trying to figure out how to secure the solar panels to keep people from throwing rocks at them and breaking them. David suggested reworking a section of the enclosed walkway. If they can figure out a way to convert one section into a kind of garage door then the panels could be wheeled in and out of there each night. Some conduit could be run underground that would house the wires which would mean the controller, inventer, and batteries could be housed securely out of the elements all of the time. At that point it didn't surprise me to learn that David has been attempting to earn his degree in engineering.

Lunch: I was very tired and sweaty by the time I needed to prepare lunch. I knew it was hot but all I was up to making was some kind of soup. I made Creamy Tomato Bacon Soup with cheese crackers. I also pulled out a can of spray cheese for those that wanted it. Scott likes cheese with his tomato soup. I heated the soup in a pot placed over a small stick fire that I built in a depression in the ground. After I got the fire going, I set a grate was over it. The soup pot was set on the grate. The hole was small so it funneled all of the heat from the small fire up to the soup pot. The hole was almost too small and there nearly wasn't enough oxygen to keep the fire going. Lesson learned which led me to think of another project for the kids to do. I'd like to build a cooking pit and line it with some old Georgia bricks that we have. I've started to carry a memo pad around in my pocket just so I can write everything down as it comes to me. Otherwise I get irritated when I know I thought of something good but can't remember what the heck it was I thought of. It didn't take long for the soup to heat through and after it was removed; my camp coffeepot filled with water was placed on the grate to catch the last bit of heat.

The fire actually gave off enough heat to make the water quite hot, though it never really boiled. Some of the very hot water was poured into a dish pan so that the soup mugs from lunch could be washed. The rest was poured into coffee carafe so it could maintain its heat. It came in real handy tonight.

After lunch we were all so hot that we just lay around on the pool deck with our feet in the water. I guess we must have done this for an hour just trying to cool off. We didn't even move when a rain shower moved through soaking us to the skin. Johnnie and Bekah actually sat in the wading pool on the lanai up to their waist. After we finally got up and started moving we all dried quickly as we were all wearing lightweight clothing to beat the heat.

There are some palmettos on the far side of the orange grove and Scott let James go with David to cut some for me. I wasn't thrilled with James getting out from under my eye but the boy is nearly 16 and I have to let him grow up or I'll alienate him. And I guess going with David made him feel some better. What James didn't know was that Scott had palmed off one of the pistols to David before they jumped the fence. That little maneuver made me feel better.

The reason for the boys going to get me the palmettos was that I was going to make fans. Out of all the stuff that I've bought over the years it is simply beyond me how I could have skipped buying hand fans. I mean, how silly could I have been?! Once the boys brought them back I skinned the saws off of the sticks and trimmed the fronds until a nice, stiff "fan" was all that remained. I made enough for everyone to have their own and a couple of extra besides. Johnnie made a game of going around to each of us and fanning us a couple of times and then expecting us to fan him for twice as long.

It continues to stay light until nearly 8:30 pm these days but I didn't want to have to waste the lanterns unless we had to. I fixed us an early – for us anyway – dinner and we again ate outside on the lanai. This kept the mosquitoes off of us and out of the house.

Dinner: The Quick Casserole Supper came out of the solar cooker without too much trouble. I was a little worried about dinner so I had pulled out a jar of peanut butter and some pretzels just in case the casserole flopped. It didn't, thank goodness. The casserole consisted of canned chili (minus beans), canned pinto beans, canned tamales, and shredded Mexican processed cheese. Not the greatest, but certainly beat a cold supper hands down.

The bowls from dinner were cleaned using the water that had been heating most of the day in the water pasteurizer. It was warm enough to wash dishes with, but to be on the safe side I added a capful of bleach to the rinse water. Since everyone scraped the last bit they could out of their bowls, nothing required a hard scrub except the roasting pan and only where the cheese had gotten sticky.

While James took his turn on dish duty, I helped Scott and David bring in all the equipment that they had out during the day as well as move the plant containers back inside. I'm going to have to be careful because I think some of my plants might be getting confused because they aren't getting as much daylight as they normally would this time of year. That probably means that they need to go out earlier and come in later. Hopefully I can make the change without too much trouble.

Finally we could all just sit and relax. Yeah, it was still hot … still is hot as I sit here writing this entry … but not as bad as it was around lunch time. The news from around town was disturbing. They are finally releasing a few more of the details from the UCH fire and zombie escape. Scott surmised correctly. They were able to follow the zombie's path because apparently there had been at least two other attacks. They think that they sanitized all of the attack victims that were infected but they have issued public warnings because two household members from one of the homes are still unaccounted for. Now that just gives me the creeps, not to mention I would have liked to have known this before David and James took off into the bushes in the orange grove. I'm appreciating our metal fence and steel shutters more and more.

I used the hot water I had put into the carafe to make Orange Hot Chocolate. The hot water in the thermos carafe remained plenty warm and I'll continue keeping water warm this way from now on.

The rest of the evening's news was no better. There was a sad murder/suicide story where a man, obsessed with worry that his family was going to turn into zombies, killed his wife and three children before turning the gun on himself. The problem was he was too inept and didn't destroy the brain. All five of them were reanimated by NRS and killed the man's parents when they dropped by to bring a bag of groceries. The zombies then terrorized the neighborhood for nearly an hour until they could be sanitized by a NRSC Deputy. As self-fulfilling prophecies go, that was a doozy. I just pray there aren't any copycat killings like this.

Local charities have now distributed over 90% of their stock with no expectations of resupply any time soon. Food warehouses and major distribution points have hired professional mercenaries to guard their locations. Even local grocery stores now have armed security details.

No riots have broken out in our area but hostilities are close to the surface. Looting has been officially marked as a Federal offense, a matter of Homeland Security, and is punishable by instant execution if the looter is caught in the act by any deputized authority (from Federal troops to local law enforcement to deputized private citizens). I understand the why of this but it is still a frightening development that could easily be abused.

The only announcement concerning the power outage is that repairs are proceeding. Wow. Nice to know. A few more details would have been welcome.

The rioters in Atlanta broke through the military barricade around the CDC. The breach was quickly sealed, but not without some serious bloodshed.

The media is reporting a quiet exit from DC by most members of Congress and their staffs. Some are returning to their home states and some, along with their families, have simply disappeared from the radar all together. The President, in conjunction with Homeland Security and the NRSC, now operates from an undisclosed location. This cannot be a healthy development either.

The New England Quarantine Zone was expanded again. There is also now a Northwest Quarantine Zone covering much of Oregon and parts of Washington State and overlapping some of the Greater California Quarantine Zone.

An extreme tactical response by members of the Texas National Guard has tipped the balance in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area showing that swift and decisive action can reduce NRS infections enough that whole cities can be retaken. The model is being studied for implementation in the quarantine zones.

They are trying the strong tractical response in Miami as well. Unfortunately the large number of Caribbeans in the area who practice a religion that both fears and respects black magic is making it difficult to completely retake some portions of the city. Some of the black magic priests of this religion are using the zombies, or threat of zombiehood, to accumulate political power and spiritual control. I understand people have a right to practice their personal belief system, but that is steering off too much into craziness for me. Especially as several times a so-called "controlled" zombies break free and basically infect every one at a given religious ceremony. This has meant that sometimes entire blocks of neighborhoods have to be quarantined and sanitized within hours. Not easy as quarantines require a special judicial writ. Sad, and all because of a few megalomaniacs.

International news was just as lousy but I don't feel like citing it chapter and verse. Suffice it to say that people no long say Paris "is." They now say Paris "was."

I'm losing my light so I'll save my battery and end things here, attempting to close on a more positive note. For all the bad news, personally we are doing OK. David's wounds are healing and Scott's are no longer visible at all. The kids are healthy and at least appear to be adjusting to the new norm that they find themselves living. And David hasn't said word one about leaving. We have plenty of food, water, and a modest amount of power. We've still got nearly two full drums of fuel as well as another 25 gallons in gas cans. Our house is secure. There is money in the bank. And, we haven't had a fight with a neighbor for a few days. The way things are headed, that makes us rich as Midas.


	26. Day Twenty-Five

**Day Twenty-Five**

Day three of the power outage. This sucks. It wouldn't be so bad if this had happened in October or November but in August it is like a freaking sauna. Even the pool water feels like warm soup. No matter where you go you can't escape. Its all too easy to lose your temper in this heat and humidity.

Everyone scrambled to be first in the shower this morning. Chores were done in record time so they could get in line. Even the plants went out faster than ever before. I could have used a shower first thing this morning myself but I needed to get breakfast going first.

I knew even before the radio was turned on that things must have deteriorated overnight. Three humvees per hour was as often as they had patrolled during the last round of rioting in this area; this morning I counted four. There had been another NRS zombie incident near Ybor City. This one was pretty bad from the sound of things. It had sparked some additional violence between several families which then sparked some racial incidences as people started taking sides in the original argument. It didn't take long before a full blown riot developed. The violence is now spreading through out the county as people give vent to their pent up fear and anger.

Scott had been on the fence about going out, waiting to see how David felt. But, with things the way they are everyone unanimously voted for them to stay home. It's not like they don't have work they can do around here and several things that happened today made me even more glad to have them close.

Breakfast: I made Bacon and cheese breakfast bread by mixing together Garlic and Cheese Bisquick mix and some real bacon bits. It's a family favorite. Because the pan was sprayed with nonstick cooking spray, clean up is easy with some sudsy water and a dip in rinse water that has been doctored with bleach. We continued to eat outside as it is marginally cooler and adds to the easy clean up aspect that I am trying to maintain.

After breakfast, I set dinner to cook in the solar oven since it worked so well yesterday. I was anxious to see if it worked as well with pasta. I set some water to heat in the water pasteurizer as well.

While I was cleaning up I had a "being watched" feeling right before Bekah asked why the boy was on that roof looking at us. It was a bit of a non sequitur and I had to look where she was pointing before I understood what she was asking. Sure enough on the roof of the two-story house to the rear of us, there was a teenage boy laying down watching what I was doing. When he noticed I had seen him all he did was shoot me a bird and raise a pair of binoculars to his eyes. I sent Bekah in to tell Scott to come here and bring David and James with him. Scott must have been concerned because all three of the guys were carrying a rifle. When they stepped outside the boy got the point and shrugged then started nonchalantly watching another house. Yeah, that freaked me a bit. It also hacked me off. You can't even feel safe in your own yard these days because someone is always in your business.

That boy stayed on that roof for another hour or so before being replaced by a teenage girl. I noticed that during the hottest part of the day no one was on the roof but towards the end of the day a man climbed on to the roof and was the one that stayed up there the longest.

I debated what I could do to get us more privacy and for now all I've been able to come up with was to hang sheets across one end of the lanai to at least block the view of our meals.

No sooner had I finished hanging the sheets and the rest of my morning chores that it became time to fix lunch.

I had James dig me a cooking trench. While he did that I made a large stack of tortillas with a piece of waxed paper between them to keep the dough from sticking together. I also have the girls made up a large batch of doughnut batter using nearly all the remaining bread starter.

Lunch: I made Fiesta Soup with tortilla chips. I set a skillet on the fire grate to heat. I then threw all of the soup ingredients together into a soup pot and set it on the grate to heat through. After the skillet was hot enough and I fried the tortillas until they were crisp, rather than pliable, but not burned.

While everyone ate their soup and chips, I placed a Dutch oven into the coals of the fire. Into the Dutch oven I poured cooking oil. After I finished my lunch the oil had gotten hot and I made drop doughnuts while the others took their turns doing the dishes.

After the doughnuts come out of the hot grease, they are drained and rolled in sugar and then put into paper bags. These, except for three the guys snitched, were tonight's dessert. There wasn't a whole lot of oil left over, but I still saved for tomorrow's use.

After going nonstop since first light, I stopped and had myself the cup of tea I promised myself yesterday. It was nice to be off my feet for a few minutes.

James managed to cobble together a pretty decent shower area inside the pool cage using his younger sisters' hula-hoops, some scrap PVC, and a couple of plastic shower curtains. Nothing fancy, but at least we have some privacy now. I know we could hang the shower bags inside, but its too dark and stuff for that right now. I feel better that the girls can clean up without having to deal with the friendly neighborhood voyeur.

The guys have also managed to finish the second false wall. I'll be more than a little relieved to be able to tuck the rest of the food away that is sitting around the house.

After I brought everyone's sheets in from airing out and remade the beds it was time to get dinner on the table. The guys put away the solar panels and generally cleaned up their work areas and checked to make sure all the locks were still fastened. I had the girls set the table while I got the food.

Dinner: Last meal of the day was Fettuccine of the Sea. The solar oven worked well but it doesn't do pasta as well as it does rice. The pasta was a little chewy but no one complained. We were too hungry after dealing with all of the extra work caused by the power being off and all of our minor construction projects. The doughnuts were a huge success and it took a great deal of will power to save half of them for tomorrow's dessert.

After dinner we hit on a great new dishwashing technique. The black shower bags that we keep filled with water get really hot during the day; almost too hot for a comfortable shower. Scott hung one above the kitchen sink and we now have "hot water on demand" again. Those on dish duty were suitably grateful.

The radio is going and every one is enjoying a cup of French Vanilla Hot Cocoa before making an early night of it. I know just passed dark is a little early…..

OMG! We heard a sharp crack and some breaking glass coming from right outside. Scott and David slowly rolled up the rear door to check to see what it was and someone shot at us! The bullet came through one of the sheets I had up on the lanai and shattered the glass top of my patio table. There's only one place the shot could have come from. Scott and David have decided to slip out the carport and try and see if they plan anything else. I've got to go keep watch.


	27. Day Twenty-Six

**Day Twenty-Six**

I'm exhausted. I was up all night and still haven't been able to rest despite the fact that it is now after 9 pm. Up for over 24 hours and I'm jagging like I've had a six-pack of Jolt Cola. Maybe if I just write everything out as normal I can get rid of some of this terrible tension.

The crack we heard last night was a bullet entering the lanai and shattering the glass top of my patio table. We knew that bullet had to come from some place high because the hole in the screen and sheet was several feet higher than the table top. The only way the same bullet could have done both things was if it was angled down.

I thought Scott was gonna explode but David managed to convince him to remain silent. That surprised the heck out of me. Scott's temper is the really noisy variety and he was already cocked and primed due to the punk on the roof's arrogance. David redirected Scott's outrage into action instead. I wasn't real comfortable with that direction but the testosterone in the air precluded any of the males from listening to the the little wifey at that point.

Scott and David, taking the handguns rather than the rifles, snuck out of the house via the carport and slowly slunk over to the two-story house behind us. The same house we'd felt watching us for several days. James was very unhappy about being left behind until Scott persuaded him that he was needed to hold the fort at the house and "protect the women." Grrrrr. Rose and I would have had something to say about that if we hadn't already been holding our breath waiting for our world to blow up. Having my 15 year old son act as my protector just didn't fit my picture of how things are supposed to work.

The guys were gone long enough for me to start consider going after them, regardless of James' objections, to see if they were in trouble or needed help of some kind. I think that has had to be one of the worst 45 minutes of my entire life up to this point. Remember I said "up to that point" because this day continued to go downhill.

I just managed to keep myself from bursting into tears when I saw them creeping back. I nearly lost my temper too. I hate being scared. I mean I hate it with a passion. Scary movies don't scare me, I enjoy the adrenaline rush and in the end you know the credits are going to eventually scroll across the screen. But I hate real fear, the kind you feel when your family is in danger and you know there is very little you can do about it; the kind that comes with a phone call in the night or watching a parent battle cancer. That's the kind of fear I was facing and it made me mad as hell and I nearly took it out on the guys even though it wasn't really their fault all together. Instead I grabbed them both in a bear hug and kept my mouth shut. Scott gave me a one-armed hug back and kissed the top of my head. David looked stunned; like he was surprised anyone gave a damn about him. Despite everything that was going on, I reminded myself that he wasn't much more than a kid and was long passed due for some motherly attention and vowed that he would get it from here on out. He's certainly earned it ... and then some. That part I'll explain later.

After we got back inside and got the younger three kids settled into our room with a portable DVD player going – yeehaw that the battery stayed charged long enough for them to fall asleep – Scott told us what they'd heard while they were listening at one of the downstairs windows. I've deleted most of the profanity as it was repetitious and unimaginative and only highlighted the ignorance of the people we were dealing with. Besides, the kids might read this someday.

Initially there were five people in what appeared to be the den or family room – two older boys, an older girl, a younger girl, and an adult male. There was an adult female in the kitchen. Scott didn't ever get a glimpse of Mabel. One of the teenage boys was laughing and saying, "You didn't think I could make the shot, but I did. Showed all of you. I did good Dad, didn't I? Just like you said. Showed them whose gonna be boss around here."

The man, apparently the boy's father, said, "Yeah, yeah. You made the shot, now shut the hell up already. I'm trying to hear the news."

A girl who appeared to be a couple of years younger than the other three teenagers, but still just as twisted, asked a little too eagerly, "You think you shot somebody Josiah?"

The Dad snarled, "You're an idiot just like your ma. Did you hear any screaming or crying girl?!"

About that time there was some moaning and banging on a door from upstairs. "Laurel! If you don't shut that ol' bitch up I'm going to beat the crap out of your again. Do what I told you woman. I'm running outta patience here!"

Mabel's daughter Laurel hurried to the foot of the stairs and screamed, "Shut up! Are you stupid?! This is your own fault and you're just making it worse. You shoulda signed those papers like Jack told you. Keep this up and he won't let me feed you anything at all!"

The noise gradually died down upstairs and the kids went back to discussing Junior Asshole's great shot with "Jack" occasionally telling everyone to shut up or he was going to "bust 'em up." They also mentioned a couple of times how they were going to be the "boss of everyone around here" before too much longer.

I was heartsick when they were through telling all they'd seen and heard. Mabel's formerly immaculate house was nasty and smelled. There was trash everywhere. Things obviously hadn't been cleaned in some time. Laurel was apparently married to an abusive ape and poor Mabel … she was obviously the victim of elder abuse and I felt her life was in danger. But, they didn't lack for guns. All the kids were wearing one as well as a knife, even the little girl. Even Laurel and it went really well with her bruises. There were also boxes of ammo, rags covered in gun oil, and some milk crates that we later found out held parts for making pipe bombs.

We decided a direct confrontation was a bad idea. Everyone in that house was a accident waiting to happen. Well, except Mabel but she wouldn't be any help and anything we did might actually put her in more danger than she was already in. Their lack of morals complicated everything. Normal rules of engagement wouldn't apply.

We spent a couple of hours trying to formulate some kind of plan. It was patently obvious that we simply did not have what we needed to handle them on our own. The problem was we weren't likely to get help from any of our other neighbors. Over the years that we've lived around here we've seen the folks change from southern-country-right-to-bear-arms types to OMG-those-nasty-dirty-murdering-guns type of folks. There are still a few of the old neighbors left, but they keep to themselves even more than we do.

Out of sheer meanness David suggested taking some wedges and splints of wood from the leftover lumber pile and make it so no one could exit through the exterior doors. OK, that wouldn't really stop someone from getting out of the house, but it would have caused them some grief until they figured out what was going on. We decided against it only because we didn't think the benefit would be worth the risk.

After too much talking and a little bit of brangling Scott went out about 4 o'clock AM and flagged down one of the military patrols going by. Even after he explained the situation to them they wouldn't do anything because "they had a rendezvous point to make" but they did call it in and promised they'd try to send someone out during the day.

What choice did we have? Dawn wasn't that far off. We decided to keep the kids inside and avoid going outside ourselves as much as possible until we could determine what Jack had planned next.

Scott and David stood watch while James, Rose, and I filled water buckets and brought in the potable water barrels from outside. I put out some of the plants but not all of them. And then we waited. I noticed that the day's weather appeared to be as gloomy as my mood.

Breakfast: Waiting is terrible on an empty stomach. I decided to try and do my part to keep morale up so I made Gingerbread Pancakes. I used a skillet on my Coleman stove and worried about ventilation the entire time but we hadn't had pancakes in a while. As I flipped the first pancake onto a plate, the rain that had been threatening started to fall. James and David jumped up to make sure the water catchment and overflow system was still in place. We are going to need every drop we can get the longer the power is off. Despite everying, I could barely keep up with the demand for more pancakes. It caused me one of the few smiles I've had today, especially when David and James kept giving me the "Oliver" look - "Please ma'am, may I have some more?"

After breakfast, while everyone cleaned their own dishes, I tried calling my parents but couldn't get a voice line out. The internet was down as well. I did manage to text my brother and they are all OK, just shut off and blocked in. Rioting has spread into Gainesville, Jacksonville, Tallahassee, and even into some of the smaller towns that serve as bedroom communities to these cities. I told Brother to stay safe and to be careful who they trust and then lost connection. I couldn't get it back the rest of the day.

Even though the rain hadn't lasted long, the weather nixed the use of the solar cooker for dinner. I was in the midst of coming up with a Plan B when a military green jeep pulled up in our driveway. James had been watching the front yard and quickly called Scott and David to come see. The three of them went out through the carport to see what was up.

Rose took James' place on guard. I tried to hear what was being said while hiding behind the carport door. Scott took everyone to the backyard – by way of the side gate rather than through the house – to show the damage and explain the path of the bullet. I ran back inside to catch the last of this conversation only to have them turn around and go back to the jeep. While I ran back to the carport again, I thought I was pretty sure that I recognized two of the military men from the Keel Outpost. Scott later confirmed this. I'm terrible with names but I rarely forget a face.

I spied them filling out a paper report. They climbed into their jeep and I thought, "Great, a report that'll be buried and forgotten as soon as they leave." Instead they surprised me by pulling down the long driveway of the two-story house. I'll admit my mouth hung open a bit at that. I hadn't thought they would say or do anything even though technically we were the victims of a crime and they were the new law in town.

It was apparently at this point that James mentioned no one was up on the roof like they had been yesterday. I saw him gesture but they were too far away for me to hear anything clearly. A small crowd from the neighborhood had drifted over like sightseers at a car wreck.

The military types asked Scott and everyone else to hang back and allow them to handle things. Made sense at the time. They knocked on the door once … then twice. They called out something but I couldn't hear it. Then just as one of the guys was about to bang on the door one more time, he stopped with his fist half raised. The three guys in camo took several giant steps backwards and went from relaxed and wary to alert and ready with one of them also turning and pointing to the fourth who had stayed with the jeep. Scott later explained the guy at the jeep calmly called "HQ" and reported a "possible situation." There was immediate and nearly panicked dispersal of the crowd. Scott, David, and James remained near the jeep. I could have kicked all three of them, especially Scott for not sending James straight home.

I had had enough and told Rose to lock the doors after me and to not let anyone but the four of us back in before she even had a chance to finish saying, "But, Mom."

I marched right up to where Scott and the boys were … just in time to get deputized. Yes, you read that right. We are now a family that includes four officially deputized citizens. My temper had finally gotten the better of me. Boy did I step in it this time. The boys in green wanted me to call Rose out and have her deputized as well but I balked and asked them why didn't they just go door to door and actually get some adult men to help. Apparently there wasn't time for that. Oh no. They had received their orders and had to execute them immediately. We became one of the few, the chosen, the Citizen Deputy Corp ... and we were going to be members whether we liked it or not. CDs are normally only supposed to provide back-up. We were to remain with the jeep until the NRSC contingent arrived.

So, there I was, holding some kind of automatic weapon that had been shoved into my hands, baby sitting a jeep and trying to keep my fifteen year old son from signing up to join the "zombie patrol." Watching my husband of twenty years and a young man I was beginning to love like a son get positioned on either side of the door that was going to be kicked in. ARGH! I'd rather have been going through the pain of childbirth.

I don't know what it was like for the others. For me, as I drew a breath when the brawniest of the four in camo drew back his foot and aimed it at the door as his comrades on his flanks covered him and the entrance, time briefly stood still. I could hear a raven's claws clicking as it walked across the roof of Mabel's metal shed and the slap-snap of wet Spanish Moss as it swung in the damp, rain-laden breeze.

Then everything seemed to break loose all at once and things moved so quickly that it only came to me in technicolored snapshots from hell.

Combat boot met door. Door frame split with a resounding crack. Door swung inward so fast it bounced off the facing wall. A wild-eyed boy covered in wounds of various severities barreling out of the door being head shot by one of the soldiers; blood, bone, and bits of flesh exploding backwards from the bullet's exit.

Two soldiers quickly entering the house, automatic rifles ready for use. The two other soldiers quickly following when another overly loud shot reverberated from inside the building. Scott and David taking up their posts flanking the front door, both of them tight-eyed and white-faced.

Another shot, then another, then another from deeper within the house. Then silence, only broken by James' heavy breathing to my left as he tried to act like the man that he is still too young to be.

Suddenly a window crashing outward from the second story, shards of glass falling to the ground, nearly spearing Scott where he stood. A body following the glass, its sex indeterminate because it is missing too many parts. Hands reaching and grabbing Scott's leg sending him to the gound. A yawning mouth in motion. And time stood still for me again.

I pictured the day we met at Busch Gardens, introduced by well-meaning friends. Our first date to that stupid Rick Springfield movie whose title forever escapes me. Our wedding day, the tears on my Dad's face and the look on Scott's as I walked down the aisle. Holding him when both of his parents died so suddenly and painfully. Watching him cut the cord at the birth of all our children. All the good times and the bad.

And suddenly the butt of a rifle used like a baseball bat knocking that horror from my husband's leg followed by two guns going off in quick succession, obliterating the fiend's head; one from David who had saved Scott's life and the other from our son who had run into the face of certain and deadly danger to defend his father.

Somehow I managed to find the sanity to count. Mabel, Laurel, Jack, Josiah and the three nameless kids. That made seven. We couldn't assume any survivors – all would certainly have been infected. Dead boy at the entrance. Four more shots from inside the house each one called out as a kill, though I hadn't heard that at the time. The "it" from the second story window. Six down, one to go.

Then from the rear of the house I saw her. The soldiers were still inside. Scott, David, and James all had their attention focused in that direction as well. I couldn't leave this to my men. I couldn't. They could do it but there is no way I could ask them to live with this memory. She was dressed in a ridiculous Barbie nightgown, too short for her coltish legs, carrying a tattered stuffed animal. Both the gown and the toy was caked with God only knew what. Her once strawberry blonde hair so matted with blood that it was nearly black. I had seen that fair hair flying in the wind as she ran to keep up with her older siblings on the days they actually deigned to attend school. I had seen those eyes, already full of innocence lost, as she once chased a Frisbee into our yard. I knew that I could live with what had to be done. It wouldn't be easy living with it, but I knew that I could. I will live with it, probably the rest of my days.

I walked up to her, strangely calm, the borrowed rifle raised and ready, as she slowly shambled in my general direction. For a split second I thought maybe, just maybe I wouldn't have to do this. Then she noticed me and barred her fetid mouth revealing teeth covered in blood and I realized that the stuffed toy wasn't a toy at all but Mabel's pet poodle. I had detested that yapping little beast, but never in all my days would I have wanted its life to end at the hands of this monstrous child.

There was no time left as she practically walked into the rifle's barrel with her mouth wide open. I pulled the trigger. Then again and again and again as I let the gun follow the girl's body to the ground. I was finally able to change the angle and shot once or twice more – I can't remember any longer – and watched as the top of her cranium disintegrated allowing what was left inside her skull to spray out.

I couldn't have been standing there for long. The soldiers had spied the girl from an upper window and had run full tilt to intercept her. Scott, David, and James had turned at the first shot sounding from behind them. The next thing I really remember was Scott holding me as a soldier gently pried my hands from the rifle. I felt tears streaming down my face but nothing else. Nothing at all. I still feel slightly disembodied but the shocky tunnel vision is gone.

I was trying to reassure everyone that I was OK but it was a while before I could push anything that made sense passed my chattering teeth. The NRSC contingent pulled up not long afterwards and questioned us anew while men in black with pristine white armbands, the new uniform of the NRSC, ran biohazard tape around the area and put up road blocks. More soldiers arrived to relieve the original four and then it was their turn for questioning. We all signed affidavits and had our pictures taken to go in the file. We were separately and privately examined to make sure we hadn't been bitten.

The clap on my back and the hearty congratulation on my first "sanitation" left me somewhat bemused. We were also informed that all four of us would get a commendation for a job well-done. We would receive our CD identification badges, along with a paper explaining all of the rights and responsibilities there of within a few days. Gee. Thanks. Right back at ya. I didn't know what to say then and I still don't for the most part. Had I been able to say something it probably wouldn't have been very polite.

At that point I was allowed to briefly run to our house and reassure the kids that all was well. Rose looked ready to pass out. At the same time she appeared to have grown in stature and maturity. The little girl was nearly gone and a strong young woman was beginning to emerge, like a butterfly from a chrysalis. I was proud and sad at the same time. I imagine this is how parents in war torn parts of the world must feel as they watch their babies being pushed into adulthood by circumstances beyond their control

It took most of the rest of the day to deal with the aftermath. I was starting to get the bad shakes by the time everyone left. At some point James and David had both thrown up in the bushes but I wasn't really supposed to know that. Scott let me in on the "secret" when I started wondering if I should fix the boys some lunch. After he clued me in I did notice they were a little green around the gills. Scott had dealt with too many backed up sewers and me with too many sick babies spewing at both ends to let a little thing like blood and exploding brain matter cause us to toss our cookies … but I will admit it was close for a second or two when they dragged the body of the little girl to the garbage truck. Everyone, even the soldiers turned away and tried to ignore the sounds when they activated the loader, crushing the bodies as they were swept into the refuse bin. The heavens chose that moment to open up and begin raining again.

There's not much left to tell. The two-story house has been sealed by order of the NRSC. Nothing was removed, not even the weaponry or explosives. One of the "Clean Teams" will be by tomorrow to deal with the contents of the house.

Scott, David, James, and I stripped down to skin and scrubbed with the strongest soap I could find. Our clothes are soaking in the horse trough and I'll boil them first thing in the morning if I can get a fire going. A light rain continues to fall and we didn't think to cover the wood pile.

The last thing I felt like doing was cooking or eating. Rose and Sarah heated a pot of soup while Bekah refused to leave Scott's side and Johnnie refused to leave his lap.

Those that felt like eating ate, those that didn't were excused. All I wanted was a mug of strong, sweet tea despite the still lingering heat of the day. Actually I think I'm up to my fourth or fifth mug. I can't remember. There's a place deep inside me that refuses to thaw.

We've had the radio on, vainly expecting to hear about our zombie encounter but it hasn't made the news. That has led us to wonder if there hasn't been more attacks than we have been told. And if that's true, what else aren't we being told?

And here I am, back to the beginning of this night's narrative. No one made it to their beds. Everyone is asleep and tumbled together like puppies on and off the furniture here in the den. The solar lantern has faded to barely a glow and the laptop batter is nearly gone as well. When these two go out the darkness will be complete and I'll need to follow my family into slumber. But for today the worst is over. We all survived. And tomorrow the sun will come back up.


	28. Day Twenty-Seven

**Day Twenty-Seven**

Never again will I drink that much tea – that much anything – right before going to bed. Between nerves, caffeine, and the call of nature I probably didn't string more than 40 or 50 minutes of real sleep together at any point last night. Add a symphony of snores and the fact that my "bed" was a Queen Ann chair with a broken spring and my misery was complete.

I thought at least some of us would have had nightmares from our experiences yesterday but no one did. But really, there was hardly any debate anymore about whether to qualify NRS victims as people. I think the debate may have been forcefully stopped by the-powers-that-be but that's only my tinfoil hat talking to me. I think they had to stop the debate so that they could get entities like the ACLU off of their back and out of their way.

Even when the point of death or mode of infection cannot be determined, most experts now agree that by the final stage of NRS the person would have died from catastrophic systems failure and then have been physically reanimated. The instinctual hunt-mode and unprovoked violence of the NRS victims still hasn't been explained to anyone's satisfaction. Neither has all of the transmissibility issues. What has been agreed upon is that the NRS victims – the zombies – are no longer "alive" in any traditional sense of the word. Also, the intellectual and spiritual parts – the corporate identity – of the person has been destroyed. From that point it isn't that much greater a stretch to conclude that an infected person in the final stage of NRS has lost their humanity; they are no longer a real person. If that's true then destroying or sanitizing an infected person is NOT the same as the trauma experienced on battlefields by soldiers for millennia. On the battlefield, people kill people. In the battle with NRS we aren't killing people, we are destroying … organisms of some type. We are acting like antibiotics for the world. But the truth? I still haven't figured out if that is rationalizing and justifying our actions or not. All I do know is that I'm able to live with what we did because the alternative was unacceptable.

The last time I woke up I decided it simply wasn't worth trying to get back to sleep. Dawn's light was beginning to creep above the horizon. I washed my face and tried to start the day. After getting dressed I walked out of the bathroom to find Scott up as well.

"Hey you," he said.

"Hey you," I said right back.

Strength in the familiar. We'd been saying the same thing to one another on nearly a daily basis from our first meeting. Gosh, hard to believe that's nearly 25 years now, 20 of them as a married couple.

The memory of watching that thing try and rip my anchor from my life nearly overwhelmed me. Scott must have realized what I was thinking from the look on my face, or maybe he was feeling the same thing. We hugged each other close offering what comfort we could. We are long passed the point of constantly hanging all over one another to express our affection but at that moment, had I had the luxury, I would have clung to him for hours.

It wasn't but a moment though before we looked down to see a hopeful little face looking up and asking, "Pantates for bwefast pweeze?"

You gotta laugh sometimes or your sanity will go on vacation. After a watery chuckle I left Scott to get Johnnie cleaned up and dressed while I headed to the kitchen.

Breakfast: The rest of the crew was crawling out of the den by the time I pulled the mixing bowl out of the cabinet. I fixed Honey Pancakes to the cheers of all. We ate in shifts; while some ate some did chores leaving others to take their turn in the bathroom and dress. There was no warm water for showers as we had used it up last night scrubbing so it has been spit baths and deodorant getting us through the day.

It wasn't until James mentioned it that I realized we hadn't brought my plants in last night. The overnighter didn't appear to have hurt anything and the rain actually did them good. Now I wish I had been brave enough to put all of them out.

The rain may have benefitted my plants but it made it impossible for me to boil our disgusting clothing. The wood was simply too wet to start a fire with. All it did was smoke and I quickly put that out. The less attention we draw to ourselves the better. As far as I can tell fear is keeping the neighbors at bay, fear and the NRSC broadsides tacked up all over the place listing consequences for compliance failure, but I don't know how long that will last.

The clothes looked nauseating floating in the now rusty-colored water. I dumped in some borax and detergent and swished them around with a fallen branch hoping the wood would be drier later in the day. I worried about possibly having to dispose of these clothes if I couldn't clean them. David's especially. He doesn't have many clothes to begin with and neither James nor Scotts will fit him.

The weather was vastly improved over yesterday so I decided to use the solar cooker again. Same process as before and I had a casserole cooking for dinner in very short order.

As I moved on to my cooking pit and lined it with aluminum foil so I could burn a few chunks of charcoal, I noticed my marigolds were blooming again. This led me to thoughts of poor Mabel. She gave me my first marigold plant over a dozen years ago when we moved into the neighborhood. Seeds from the descendants of that plant have graced my garden every year since.

We were never what you would call close, but we weren't strangers either. I wondered for a bit if I could have done anything to prevent what happened. But on second thought, probably not. Mabel was one of those women who would brook no criticism of her children. Making matters worse, by the time Laurel moved in, she was the only one of Mabel's children still alive and the only one that had given her grandchildren. The heartache Mabel must have experienced when she finally realized how mercenary they all were boggles my mind. But I guess the real question is how did a frail elderly woman with health problems withstand a man like Jack for as long as she did.

From what Scott and David overheard of Mabel's demise, likely an unnatural one, was nearly ordained from the beginning. She was being physically abused and starved. Death was likely a blessing by the time it happened, the result of a heart attack or maybe a stroke. I hope it was quick whatever it was. The irony of her changing and being the one to put an end to her corrupt brood didn't escape me.

Given the timeline she had probably died and reanimated before Josiah had even taken the shot that started that chapter of our nightmare. What Scott and David had heard banging around on the second floor wasn't Mabel anymore but her NRS infected corpse.

Someone must have unlocked the door she was behind. I doubt it was out of kindness. That's all it would have taken. Justice got served. The rest as they say is history. Had we not stood up and tried to do something about the attack on us however, the story could have played out differently with seven zombies escaping to cause even more heart ache. Hiding in our houses isn't going to fix what is going on. I think many, many more people are going to have to take up arms and stand firm. We need a "strong tactical response" like they had out in Texas, but it needs to start at the grassroot level. There just aren't enough guys and gals in camo to hold this particular line by themselves.

By the time I had reached that point in my philosophizing, the coals had burned down enough to put the pot of Corn-Ham Chowder on to cook for lunch. As I was double checking to make sure the grate was going to hold the pot two large panel trucks and a dump truck pulled down the long drive to Mabel's house. Before I had time to wonder about it, Rose hurried over and told me I was needed out front real quick. I told Rose to watch the soup and the fire and then hurried through the side gate.

I've got to say, I'm already so not liking this Citizen Deputy thing. Seems now we have a legal "duty to perform" should any NRSC approved agency call on us. That includes James even though he isn't even 18 yet. He was deputized as a member of the "Youth Brigade." Only in extreme cases, such as what we were involved in yesterday, are members of the Youth Brigade expected to handle weapons. But they could be called upon for almost anything else, including participating in Clean Team assignments.

I'm glad this guy, the Lead Inspector, didn't appear to know about Rose. I could see all five of us being "drafted" for something forcing the three youngest to fend for themselves. When the Inspector asked James how old his sister was he looked him square in the eye and said, "My little sisters are 11 and 8 sir, and I have a little brother that's 4." Smart kid.

The Inspector replied, "Too bad they're too young. We need more brave Youth Brigade members like you." Oh boy, talking about laying it on thick. After that exchange I had visions of Hitler's Youth program flashing before my eyes. My Lord, tell me things haven't deteriorated that much. Tell me I'm simply over reacting.

I ran inside to find that Rose had just brought in the soup. I told her to stay out of sight and that I would explain later, but under no circumstances were they to leave the house and they were to keep all the doors rolled down and locked. The skylight in the kitchen would be their only source of light for a while.

Scott, David, James, and I followed the Inspector to Mabel's house where we were given gloves, goggles, and N95 face masks. We then went to work, or should I say we were put to work.

I stripped any fabric that appeared blood splattered and took it to the dump truck. Some of the bedding, cushions, a few curtains, and most of the rugs went out that way as did a few other odds and ends. I even slid two mattresses out of the broken upstairs window, watching them fall to the ground in a great "whump." One of the truck drivers was kind enough to toss them into the back of the dump truck for me.

The guys cut drywall, removed doors and cabinets, and ripped up flooring. It all went into the dump truck as well. Their worst job was basically dismantling the downstairs bathroom back to the studs.

The official Clean Team members had it relatively easy in comparison. They took pictures of everything and then bagged up any remaining globs of flesh or bone into biohazard bags and deposited them into several buckets in the back of one of the panel trucks. They boxed up what food and booze remained in the kitchen. They also documented and removed the weapons and explosives. They took most of the newer electronics, and a jewelry box from one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Right as I was ready to mutiny the whole operation came to a close. The dump truck drove off and the panel trucks were closed and locked. The nice driver who had helped me with the mattresses told us, "Looks like there is still some decent stuff in there and since you guys are the only CDs called in on this one you won't have to fight for it."

We had no idea what he was talking about and it must have showed on our faces because he called to the Inspector, "Hey Lawrence, these people are newbs and don't know the rules."

Mr. Inspector pranced over in a huff and asked, "You were deputized without having things explained to you?"

Scott answered, "We weren't exactly given any choice in the matter and time was of the essence."

The supercilious bastard actually grabbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Amateurs," he muttered. "Look, after Sanitation occurs on a location – also known as First Phase – a Clean Team is sent in. The initial Clean Team visit is the Second Phase. The Lead Inspector, in this case me, has the authority to call in all of the CDs within a certain radius to help with the assignment. The Clean Team removes any items deemed of use and then leaves. Assuming no next of kin or other legal entity steps in to make a claim, the location is opened up to the CDs for tax-free compensation for their labor. This goes on from the close of the Second Phase until the start of the Third Phase, which in this case will begin in the morning at 7 AM sharp. The Third Phase is a second Clean Team whose responsibility it is to disconnect and disable all of the utility lines, remove any remaining items for public redistribution, and then secure the location against future infestation. Do we understand now?"

Scott, heroically trying not to react to the guy's provacative tone of voice, replied, "If I understand you, we're basically talking about sanctioned looting."

"We don't call it that. I strongly suggest you don't either," he said sourly before turning on his heel and leaving.

The "nice" driver gave a friendly salute on his way out, leaving us standing there in the yard looking at each other. How the heck did we land is this pile of kaka and what on earth are the neighbors gonna think?

While Scott and the boys went back inside to take stock of the situation I ran home. I found Rose having trouble with Johnnie and the girls. I wound up having to put Johnnie in time out. All of the tension and upheaval of the last couple of days – heck the last several months – was finally taking its toll on the younger three. They were beginning to act out whenever Scott or I weren't around to nip it in the bud.

I told Rose how to bring in dinner and told Sarah and Bekah they needed to mind their sister. "There is a lot to do and not much time to do it in. I better not come back in and find that I need to discuss this subject again."

I was torn. I knew it was unfair to expect so much of them when they were so young. And I knew I was going to have to address the situation sooner rather than later. Putting it off was only going to make things worse in the long run; but I would have to take the opportunity some other time. Right now I was needed back at Mabel's house.

On my way out the backdoor I grabbed my notepad and pen and was running back to Mabel's house via the side gate when I was hailed from the far side of the barricades. A couple of the nosier neighbors were demanding to know what was going on. I nearly didn't respond but then something got the better of me and I decided to be as "helpful" to them as they had been to us.

In a harried voice and playing it up for all it was worth I told them, "NRSC business. Um, Greg, I wouldn't get too close. They have to send another Clean Team out. Can't talk long. If we don't finish our job we'll hear about it. That Inspector is a tough customer."

For every step I made towards them, they took two away. I musta looked pretty grungy. My clothes were possibly ruined and covered in … stuff … and I know my hair was escaping its braid and going every which direction. Add the mask still hanging around my neck and the picture was complete.

"Job? What job?" the one named John asked.

Morosely I answered, "Just call us Citizen Deputy Dawgs. We are now at the beck and call of the NRSC. Be careful you guys don't get caught up in this."

The man named Greg, out of work since June, asked "How's the pay?"

"Pay?! Are you kidding, what pay?! We're volunteers with a legal duty to perform. No choice, no paycheck, thank you very much. And you better keep your kids close too or they'll get drafted for that the Youth Brigade. You should have seen what they made James do the last two days, and we couldn't do a dang thing to stop it."

Without quite meeting my eyes John replied, "Yeah, we saw. You say they're sending more NRSC folks out here?"

"For a certainty. Look, I gotta go." Then looking surreptitiously around I sotto voiced, "But I'd be careful if I was y'all, just don't tell anyone who told you, OK? Not everyone might understand I was just being friendly and helpful."

Greg, who thrived on conspiracy theories, gave me a wink and said, "Riiight. I didn't hear anything. John, did you hear anything?"

John was Greg's best friend and just as big a nut in that department as he was. "Hear what? There's so much noise around here lately who knows who said what."

Then both men too one long last lingering look at Mabel's house before turning around; probably heading to spread their latest theories and juicy gossip to anyone who could tolerate listening to them.

Shaking my head and hoping my foolishness wasn't going to come back and bite me on the butt, I rushed down the driveway trying to make up for wasted time. A noise to my left caused me to jump and stop short. Jerking my head in that direction I saw Scott and James nearly rolling on the ground trying to hold in their laughter. A wide-eyed David could only stand there with his mouth open.

It wasn't that funny and I told them so.

Scott, getting himself under control, told David, "Don't worry son, you'll get used to it. Sissy just has her own way of venting her frustrations."

James helpful as always, explained, "Yeah. Mom's crazy and the rest of us have just learned to live with it."

Rolling my eyes I stomped off in a mock huff. But, the closer we got to the front door the less humorous things became until we were all tense and quiet as we enter the building.

Scott asked me what I wanted to do. How did I suddenly become the one in charge? I looked around and then asked if he was serious about doing this. If felt like grave robbing.

That's when David spoke up. "Scott, Sissy, don't take this the wrong way but you all are being too nice about this. If we don't take this stuff the NRSC people will. That lady didn't have anyone else besides the jackasses that killed her and now they are dead too. This isn't stealing. This is surviving."

"I know David, but this gives me the creeps. It feels … "

"Like I said, too nice. Y'all have a great set up – and if the offer is still open I'd be proud to stay for as long as you'll have me – but what happens tomorrow, or the day after, or ten weeks from now, or even longer? Scott, you've told me yourself if cash stops coming in choices are going to get tough real fast. You have food covered for a while, but now I'm another mouth to feed."

"Honey, don't you worry about that."

"Its not a matter of worry Sissy, it's being realistic. Y'all know a little bit about how I grew up and what I got into."

"You pulled yourself out of it," Scott told him.

"Yes sir I did, but it was close. There is stuff I learned the hard way about life and about how some people can be that I hope James here, and the other kids, never have to learn. But the most important lessons I learned were about survival. I've been homeless. I've had to live with one set of clothes day in and day out for weeks on end. I've dumpster dived and I've eaten out of other people's trash. I've done things that I've regretted and done things to survive that I never want to have to do again."

"Oh David," I said, nearly crying.

"No, it's OK. Really. Don't feel badly for me. I learned a lot about life and one of them is that you don't look a gift horse in the mouth and you keep your pride on a short leash."

To try and help move the discussion along I said, "Scott, I think I understand what David is trying to say, but agree with what you are saying too. It does feel wiggy to be going through a dead woman's things."

"Alright, alright. Get off my back. I get it. I just don't like it. I'm treating this the same way I would an abandoned rental unit. That's that. But how much of this do we really need? We have a houseful of our own stuff right there over that fence. They took all of the food and guns. What else could we possibly need?!"

"I can answer that question hon," and I flipped open my handy dandy notepad. "Laundry detergent, cleaners, soap, bug spray, another mop because ours is falling apart. Paper products like Kleenex, toilet paper and paper towels, dish soap, salt and other seasonings, ziploc bags, cooking oil, bandaids, aluminum foil, wax paper, pencils, pens, shampoo, clothes pins, safety pins, extra sheets and blankets. David needs clothes. Another manual can opener to replace the one that broke would be nice too. Would you like me to continue? I can."

All three guys gave me "the look." The same look most men eventually get after they are drug from pillar to post on a shopping expedition. That cross between a deer caught in high beams and a dog that's had its tail pulled one too many times by a toddler but knows it doesn't have any choice but to take the abuse if it doesn't want to sleep in the doghouse for a week or two.

None of us wanted to risk being seen taking anything from the house in broad daylight, the fewer questions we were asked, the fewer lies we would have to tell. We decided to wait for full dark, still several hours away. In the mean time we started on the upper floor and worked our way down. I was hesitant at first but soon we all picked up the rhythm. There were only two rooms none of us wanted to enter. One was the room with the broken window, probably the room that Mabel had been held captive in, the second bloodiest room in the house. The downstairs bathroom was actually the bloodiest and it too was given a pass, not that there was anything left in either room after they had been stripped and the debris taken to the dump truck.

On our first trip through the house we took any unopened container regardless of the contents. The upstairs also yielded linens galore including several new pillows still in plastic and towels that still had price tags on them. Mabel loved shopping and would buy things just because she might need them rather than because she actually did.

David found several sets of clothes that fit and even some decent shoes. An upstairs closet produced a non electric sweeper, several board games we didn't have still in their original shrink wrap, and what looked like a hundred wire hangers I thought were bound to be useful for something.

Downstairs the coat closet yielded rain gear, several pairs of garden togs, and of course coats. All of the food from the kitchen proper had been taken but it turned out that the pantry off of the utility area had been missed completely. I nearly danced with glee to see a large stack of cola cans and all of the other food in there. I took every knife in the kitchen whether it was sharp or not as well as all of the old cast iron cookware, rusty and dusty from disuse. None of the electronics were worth beans but David and James took the time to go through the DVDs and music CDs, their camaraderie and commentary on the former residents' tastes drawing a few quiet chuckles from Scott and I.

We bagged the linen up in garbage bags and tried to pack everything else up the best way we could in pillow cases, laundry baskets, and even in some suitcases we had found in the attic. It was getting late at that point but wasn't yet dark. We were all getting thirsty but I didn't want to use any of the stuff from the pantry until I had a chance to look it over completely. I needed to make sure Rose didn't need anything so off I ran home while Scott and James went into the garage and David went to scope out what was in the two sheds.

All at home was fine and I explained the plan as I began gathering some snacks and water to take back. After full dark we were going to begin bringing stuff out of the Mabel's and putting it over the back fence. Unfortunately we don't have a back gate on the back fence so it was going to be awkward and the likelihood of any of us getting much sleep tonight was pretty slim. Most of the goods would literally be pitched up and over for the girls to catch and haul as fast as they could into the lanai. Anything breakable or too heavy to get over the fence would be snuck around to the front of the house and through the side gate. Not a perfect plan, but it was all we had. I left them with instructions to eat dinner, get Johnnie washed up and put to bed, and to have all of the laundry baskets and any empty Rubber Maid storage tubs ready to fill as soon as it got dark. Then I headed out, yet again, to return to Mabel's house.

The guys were plenty excited when I showed up. I thought it was because I came bearing water and junk food. While they did appreciate that it was actually something quite different that had wound them up so high.

The NRSC people didn't bother checking the covered bed of Jack's Chevy Avalanche or the trunks of the two other cars. They were packed down as if for a major bug out and the inventory included some nifty survival tools and foods along with weapons and ammo. David had plans to siphon the gas from the cars and put it in Scott's van. Tools of all descriptions stood in rolling metal cabinets. Gadgets, widgets, and gizmos lined the walls. Basically the garage was guy heaven. Scott even wanted to move the Avalanche into our enclosed carport. I wondered for a moment if he put the Avalanche in there, what he planned to do with his work van, but I didn't ask. It wouldn't have done any good. All three of them were salivating over the stupid thing. Copper-colored and chromed up with dark leather interior, illegally dark window tinting and a radio that looked like it could broadcast to Mars. I think the kids would have called it pumped up or pimped up or tricked out or something like that. Whatever. All I know is that the truck literally screamed testosterone and said, "Look at me! My owner paid an arm and two legs to have me!"

Scott knows me too well. Before I could say anything he said, "And honey, look what we found for you." They led me out back of the house and to a good-sized shed. David and James opened the doors and Scott led me in. Oh my. I had always wondered what this was but it wasn't visible from this side of the canal.

What looked like a shed from the front was actually a greenhouse. The whole rear of the structure was made of translucent lexan panels. Most of the seedlings had died from neglect but a couple of trays still looked viable. But it wasn't so much the seedlings as it was everything else. There were pots and hanging baskets, dirt and soil amendments, grow lights, insecticides, garden tools and gloves. Stocked behind the shed was mulch, volcanic rock, bales of pine needles and bags of plain gravel. There was even a couple of pallets of these interlocking pavers. Last spring Mabel had planned to redesign her garden but never got around to it after Laurel and her family moved in. I supposed the piles were the remnants of the materials for that project. I'd probably never know for sure.

I took one look at the smart aleck grin on Scott's face and all I could say was, "Fine, you can have the stupid truck. So did you find El Dorado in shed #2?"

I don't know what I had expected but shed #2 turned out to be nothing more than a plain, ordinary, dirty, and stinky shed. No gold, no Gatling gun, no entrance to a hidden fortress. Just old rusting garden tools – the most interesting of which was an old push-reel lawn mower definitely in need of a new blade or two – and Jack's stash of fuel for his bug out vehicles. We knew it was Jack's stash because there was a sign:

 _YOU STEAL MY FUEL_  
 _I STEAL YOUR LIFE_  
 _JACK_

The sign of a well-balanced and calm personality if ever there was one.

In case anyone reading this in the future hasn't figured it out yet, I have a character flaw that involves factitiousness. I've tried to restrain myself over the years but that usually leads to unfortunate outbursts similar to the one today with Greg and John. It's better to avoid situations that cause the reaction or to let it out gradually than to have what Scott calls Major Smart Ass Detonations, like they're some sort of unfortunate digestive problem. Those have been known to cause among other things megrims, migraines, and marital discord; all things to be avoided if at all possible.

We made note of what we wanted out of the sheds and the position of each item. We would be working in the dark and didn't want to stumble and break our necks; or make enough racket to draw attention.

After we finished eating we began a second sweep of the house to make sure we hadn't missed anything. Scott decided to check behind the upstairs AC intake filter. There is rarely an apartment we haven't turned that someone hasn't tried to hide something in one of three places: behind the intake filter, just inside the attic access, or in the toilet tank. Why people don't realize that anyone with any experience considers those the most obvious hiding places is beyond me? Sure enough someone, Jack or one of his kids, had a hidden stash. There was a fancy looking pistol with several full clips of bullets, one of those do everything except what you need it to multi-tools, a knife Rambo would have lusted after, and a redneck wallet – the type on a dog chain – full of silver coins and twenty dollar bills. The downstairs filter intake yielded a similar stash only the gun was a small little revolver looking thing that was more suited to a woman's hand.

I shook my head over how much of a stereotype Jack was posthumously turning out to be. But were we really any different? Looting an old lady's house and coming away with just the right kind of stuff to make our lives potentially easier in the future? It made my head hurt to start thinking in that direction so I put the issue aside. I'd wax philosophical at a more convenient point in time.

Instead, I added two antique Victorian lamps to the growing pile in the living room as well as some decorative wall sconces that would hold candles. I also decided to dig around in the china hutch and found several more candles, a large soup tureen and matching turkey platter, a pickle crock, and a butter bell. While at one time I might have been tempted by the rest of the stuff, now all I saw were things that, while beautiful, were too fragile and delicate to be of any real use to us.

At long last dusk gave way to full dark. We had pulled the drapes so no one could see inside while we worked. This let us use small LED headlamps for light. Outside there was just barely enough moonlight to keep us from tripping over our own feet and just enough breeze to keep the mosquitoes from draining us dry.

Home again, home again, jiggety jig so I could organize bringing the stuff into the house from our side of the yard. I was convinced the fence was going to be a major pain in the tush until I hit on the idea of erecting Scott's paint scaffolding so that it straddled the fence. Luckily Scott and I had put this equipment together so many times we could do it quietly and without light. I guess the reason why the guys didn't think of it is because they've never had to deal with being short. I'm the type of person that has to have a stool hidden in every room of the house or I'd constantly be calling for assistance.

It was finally time to begin moving everything. We started with the house and then moved on to the sheds. The first loads to come over were the lightest; the bags of linens and clothes, boxes of CDs and DVDs, and I personally hand carried the knives, guns, ammo, and money straight to our bedroom closet and locked them away in the footlocker. After that the loads got heavier and heavier until it reached a point where we had to use wheel barrows and Johnnie's wagon to haul them to the front and in through the side gate. I carried most of the breakable stuff and passed it off to Rose to put straight into the house while the guys attempted the herculean task of pushing the loaded Avalanche so it could take the place of the van in the enclosed carport.

That order was repeated for each shed; light to heavy to breakable. It was 2:10 in the morning before we had moved everything we had gathered. I don't think professional movers could have done any better. Johnnie never woke up from his early bed time. Bekah had crashed and burned around midnight. Rose and Sarah were asleep on their feet. James wasn't far from it but he was hanging in there. But Scott, David, and I had just caught our second wind. We decided to go over the house one last time just to make sure, but before I left I sent the girls to bed and made sure the house was completely locked except for the rolling door on the lanai and the side gate.

Once back in the house, I unzipped the cover off of a sofa cushion that had missed getting bloody to use as a bag and headed upstairs, hopefully for the last time. While there had been a few moments of lightness here and there, the emotional environment we were in wasn't very healthy. We aren't normally a nerve-y bunch but the darkness and knowledge of what had gone on there was settling into our bones like arthritis.

With the mess now out of the way I saw a few things I had overlooked. A wind up alarm clock, a magnifying mirror, a stack of crossword puzzle books that would keep Bekah entertained for hours, and several books on gardening in Florida. After I came back downstairs to look around I found the guys taking the bamboo shades off of the rear porch. Scott whispered to explain he was going to hang these inside the lanai so that I could get rid of the sheets I was currently using like curtains.

While they did that I finished filling my bag with a few odds and ends, almost taking things just to fill up the space rather than for a specific purpose. The last thing I put in the bag was an old picture of Mabel and her children that must have been taken during happier times. It was in a prominent place on her mantle. I figured if a history of this era was ever written it would be nice if I could pay some kind of tribute to her, remembering her for something besides eating her young like some mother rat culling the deformed and wounded from her brood.


	29. Day Twenty-Eight

**Day Twenty-Eight**

James was stumbling with fatigue and barely able to stay on his feet by the time I finished my last scrutiny of the house's contents. I asked David to walk him and my bag home while Scott and I tossed the shades over the fence and dismantled the scaffolding. Scott told David to stay home and to get some sleep as well.

As we worked Scott asked me if I was sure there wasn't anything else out of the house that I wanted because daylight wasn't that far away. I thought of the little secretary in the hallway and the feminine boudoir table upstairs and then realized I could waste my time picking through stuff for hours; but, the reality was I was going to have enough trouble finding places for what we did take and anymore items would just be superfluous and because we could.

The only real regret I had was not being able to take the lexan panels off of the first shed. I would have liked to have tried to build my own greenhouse. Scott suggested they would be more useful attached to the lanai as another layer of protection. Either way there wasn't enough time to devise a way to take them without waking the neighbors.

Scott did help me bring home a couple of exotic hanging plants, the African Violets and succulents that Mable had favored that had been sitting on tables in the patio, and we used Scott's dollie to relocate several large concrete planters.

No sooner had we put the dollie behind the fence in preparation to walking to and back from the house one last time to make sure we hadn't dropped anything than the same four soldiers from yesterday – probably in the same jeep – pulled up beside us.

Scott really like these guys. Well, a couple of them were little more than kids but they were old enough to wear the uniform. They had certainly impressed me yesterday. "Hey, good to see you again! You all here as support for the Clean Team? I thought the Phase Three or whatever its called wasn't supposed to start until 7 AM. It isn't quite five yet."

"Change in plans. We got the word while on patrol and swung by to let you know so you wouldn't be caught by surprise."

"Thanks for that but why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"Actually its not too bad. At least it gets you off the work detail. Just we've had a couple of cases where residents of the neighborhood get in the mood to protest."

"What could be so bad … ok, you might as well just tell us so we don't have to guess."

"That house got marked for demolition."

"What?!"

"Last week the NRSC issued some new guidelines and one of those guidelines is that there are only so many zombies allowed per square foot."

Scott and I were stupid with fatigue. We looked at each other sure that there was no way we heard him correctly.

I said, "You're yanking our chain. There is no way there is a rule for something that stupid."

The big guy that had kicked in the door, also the Sgt. of the group, said, "Ma'am, this new administration has more rules than you can shake a stick at. A lot of them contradict one another. The only way around it is to contact a NRSC Manager and half the time you still get reamed out for doing something against regs."

As the sky lightened and the sun rose, NRSC Inspector Lawrence and all the requisite construction equipment, arrived and officially relieved us of duty. We trudged back home and to the mess that waited for us there.

We walked through the gate and closed and locked it behind us. I was so tired all I wanted to do was crawl in bed but the kids would be awake soon and would want breakfast. No sooner had I gotten inside and put my hand on the Coleman stove than there was a terrific bang and crash of metal on metal from out front. I wasn't sure what was going on, the sound seemed too close to be part of the demolition process. Scott flew out the utility room and then through to the carport to see what was going on. When I tried to follow Scott – suddenly still and peaking through the carport gate – he yelled at me to get inside and hurry and wake David and James.

I didn't have to wake either one. The noise had been that loud. Rose and Bekah were also stumbling, bleary-eyed, out of the bedroom. Everyone had slept in their clothes as they had been too tired to change. They looked pretty rough and my mothering instincts wanted to kick in, there simply wasn't time.

I once again tried to follow everyone out to join Scott but the girls and I were summarily ordered back inside the house. The only thing I got a glimpse of was a little rusty white Toyota pick up that tried to tangle with the military jeep. I doubted it was the jeep's fault however because it was still parked in the exact same place it was a little over an hour ago.

Five minutes later, long enough for me to get good and hacked off, James finally rushed in and asked, "Who's Celia?!"

The question was so unexpected that I forgot to be angry. It appeared a young man from our neighborhood named Bobby Porchelli aimed his truck at the guys from Keel Outpost and in the process ran down several of the NRSC contractors before crashing into the jeep. He was screaming and carrying on that they had "killed Celia."

"Uh oh," Rose said, her face white. "I think I know who that is. Celia was Mrs. Mabel's granddaughter. Daniel was the oldest, Celia was next, and then Josiah. Their little sister was named Bunny."

For a second my world tilted and all I could think was that I had shot and killed a little girl named Bunny! I could have done without adding a name to the visual.

Rose continued talking while I tried to regain focus. "Celia and her brothers hung around with Bobby and his friends but then sorta took over the whole gang. Bobby and Celia were going together until Bobby's dad found out ... um, stuff … about Celia." When she hesitated over the word "stuff" she had cut her eyes to Bekah who was standing there wide-eyed and soaking up every detail.

I cleared my throat drawing Bekah's attention and jerked my head towards the bedroom. As only an eight year old is capable of expressing she said, "Awww, why do I always have to leave right when you guys get to the good parts?!"

"You better carry yourself outta here and do what you're told or you're gonna have a good part too sore to sit on. And watch that sassy mouth young lady."

I could just imagine what the "stuff" was Rose was referring to. The girl had been quite pretty in a wild sort of way, but she acted and dressed like a cheap crack whore. The poor thing was dead now however and I thought it best to let the gossip die with her.

James took off with his answer when suddenly I heard staccato popping sounds and then a twang that echoed from the carport and into the house. This was followed by a series of imaginative expletives from Scott and David both.

"What on earth?!" I wondered.

I tried to go see what was going on but was nearly run over by David as he ran through and grabbed the rifles from above the refrigerator. "Scott says to bring out some more ammo as quick as possible. All hell is breaking loose out there. Buncha kids seemed to have started it but now adults are starting to get involved."

As soon as David ran out, James ran in again. Was I ever going to get to see what was happening?! "Dad says he needs some of those towels and something to tie them with. One of the soldiers is really messed up and they are trying to get him into the carport!"

I sent Rose for the ammo can while I ripped open a couple of the garbage bags looking for the clean towels. I had just laid my hands on a roll of duct tape for the "something to tie them with" when Scott screamed "Sissy!" nearly giving me a heart attack.

I turned to see Scott and James dragging both a soldier and David into the kitchen, the only room with decent light because of the skylight. I nearly stopped breathing. David was green around the gills and barely hanging onto the cabinets for support, the back of his shirt torn bloody. He gave me a sickly grin and thumbs-up before slowly pitching forward. Scott and David, who had just laid the soldier down in the middle of the floor, quickly turned and caught him. I heard him mumble, " 'S OK. Gemme a sec to catch my breath."

Scott told me, "It's a pretty deep graze across his back and it hurts like hell I'm sure. Just let him lay still. We're trying to cover the medic so he can make it in. Just see what you can do for this boy here."

I turned from David to look at the young soldier at my feet. It drives me nuts sometimes not being able to remember names, but I rarely forget a face. This young man was from Keel Outpost. He had been here yesterday. But the first time I had met him was right after Scott had gotten jumped by Carlo. This is the same kid who looked not much older than James. I remember thinking somebody raised him right because of how polite and gentlemanly he was; always saying "yes ma'am" and "no ma'am" and offering his help.

He had been so brave when entering a zombie-filled house and I think he might have been trying to be brave outside. But moving him inside must have just been too much. He wasn't quite yelling but he was grunting and moaning loudly in pain. Even with James and Scott trying to hold him he was tossing and turning like from a bad nightmare.

His mouth was pretty busted up but I could make out him crying, "It bit me, it bit me!"

I gasped and looked at Scott with wide eyes. "We've got people down outside and some of them are turning. This kid was in the jeep when it was rammed. There were too many guns going off out there and we couldn't get to him right way. One must have crawled up behind him. I haven't found any bite marks or I wouldn't have brought him in here but he keeps saying that over and over."

It took both Rose and I talking to him to calm him down enough to find out he had been bitten on his ankle. The foot inside the boot was too swollen to get the bootlaces untied so James, who had stayed with us while Scott returned to the now heavily involved riot, used his pocket knife to cut the laces so I could remove the boot.

The ankle was badly bruised and was already coloring up. It may even have been fractured. But no matter from what angle I looked I couldn't find any broken skin. The kid wouldn't believe me until we gently sat him up so he could see for himself. He started crying with relief at that point. As I cleaned him up so I could see what else was going on he slowly quieted down. His mouth wasn't the only thing that was banged up. The primary source of all the blood seemed to be a good sized scalp laceration on the side of his head and that is what I used most of the towels on. I rethought the duct tape and instead pulled the yellow plastic pull strings out of one of the garbage bags that I had ripped up to hold a thick towel in place. I had Rose apply gentle but firm pressure to the wound. The rest of the individual wounds I could see were minor, but combined they took their toll. I had no idea if there were internal injuries I couldn't see. The kid's skin was cold and clammy and a little grey-tinged. I elevated his feet and put a blanket over him. Rose kept talking to him in almost the same voice she had used with Johnnie that time he had taken a header off of the fence and knocked the wind out of himself. It had scared him badly and right now I think this boy reminded us more of Johnnie than of James.

I then turned to David who was breathing funny. It was shallow and quick like it hurt to take a deep breath. He lay face down on one of my kitchen rugs, arms pulled in tight with his clinched fists on either side of his face. I gently called his name but he only shivered, more from reaction than from cold I thought.

"I'm OK it just stings bad," he forced out through gritted teeth.

"OK honey, I'm gonna lift your shirt back here. I need to see what is going on," I told him gently.

"No! I'm fine."

"David. You are more than twice my size and I know I don't have the right to boss you around. But, I am going to lift this shirt and you are going to let me. I will be as gentle as I can but this needs to be cleaned and bandaged," I told firmly.

"Please don't," he whispered. And then he looked at me and I realized something else was going on.

"Rose, do me a favor and check on Johnnie." After Rose left I asked, "David what is it? If it's modesty don't worry about it, I'm a mom and I'll just treat you like I would James. But if its something else, you are going to have to tell me. Do you think one of those things bit you?"

"Noooo. Its not that. You've never seen …. " he hesitated.

"Oh." Now I understood. "David, I saw your back when Scott was putting the antiseptic on your cuts when you first moved in."

"No, you didn't. You couldn't have," he denied, shocked.

"Yes son I did, I was bringing some gauze to Scott and you must not have noticed me. I promise, they didn't make me faint. And they are nothing to be ashamed of. Scott told me about your mom. It wasn't your fault. But unless or until you want to talk about it we don't consider it anyone's business to ask about. The scars aren't pretty and I won't pretend they are. But they'll only ever be as deep as you let them. Now stop worrying about it and let me lift your shirt."

After a brief hesitation he relaxed very slightly; I took that as permission. As the shirt came up all of the welts across the small of his back and the small around burn scars came into view. I ignored them in favor of the furrow running across his kidney area on his left side.

"What happened?" I asked as I gently began to clean it the best I could.

"The gunfire had died down enough that Scott and I thought we could get to him," he said indicating the young soldier beside him. "We knew we couldn't leave him out any longer because one of those things had already tried to get him. Everything was fine until we tried to come back. James was covering us and yelled something. We just kept running, dragging him between us. Suddenly it felt like I got hit by lightening. I fell down and nearly took Scott down too but then that big guy, Sarge, showed up grabbed me by one arm and Cease by the other and all four of us tumbled into the carport. I guess Sarge is out there with Scott and James. They were trying to figure out how to cover the medic guy so he could get to a better location. I should be out there too. I gotta …"

"Young man, you are not going anywhere yet so don't even try that again," I exclaimed, just able to keep him from getting to his knees.

Suddenly Rose, who'd returned without us noticing, spoke up softly. "David, please don't. Do what Momma says. Daddy will call you when he needs you and you need to rest so you can help."

Oh my. Obviously David had not been quite as oblivious to Rose as I had originally thought. He was really giving her the puppy dog eyes despite being embarrassed at having his back and scars exposed for her to see. Quarantines, economic uncertainties, jackass bureaucrats, rioting, injured and bleeding soldiers, zombies, and now possibly young love. Could things possibly get any more complicated in my life right now?!

I left Rose sitting with both young men. Now that David had prompted me, I finally remembered the kid's name was Cecil Davenport but everyone except the grandparents who raised him called him Cease. I then turned to Sarah, Bekah, and Johnnie who had gradually come out of hiding. I knew we were going to wind up with people in the house; not just people but soldiers, and maybe NRSC Reps as well. I looked at all of the boxes and bags and everything else laying all over the place and had a terrible feeling.

"Girls, this is one of the most important chores I've ever given you to do and it has to be done quickly and correctly. I don't have the time to stand over you and you are going to have to figure some things out for yourselves. I need you to start putting all of those bags in one of the bedrooms down the hall, not where David sleeps though. Sarah, you are in charge but no pushing Bekah and Johnnie around, there isn't time for that nonsense. If you all get all of the stuff into the room I want you to open one container at a time – a bag, a suitcase, a laundry basket, whatever – and I want you to start putting things away where you think they might belong. It doesn't have to be perfect but I don't want things thrown together all willy-nilly either. It has to look like it's always been in those places. OK?"

Sarah looked scared stiff to be in charge of something like this and asked, "But Momma, what if we don't know where it should go? What if we put stuff in the wrong place? Why do we have to do this?"

"Sarah, I'm sorry, I just don't have time to be nicer, have more patience, or make it easier. Just do the best you can, all right?! I'll explain it later but basically we took this stuff from Mrs. Mabel's house because we were supposed to be allowed to. Now I'm worried that people might look at our house and think they should be allowed to take stuff away from us. Now get to work. And hurry!"

I didn't have time to feel sorry for myself but I'd probably feel like a horrible mother when things slowed down. Putting an eleven year old in charge of something so important and then not giving her any more than a pittance of guidance was just wrong, wrong, wrong.

I looked for James but apparently he had picked the ammo can off the floor that I had meant to take out myself and headed back to his father. Things were eerily quiet when I stepped into the carport. Scott, James, and Sgt. Something-or-Other were looking out the gate that faced the street.

Scott turned when I came out and beckoned me closer but put his fingers to his lips. He wouldn't let me get too close, I had to look at the outside world from behind the shelter of his arm. I could barely see through the arrow slits that Scott had built into the carport gate because I was so short. Of course the first things to draw my attention were the bodies. There were about a dozen, most with head shots. The ones without head shots either were not dead yet or were somehow immune to NRS. They looked plenty dead to me however so I went with immune or too brain damaged to reanimate. The most disturbing was the woman that had been run over. The bottom half of her was crushed and pinned by some debris, but the top part of her had reanimated. What a living nightmare.

I nearly cried out when I spotted our work van. The windshield had had a couple of rocks or bricks thrown through it and there were a few bullet holes in its side. One tire was flat. And it looked like there was a very injured person under there or it was a zombie. I was terribly unhappy about that being so close to the house.

A deep base voice rumbled near my ear, "That's Henderson. He drives the dozer … drove the dozer … for the demolition team. I'd try to put him down but the angle sucks. This whole assignment has been one great big suckfest from the beginning."

I glanced up to Scott and was about to ask a question when he whispered, "Keep your voice way down. When it's between rounds like this, any small sound seems to draw the zombies' attention."

"Just like in the movies," I shivered.

"Yeah. How are Scott and Cease?" I explained their injuries and what I'd tried to do and then asked where the Medic was. "He's in my van."

"In your …?! You mean he's stuck in there? Or something worse?"

Sarge explained, "He was behind that tree over there. He took a couple of nicks but nothing serious but he was getting stuck in a crossfire as the situation around here escalated. We gave him cover but no one was giving him a break, they were using the damn red cross on his pack like a target. Your husband threw him the keys to the van and so far so good. We didn't know Henderson had turned until it was too late. Scare the piss out of … um, 'scuse me … scared Waleski pretty bad, but no bites."

"But the windshield …"

"He's in the cage area in the back and he has a radio," Scott soothed.

"Yes, ma'am and as soon as they can spare 'em HQ is sending back up from Carrollwood or Odessa, which ever patrol area cools off first. Right now we've got a stand off."

"Where's your fourth man?"

"With most of the NRSC people in the zombie house." I winced hearing it called that. "He's pretty well useless as back up. That pric … uh, jerk … Lawrence is giving him a lot of shi … uh, crap."

Deciding to cut the poor guy some slack I told him, "You know Sgt., I appreciate your thoughtfulness but my ears won't melt. Scott's been known to cause sailors to blush on occasion. Don't waste your focus trying to rethink every word that comes out of your mouth. What was you name again?"

After a quiet chuckle, "Matlock, ma'am. Murphy Matlock. But the boys usually just call me Sgt. Matt."

"Well Sgt. Matt, if you don't mind I'd like to ask you a question. Is there any reason, beside the obvious, that Cease would have been so frightened of being bitten? I know he's just a kid but his reaction still seemed over the top and out of character."

With a deep sigh the man replied, "When soldiers get bit or reanimated the NRSC takes custody of them."

"Excuse me? Custody? I take it that's not a good thing."

"No ma'am, it isn't. No one knows for sure what happens to 'em but there's all sorts of rumors. The only real fact is if the NRSC gets 'em, they're never seen again and their records disappear from the system."

"Well, no one's touching that boy. As far as I'm concerned his injuries were totally a result of the accident. The rest was just a reaction to the head injury. And that's all I'll commit to if asked, understand?"

"Yes ma'am. Loud and clear," said the big man in appreciation.

There was some sporadic popping – gunfire – but it sounded like it was coming from a few streets over. Apparently the violence was now city-wide and devolving into chaos. I was taking in the shape of the rest of the neighborhood when, unable to reconcile what I was seeing, I asked, "Scott, there's no breeze is there?"

"Nope and its already hot as Hades."

"Then what's making the bamboo over in the right of way move like that?"

"Where? Oh crap! Matt …"

"I see it." St. Matt keyed his radio and said, "Patrol L to HQ. Patrol L to HQ."

"This is HQ. Go ahead Patrol L."

"HQ this is Patrol L. Situation expanding. At least three NRS targets escaping containment. Repeat, three targets escaping containment. Heading southwest through lowland terrain."

"Patrol L this is HQ. Expanding situation noted. HQ out."

After a brief silence I said, "OK, tell me that means they're expediting some help this direction or sending someone to intercept those things."

"No. It means they are backlogged and don't have anyone available to respond. There is sporadic violence occurring all over the county. They'll probably notify the local LEOs who are even more short-staffed than we are. Beyond that there are a couple of community groups that have organized neighborhood response teams, but they aren't professionals."

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. After another few moments Scott asked, "Babe, can you bring us some water and something to eat?"

"Sure. James …"

"I want to stay with Dad."

"But." I looked to Scott who was no help. He felt I babied James too much most of the time. I sighed and said, "All right, just …"

"I know Mom. Dad's here, I'll be fine. Go do your thing."

My little boy. I'd thought to have more time before he grew up. If I suspected life to be unfair before, I know it to be unfair now. This was not the world I had envisioned my children growing to adulthood in.

After taking some snacks (and earplugs) out to the carport, I spent the rest of the morning and part of the early afternoon taking care of Cease and David and trying not to worry any more than I could. I managed to throw together a quick lunch of Skillet Chicken and Stuffing using some canned chicken and a couple of boxes of Stove-Top Stuffing out of the stuff we brought from Mabel's. Time seemed to stretch. Whenever someone would try and break the stand off it would set off a new round of gunfire and rock throwing that would slowly die back to another stalemate. My nerves were frayed and it took everything I had not to snap. I was all over the house trying to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied.

I only vaguely registered that Scott and Sgt. Matt were firing their guns again, the deep echo from the carport barely penetrating the two insulated metal doors that I had finally closed between the carport and the main house. I was dipping more water to refill my drip filter container when James suddenly brought another soldier into the house. Waleski the Medic had finally made it in and I was very relieved to turn my patients over to him. Maybe he could talk some sense into David who had finally reached the limit of his forebearance and was planning an exit to the carport no matter how much pain he was in.

After his examination of the men I was relieved to find out I hadn't done them any harm. After some serious thought I turned over a full quarter of my total supply of fish antibiotics to Waleski. He looked at what I had given him and then dosed both Cease and David and put the rest of the supply in his pack. All the while he lectured me on the dangers of using drugs without a prescription.

I was tempted to snap, "You're welcome. So glad you appreciate the supplies," but didn't as I knew he was just doing his job. I told him I was well aware of the risks and that I had ordered the meds solely for a truly worst case scenario and not for casual dosing. He unbent a little after that. He unbent all the way after I told David to stop fussing and mind the medic or I'd download the music of Doctor Demento, Tiny Tim, and a choir of yodeling cowboys onto his iPod and make him listen to it.

About two o'clock everyone started catnapping. James, Scott, Waleski, and Sgt. Matt dozed in shifts in the carport despite the heat. Young Cease was in and out most of the time already. David finally fell completely asleep and was out for several hours after the pain meds Waleski gave him took affect. Rose was only half awake as she sat watching in case the medic was needed again. Sarah, Bekah, and Johnnie actually had managed to move everything into the bedroom at the end of the hall and had even emptied most of the garbage bags. I sent the three of them to lay down in my bedroom where I turned on my battery powered soundscape machine on "sea shore" setting to drown out the occasional burst of violence from outside. It wasn't long before all three were deeply asleep.

I was so tired things were grey around the edges, I just couldn't bring myself to rest. Too much to do. Too many strangers in the house in a situation too volatile. As a result I did something I hadn't done since college and was sure to regret. I popped a couple of extra strength No Doze and downed them with one of Scott's high octane energy drinks that I had dug out of its hiding spot. I hid the now empty can under our bathroom sink, as much to keep Scott from knowing what I'd done as anything else.

Sure enough a few minutes later I was wide awake and trying to keep my skin from crawling off my body. It was a terrible sensation but a dimly remembered one from when I took my youth and vitality for granted in favor of week long study-a-thons; from when grades and tuition money were more important than my health and sanity.

The rest of the afternoon sped by as I tried to hide our bounty while avoiding the soldiers' notice as best I could. I didn't think they would cause us any problems but you just never knew. Thank goodness the guys had finished building and concealing the storage areas on both sides of the pantry. The only food unhidden at this point were a few opened containers in the kitchen and the food from Mabel's. Even if that food was confiscated we would not have lost anything but the time it took to pack it to the house. I didn't even bother putting it away but lined it up neatly on the floor of the dining room.

The girls had done a good job and put away all of the fabrics, textiles, craft supplies, and clothes. I put the utensils and iron cookware away in the kitchen with the few other odds and ends like the pickle crock while trying to gingerly step around the wounded. Books went onto the bookcases. I took family pictures down and hung up the sconces and oil lamps. And on and on.

Scott came in a couple of times for drinks and to wash his face. He noticed what I was doing and nodded his approval, stopping short of saying something out loud that the soldiers might overhear.

My "pep up" remedy began to wear off while I was trying to think what to make for dinner. My right hand was shaking and I was getting nauseous. I guess I thought I'd started to hallucinate when I first noticed the clock on the microwave was blinking. I thought no, it couldn't be.

I stumbled my way out to Scott and shared the news that the power was back on.

"That would explain the cheering we keep hearing," Scott replied.

"Hopefully that'll help settle folks down some. Getting people off the street will make a mop up operation easier," Sgt. Matt added.

Waleski who tended to be a pessimist by nature added, "Unfortunately that's probably going to mean a county-wide house-by-house search for injured and bitten people. We've had a few more of the infected escape our range. People will go inside their air conditioned homes to tend to their wounded."

Just as I was beginning to relax Sgt. Matt ground out, "Aw hell, why won't those damn kids give it up already?!"

James, already pale from exhaustion, lost what little color was left in his face. "Dad, I … there's something … Dad, I think they're … Bobby's clothes are all bloody. Cindy Knapper … she's missing her … Ronnie G … Dad?"

Scott pushed James and I behind him and looked out the arrow slit. Sgt. Matt and Waleski were at the other one. Scott turned and began, "Sissy go back …"

This time I refused to be sent in the house like a wayward child. I stepped under Scott's arm and took my turn at the opening. Only once I saw, I wish I hadn't.

I knew, or at least recognized, most of the kids out there. Bobby Porchelli, the teenage stud of the neighborhood who had a different girlfriend every Friday night, at least until he fell in love with a girl named Celia. Cindy Mae Knapper who was always trying to fit in with the cool kids no matter the cost. Ronnie Grossman, slightly older than the rest, who was the "go to guy" for drugs and liquor. Marie Castellano who already had two children though she wasn't yet sixteen. The other seven or eight kids I sorta recognized even in the condition they were in, but I couldn't remember their names to save me. No wait, that kids' name was Danny Snowden. He gave James his first black eye in Cub Scouts. I knew that kid was going to have a bad end but not this bad. Huge chunks of skin and muscle were missing from both his arms.

I was finally able to look away from the shambling wrecks the teenagers had become when I heard James heaving in the corner.

I rushed over to him, "James …"

"I'm OK Mom," and he shook me off.

"Scott …"

"Leave him be Sissy."

"What?!" I said in shock.

"Stop it Mom. I'm not a baby!"

"I didn't say you were. You're just upset. But you have to remember these aren't your friends any more. They …"

And like most wounded tend to do, he lashed out and I just happened to be closest. "Mom! Those kids were never my friends. They were losers and worse! I coulda cared less if some of them had been run over by a train. At least last year, when they would have stayed dead! Now though, now they get to cause all this crap, die, and then come back to do it all over again! And it all started 'cause of a stupid, slutty whore. Celia wasn't worth the dog crap on the bottom of my shoe. She was such a skank no matter what everyone said. But somehow she and her jerk off brothers came to town and took over. Even some of my real friends fell for her act and the things she offered. Cliff and Rachel are out there Mom. So's Eddie. They wouldn't be out there if they hadn't …"

He finally broke down and started sobbing. I gave Scott a look that warned him he better leave me alone and not say a damn thing. I held my son while Sgt. Matt, Waleski, and Scott "sanitized" kids that my kids used to play with when they were all too little to even know what a zombie was.

We jumped with every shot, the reverberation almost more than our ears could take. Finally it was finished; the gunfire and James' tears. He pushed me away and stood up, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"I'm fine now," he said, pushing away from me yet again. He stood straight, walked over to Scott, and looked him in the eyes and said, "It won't happen again Dad."

Scott gave his shoulder a squeeze and a pat and walked towards me. I turned and went back in the house, shutting the door in his face.

He followed me anyway. I walked as far away from him as I could get, back down the long haul, but there was no escape. I tried to brush by him to get away but he caught me by the arm and wouldn't let go no matter how I pulled.

"Sissy …"

Fine, if he wanted a fight I could give him one.

"Damn it. He's just fifteen! Fifteen!"

"I know, look …"

"Don't! Don't you dare justify and rationalize this like it is OK. Its not."

"I never said it was OK. And yes, I know he's just fifteen. I know damn well how old all of our kids are. I was there and held your hand during every one of their births. But I also want to see them live to get older."

"Then stop pushing them …"

"What happens to them if something happens to us?" Scott demanded to know.

"Leave me alone. You don't understand."

"Answer me Sissy, what happens to them if something happens to us?"

"They've got this house and we've stocked …"

"For how long? What happens if someone bigger and stronger comes along and takes it from them?"

"My parents …"

"Are three hours north of here and in poor health. Your brother and his wife? Don't think so, they can barely manage the two they have."

"They'll look after each other."

"How?!" Scott took a deep breath and lowered his voice even further. "Rose is soft Sissy. You know it and I know it. She means well and she's good with the kids and may make one hell of a pediatrician some day, but there's no time for that right now. She's too gentle and will break if I try to push her as hard as she needs to go."

"She's better than she was. Have you seen her lately?"

"Better isn't good enough these days. And let's talk about Sarah. She's just eleven and even more tender-hearted than Rose is and falls apart if you look at her wrong. Bekah and Johnnie? They can't even take care of themselves yet. That leaves James."

"What about David?"

"What about David? Yeah, I know he'd never leave them alone and defenseless, but he can't just suddenly take our place. Hell, his own childhood was a nightmare, he's had no training in how a parent is supposed to act. With James strong and at his side however he might be able to pull it off. Rose could be a good mother figure, but only if she has a strong partner and plenty of support. And yeah, I've seen Rose and David looking at each other when they think the other isn't looking. That could wind up working but I'd rather see them take that real slow. Life's too hard to make a mistake of that size as young as they are."

I didn't want to hear what Scott said. I resented that it made sense; too much sense. I'm their mother damn it. I'm supposed to protect them from stuff like this, not steal their childhood away.

I was still furious, just no longer furious at Scott. I wanted things back the way they were. I wanted our crazy normal lives back. I wanted our worst problems back to being the rising cost of insurance and taxes and renters who skipped on us. I wanted NRS to be a figment of some horror writer's imagination.

I was crying. Then suddenly I was falling. I was crying and falling and then drifting all at the same time. Colors seeped out of everything. Shapes elongated and distorted. The world started making even less sense than it had been making.

I know Scott was calling my name. I saw his mouth moving, but where the sound had gone I couldn't imagine. I couldn't even seem to form the words to ask him what was happening.

My eyes closed and wouldn't reopen. The last thing I vaguely recall was Scott picking me up from the floor.


	30. Day Thirty

**Day 30**

I've lost over 24 hours somewhere along the way. I still feel like someone has hollowed me out and replaced all of the important stuff with sawdust.

The days without sleep combined with my stupid attempt to stay awake even longer finally caught up with me. Adding to the problem was the quote/unquote "extreme emotional distress" I had been in.

The first thing I remember was realizing I was cool for the first time in a long time. I heard the steady trill of some kind of bird right outside my window. I also realized I needed to go to the bathroom. Badly.

I was so sore. I ached down to my very bones. Every joint popped in protest as I opened my eyes and rolled out of bed. I could hear voices coming from somewhere in the house, but the bathroom came first.

When I was more comfortable I took stock of myself, trying to figure out what was going on. I washed my face, brushed the fuzz from my mouth, and dressed and followed the voices to the family room. First thing I saw was that Inspector Lawrence pointing his finger at my family who were lined up in front of a frankly petrified Pvt. Davenport.

All I could think was "what a way to start the day."

I caused everyone in the room to jump when I said, "You point that finger at my family or anyone under our protection again and I'm gonna rip it off. And tell your goons to take their guns off of Matlock and Waleski. Last I heard this was the USA, not the Lawrence Dictatorship."

"Madam, I will not tolerate such insolence. I'll de-deputize you and everyone in your family."

"Oh for Pete's Sake, is de-deputize even a word?! You want a fight big boy I'll give you one."

Scott tried to cool me down and warn me off, "Sissy …" I wasn't having any of it and got really warmed up and ready to go. I was in the mood to let off some truly ginormous Smart Ass Detonations. I was suffering serious caffeine withdrawal and the hammers in my head were going to get aimed at the head of that poisonously supercilious jackass.

"You come into our home. You threaten us. You act like you're some sort of tin pot godlet. And you somehow have the arrogance to imagine taking something away we didn't want in the first place is gonna make us bend over and kiss your butt?! No! You just shut up and hear what I'm telling you."

After a deep breath I said, "You threaten us, any of us, and I'm gonna explain to anyone who will listen that this whole fiasco is your fault. You refused to allow that other soldier, what's his name …"

"McElroy ma'am," said Sgt. Matt.

"Yeah, him. You refused to allow McElroy to rendezvous with Sgt. Matlock here so they could mount a defense of their patrol area. That action directly resulted in an elevated casualty rate and property damage. Now you are threatening an injured man half your age who is obviously still unable to defend himself."

"That 'man' you're defending was bitten."

"No he was not," I lied, there was no reason to try and explain the bite didn't make it through the kid's boot and break any skin. "I was the first one to tend to him. I looked him all over and there's not a bite on him."

"As a duly appointed NRSC Lead Inspector I reserve the right to examine him myself."

"Listen Chuckles, unless you can prove to me you are a medical doctor and that you aren't carrying NRS bacteria, you are not gonna lay a hand on him."

"Do you know who I am?!"

"Yeah. You're the guy I saw running away from the action, screaming like a little girl. The whole flaming neighborhood could hear you."

Then I spotted it. The bloody bandage under his sleeve.

"Get out of my house. Get out of my house right now!"

"Why you crazy bi …"

"Sgt. Matlock, Lead Inspector Lawrence has a bloody bandage that he is hiding under the cuff of his right sleeve."

Everyone got real quiet; even the NRSC troopers began to eye Lawrence warily.

"Mr. Lawrence roll up your sleeve," began the one on the right.

"Don't be insulting. I will do no such thing."

"Mr. Lawrence I will not ask you again sir, roll up your sleeve."

"I … I was injured during the fighting. Its nothing," the man bluffed.

"We'll need to let the medic down at the Shop determine that."

"Absolutely not! I have work to do and don't have time for this foolishness." He was quickly losing his cool and arrogance and had begun to edge towards the door.

The NRSC troops were on him in seconds. I'll give one thing to those black shirted goons, they move fast. They quickly subdued him, cuffing his hands behind him and strapping a plastic face mask across his mouth. As they drug him out the door to a waiting ambulance the man could be heard screaming, "This is just a misunderstanding! Do you know who I am?! I am Lead Inspector Jeremiah Lawrence! You can't do this to me! This is an outrage, release me this instant!"

The ambulance doors closed, thankfully cutting off his cries and demands to be released. The troopers threw a salute Sgt. Matt's way before pulling out and following the ambulance as it rolled slowly down the debris-cluttered road.

I was standing there glaring at the receding vehicles with my hands on my hips, feeling amazingly good for some reasons when Johnnie piped up, "Yay! Momma waked up! Pantates pwetty pweeze? Daddy burnted de uver ones."

The adrenaline rush of giving Inspector Lawrence the heave-ho from our home quickly dissipated. I bent over to give Johnnie a hug and nearly wound up on my head. Scott and David, who was up and around, grabbed me before I actually fell over, but I was still seeing little black dots.

Waleski motioned for me to be brought back inside. "When's the last time you had anything to eat, ma'am?"

Thinking, I replied, "I don't know, yesterday at lunch I think."

"Honey, you've been asleep over 24 hours," Scott said as he sat beside me.

In disbelief I said, "No way."

"Yes way. And if you do anything like this again I swear … "

"Oh geez. I'm fine. Stop fussing." I was embarrassed at the attention and reminder that I wasn't 100% yet. A small voice inside wondered if this was how James felt when I "fussed" over him.

Scott wouldn't take my word for it, thus I had to put up with Waleski doing his medic-thing. His conclusion was that I had pushed myself too hard for too long and that the best thing for me at this point, besides a little more rest was a sweet, hot drink – unfortunately of the decaffeinated variety – followed by a light meal. I asked for a cup of my Ginger-Lemon Tea and then asked them to please fill me in on what had been going on. Hearing I'd slept over a day away made me feel out of touch. I felt like I must have missed something important. Things had been moving so quickly lately that it felt like I was reading a book with a chapter missing out of it, but that I just didn't know if the vital clue to solving the mystery was revealed in that chapter or not. It was frustrating and worrying at the same time. But my, it was nice to be able to sit down in a lighted living room with air conditioning while I was brought up to date.

After a brief hesitation they explained; everyone added bits and pieces as the story went along including the soldiers we seemed to have somehow inherited. After I had collapsed, Waleski had been called in and subsequently determined I was suffering primarily from exhaustion. I was put to bed with the girls taking turns watching over me and things had gotten even more chaotic after that. There were still more than enough NRS victims roaming around to cause everyone to be wary of moving around out in the open. The zombies followed the same pattern they always had. Newly animated zombies were very slow but within an hour of reanimation they could move at almost normal speed for a very limited time. This was why some newly animated zombies are sometimes hard to spot from any distance. But after that point they began to slow back down, just not at any consistent rate. Some slowed down more quickly than others depending on damage to the body. Most of the zombies in the neighborhood were new, but had already reached the stage where they were slowing back down. Individually they were fairly easy to avoid, but in numbers they could quickly overwhelm. Since they seemed to be attracted to sound it was not that difficult to suddenly find yourself the center of attention of several zombies at once. For a lone person, that could be disastrous, particularly if all the escape routes were blocked. And fear often made people react poorly or slowly.

Another couple of hours went by before everyone could say with certainty that the riot was finished. The NRSC folks that had holed up in Mabel's house came out, tried to act official and then skedaddled back to their headquarters before it got dark. All they did was hack people off again as they are the ones that are supposed to be spearheading all NRS response, which should mean they don't get to run away when things get tough.

Other areas of the county had also calmed down as people retreated back into their now air-conditioned homes to rest and lick their wounds – proverbial as well as actual.

It wasn't until the next day – yesterday – that another military patrol, this one commanded by an officer, showed up to help clean things up. It was a good thing too because that was when Lead Inspector Lawrence showed back up, doing nothing but sowing more seeds of discontent by his attitude of superiority and lack of insight into the situation in general. All of the dead, re-dead, and bitten found during the door-to-door searches were taken away to this place called "The Shop." Ostensibly a medical facility, no one ever seems to get better and/or released from its custody. Confiscation of some items from people's homes was also done, primarily of homemade weapons, liquor, etc. They didn't toss the houses looking for contriband, but if it was in "plain sight" it became a temptation for the NRSC investigators to take.

Lawrence demanded that everyone prove that they hadn't been infected - a weird take on "guilty until proven innocent." Someone mentioned seeing the zombie attack Cease and that lead Lawrence to demand that Cease be placed in his custody. The only thing that prevented Lawrence from taking him was Maj. Martin's intervention. Lawrence warned that he would be back so Maj. Martin asked Scott if we would house Cease in our home until things calmed down and he was able to get an military injunction against Inspector Lawrence. Matlock and Waleski bivouacked at our home as well while McElroy returned with Maj. Martin to make a full report, giving his personal testimony since he was the one with the NRSC people during the stand off.

The evening was quiet as everyone was exhausted. Zombies could occasionally be heard bumping into things but there were no new attacks, at least none that were reported.

This morning had started relatively quiet, the only ruckus being Scott's attempt at making pancakes for breakfast … the mess of which was still waiting to be cleaned up in the kitchen. Not long after that however Inspector Lawrence returned, forced his way into the house using his NRSC troopers, and tried to bully Cease into custody again. That's what I heard when I first woke up. What I saw was right after he had given the order that Cease was showing signs of combativeness and on that suspicion alone he was being taken in for observation.

"What?!" I asked after noticing that Matlock was looking at me strangely and shaking his head.

"I'm just wondering how such a short little thing like you gets away with having such big mouth. It's a wonder Scott here has any hair left at all. If I had a wife like you I'd been bald long time ago."

"Well excuse the heck out of me. How the heck did a big thing like you get pushed around by such a small-minded little man like Inspector Lawrence? As for the bald thing, real women aren't interested in men who spend more time on their hair than they do. You'd think you'd appreciate that given that flat top you have going on."

"Touché," and everyone laughed.

I continued, "I know my mouth can run away from me. Seriously though, I'm not joking now … I appreciate everything everyone had done and hope I didn't offend anyone. I wasn't myself yesterday and I must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I don't know what's come over me."

"Sissy," David put in, "don't be so hard on yourself. You've got plenty of self-control and know when to stop. My mom didn't. There's no comparison between the two of you. You're just a momma bear and anyone who isn't smart enough to figure that out quick deserves to get chewed on." After an embarrassed pause he added, "Besides, it was kinda funny watching that Lawrence fella's face when you lit into him."

"Oh David." Now it was my turn to be embarrassed while everyone laughed in agreement.

Rose continued the conversation by asking, "Sgt. Matt, do you think they'll let Mr. Lawrence out?"

"It depends what that wound was. It's against regs to fail to report any wound that breaks the skin. And Mr. Inspector Jeremiah Lawrence seemed awful shifty for it to be as simple as he was making it out to be. Something wasn't right. At worst he was infected. At best he'll probably be relieved of duty for screwing things up. Either way he is in custody now and we aren't likely to see him again any time in the near future, at least not in his current job."

Waleski, being Waleski added, "Let's just hope the next Lead Inspector isn't someone worse."

I asked David and Cease how their injuries were doing. David is up and around but can't do any heavy lifting or he tears open the scab that is trying to form on his back. He's primarily acting as a look out. He says he isn't in pain so long as he doesn't hit the spot on something and keeps the bandage clean. If I can believe him, and I suppose I must, it's probably because he had to build up a high pain tolerance from all the beatings he took as a child. What a thing to be thankful for. Cease is still very tired and while he isn't sleeping all day long he is catnapping his way through it. The head laceration is a mess and Waleski is worried about infection and heavy scarring. He finally had to go in and put stitches in and couldn't numb the area to do it. The kid is physically traumatized but mentally hanging in there. He may lose two teeth and one is definitely chipped, but not down to the nerve. He's banged up and bruised up and still can't put much weight on his injured ankle, but overall he is doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances.

Just as the conversation was reaching a lull I heard, "Momma, I hungry."

It was about lunch time and I needed to get busy. Scott was adamant though that I just sit and supervise and not do the work myself. I think I scared him pretty badly. I avoided a lecture however as he had to take the boys and work outside, helping with clean up around the house and trying to figure out what to do about his work van. It was nerve wracking for me knowing that they were out there while there were still zombies on the loose. However, Matlock and Waleski rarely ventured more than a couple of houses away through out the day and everyone worked as quickly and quietly as possible. The few gunshots that were fired were a few streets over when a search revealed another house with all residents dead or infected.

As I looked over what food items we had out I quickly chose to make Tuna Salad roll-ups. If people didn't want to eat the tuna salad on flour tortillas they could eat them on crackers or melba rounds. I had quite a few mouths to feed as the soldiers would need to be fed also. Apparently resources are running short even for the military. Their ammo was resupplied, as was Waleski's medical kit, but they didn't receive any MREs and were just about starving to death by the time Matlock said something to Scott night before last. I believe that the military is expecting at least some of their troops to live off of the willing – or in some cases perhaps unwilling – support offered by the community they are patrolling.

The crowd at the dinner table included our five kids, then David, Scott, and myself. Add Matlock, Waleski, and Cease. I might even have McElroy for dinner tonight if he shows up. That's five, possibly six, grown men, James who ate like one, then the girls, Johnnie, and myself. Twelve people. I had second thoughts, realizing the tuna fish wasn't going to cut it. I decided to make two large casserole dishes of Bombay Lentils and Rice since the my electric oven was usable again. I already had lentils and brown rice in the kitchen cabinets. I had raisins from the stuff from Melba's place. The only thing I had to sneak out of my other supplies was some pine nuts and luckily those were one of the items stuffed in my box spring – filling up space between the large #10 cans - rather than hidden in the pantry.

Good glory, you would have thought no one had eaten in a week. I know that I hadn't got as much cooking done over the past few days as I normally do, but my goodness. It was like watching a bunch of steam shovels eating. Waleski was even happy to see that Cease had an appetite again, and I didn't think Waleski was ever happy about anything. There wasn't a grain of rice left for the birds to fight over.

After lunch I finally took the time to delight in having the electric back on. You can get used to anything but I have to admit that it is a lot nicer, not to mention easier, with it on than with it off. I especially like being able to get in the shower and have hot water on tap. Rose made sure the girls had washed their hair yesterday. I washed mine as soon as I finished making sure the kitchen got cleaned back up … no easy task as Scott had nearly wrecked one of my good skillets trying to make those pancakes and there was batter everywhere. The power being on also took some of the pressure off of Scott and David figuring out how to get our well pump to operate on solar power.

While I was in the shower, McElroy showed up with another jeep. However, the men's orders hadn't changed much, they were to remain bivouacked with us until after the demolition of Mabel's house was complete. A new demolition team was scheduled to come out the next day and the demolition should be complete the day after that. What that means for us is that I have at least 7 to 9 more meals where I am going to have to feed four additional adults. Worse, I have no idea whether any of the Demolition Team will wander over this way expecting to be fed. Realizing that I knew I needed a plan and I needed it fast.

After inventorying what remains of the stuff from Mabel's and what I have in my kitchen cabinets I came up with the following:

Breakfasts:  
*Grits, Canned Ham, Biscuits  
*Bacon Hash (using canned potatoes, real bacon bits, and powdered eggs)  
*Grog Cakes

Lunches:  
*Salsa and Cheese Macaroni (using jars of salsa, a block of American cheese, & macaroni)  
*Stir-Fried Noodles and Rice (using Ramen Noodles)  
*Tomato –Bacon – Onion Fettuccini

Dinners:  
*Turkey Tetrazzini (using canned turkey or chicken and Ramen Noodles)  
*Creole Beans and Rice  
*Rice Roast (I'd have to sneak some of my rice out of the pantry for this one)

While I sat at the dining room table working the menu out, I had the kids doing a lot of general chores that I had put off when the power was down. All of the rooms needed to be swept, mopped, and/or vacuumed. The bathrooms were definitely in need of cleaning; they were plenty disgusting. The potable water barrel needed to be refilled and the ice trays needed to be filled and put in the freezer. Most of all though we needed to do laundry. I swear some of it was so bad it could probably have reanimated and walked away on its own.

Most of the towels that I had used on Cease and David's wounds were ruined. The clothes that I had set to soak so many days ago certainly were. And all of the clothes that we had brought back with us for David needed to be washed before I wanted them worn. The horse trough was dumped out, the sour smell of the water making me gag like nothing had in a long while. I dumped the towels in the trough and dumped in a couple of opened bottles of peroxide that came from Mabel's as well. I was hoping that the peroxide might help me save some of the towels. We really did need them. I left that stuff soaking while I tossed the clothes over the clothesline and tried to spray off the worst of the stink with my garden hose.

Between regular loads I would throw in a load of towels or a load of nasty work clothes. This went on all afternoon and into the evening.

By the end of dinner – I chose to fix the Turkey Tetrazzini – I was ready to crawl back in bed. Waleski had nixed any caffeine for me for at least another day or two and I was trying to be good and not sneak one of my colas. I didn't though it was tempting; they called to me like a sea siren. I determined to take my mind off of the craving by catching up on this journal and I listened to the news, such as it was.

The local news was not informative at all. I believe it is because the NRSC has people assigned at each station and they may have instituted censorship. There was some news from abroad, but it too seemed like it was being filtered. I wouldn't have said that the things were upbeat, but the broadcasters certainly weren't full of absolute doom and gloom like they had been.

I was actually surprised that Tampa hadn't made the Quarantine Zone List. If we weren't bad enough yet to make the list, I couldn't imagine the nightmare the quarantined cities must be.

First thing tomorrow I want to try and reach my parents again. That meager text message days ago wasn't enough. I want to actually hear my parents' voices. And I want to try and find out if the news in their area is revealing more than the news from our area.

My final concern for the evening then I promise I'm going to close. James is avoiding me, or it seems that way. Have I alienated him completely? I'd talk to Scott about this but Scott would make him talk to me and I don't want it if it is forced on him. He wouldn't even look at me when I handed him a mug of cocoa, barely even mumbled thank you. I guess I just need to give it time, but it's no longer a secret that I like to manage things. I want the situation resolved now, not later. I don't think I'm gonna be able to do that this time.


	31. Day Thirty-Two

**Day 32**

We had quite a wake up call this morning!

It was still dark out and I was beat. I stayed up late journaling and then was awake part of the night while Scott and James took their turns on watch. Seems that was one thing they forgot to tell me about. The guys decided that we needed to continue the "watch" system. It wasn't too bad actually because the soldiers participated in the shifts as well.

It felt like I had just gotten back to sleep when I heard, "Psst, Scott … hey Scott."

Scott just mumbled and rolled over so I asked, "David? What do you need son? Is there a problem?"

"Sgt. Matt said to get ready 'cause they're about to …"

BOOM!

Windows rattled. The accordion shutters on the windows rattled. I swear, even my teeth rattled. "Son of a … what was that?!" Scott roared, grabbing his pants and throwing them on while I tried to calm the kids down, especially Johnnie who was screaming.

"The Demolition Team sir," David answered apologetically.

"Lord its not even five yet. Are they out of their minds?! People are jumpy enough as it is, this will make them think the world is coming to an end."

It seems that because so many buildings were now scheduled for demolition that the D Teams, as they were called, were working around the clock just to try and keep up.

An enormous amount of banging and grinding continued through much of the remainder of the day. The soldiers went around first thing in the morning calming people's fears but also asking them to remain indoors as much as possible because they expected the noise to draw the few zombies that had escaped the searches of the last two days.

The noise drew more than a few. What they got was many times the number that was expected.

One of the eeriest sights I've seen today was when I was out back hanging out some clothes and tending to my plants, which thankfully hadn't been hurt by my temporary neglect. I noticed there was a noise like something running into the west side of the fence. Not hard. In fact I really didn't pay that much attention to it at first. Then there was the swooshing sound like something brushing against the fence and then leaving. I thought maybe a bird had been after a bug on the metal fence or had been attracted to the reflection of the fence. Then it happened again. The bump, bump, bump, swoosh, then a sound like someone was slowly running a stick down the fence to the north west corner of the property line. The noise would stop once the end of the fence was reached. When it happened a third time I really took notice.

I wasn't a fool. I'd seen all the spook shows where the girl goes to investigate a noise only to wind up dead. The last thing I wanted to do was find out what this noise was 'cause I knew whatever it was, it wasn't something I wanted to tangle with. But, I'm also a mother with children to be responsible for protecting. All the men but Cease were off working, trying to put things back together from the riot and keeping the D Team from making even more of a mess than they already seemed to be making.

James had been up on the roof earlier removing some rocks and sticks and cans that had been thrown up there. He hadn't ptu the ladder away yet and it was still propped against the side of the house.

There was another bump and then that swooshing sliding noise and then another. I couldn't stand it any more.

Even when all we had was the six food wooden fence I was too short to see over. Scott had designed the new metal fence to be even taller. Standing on my tiptoes I couldn't quite rich the top of it. That was one of the reasons why he put those keyholes into the fence … so I could have a way of looking out without having to go all the way around. But I'll be honest; I was too chicken to get close to the fence, much less look out one of those holes.

So I went to the ladder instead. I climbed the ladder slowly, one rung at a time. My heart was in my throat. I was finally high enough to see over the fence after I was about half way up the ladder. I froze. My brain didn't want to process what I was seeing very quickly.

The wire fence surrounding the grove had come down in a couple of places during the riot. They must have found the break in the fence as they were now coming through the grove making a bee line to the sounds generated by the demolition. Only one or two at a time but it was like watching ants. They followed one after the other moving in a single line.

A woman … or what used to be a woman … lurched out of the lowlands. She was dressed in a bra and what was probably at one time an expensive biege-colored skirt. The one high heeled shoe she was wearing looked like a Prada. It wasn't just the missing shoe that caused her to limp and sway. Even if she had had a second shoe, she had no foot to put it on. Everything passed her ankle was gone leaving a messy stump. There was something wrong with her face as well but before I could figure out what it was she ran into the fence. Bump. Bump. Bump. Then there was more noise from the demolition area and she began to slide down the fence towards the sound.

As she/it got to the end of our fence she tried to continue over to get to the sound but the little gully back there channeled her down into the canal instead. She fell in and disappeared into the cattails and other tall vegetation.

I heard another bang and this time the zombie appeared to be an older male, but it was hard to tell for sure. Most of his scalp was missing giving his facial features a kind of sagging droop. The zombie followed the path of the previous one, eventually falling into the tall vegetation of the canal right about where I pick elderberries. That would probably wind up in my nightmares at some point.

Finally I unfroze when Rose opened the back door and accidentally dropped a sack of a few empty cans and the next zombie reacted by continuing to bump up against the fence until a louder noise from the demolition site finally drew its attention again.

As quietly as I could I climbed down the ladder. Right as Rose was going to call my name I was able to wave her to silence as I rushed in.

"Get inside and drop the door."

"What …"

"Drop the door now Rose and get the kids and go to the family room with Pvt. Davenport."

I hurried through the house, stopping briefly when I saw Cease was awake. "Cease, I'm sending my kids in here to you. There's zombies in the orange grove and I don't want them on that side of the house."

"Yes, ma'am."

He was starting to say something to me when I continued out through the pantry, utility room and practically running headlong into Waleski who was answering the call that Cease had just placed to him, which was what he had been trying to tell me when I cut him off.

"Ma'am? Are you OK?"

"No. Zombies. In the orange grove. Now!"

He keyed his radio three times but never spoke into it. I found out later that was their "silent" emergency signal. When I went to continue outside to reach Scott and the boys, Waleski stopped me.

"Matt and McElroy will bring them all in ma'am."

"But I closed the roll down door on the back. Do they know to come in through here?"

"They will ma'am, in fact I see them now."

As soon as they came in I started explaining what I had heard and seen.

"They are coming across the road behind that overturned transport. From the lowlands right-of-way, across the street, through the orange grove where they run up against our fence. Then they follow the property line that goes down into the gully which funnels them into the canal. There has to be nearly 10 of the things in there by now, if not more. Most of them appear pretty messed up, but they can still move along at a decent clip," I shuddered.

I kept seeing that female zombie lurching disjointedly along on one high heel and a stump.  
Matlock took his radio, "D Team 3, D Team 3. Come in D Team 3 this is Patrol L. Do you read me?"

"D Team 3 here. What's up Sgt. Matt?"

"Stop screwing around Latimer. We've got a situation. Stick to protocol. D Team 3 this is Patrol L, do you copy?"

"Patrol L this is D Team 3. We copy. What is the situation?"

"Multiple NRS targets arriving via the lowland terrain and orange grove to your south west. D Team 3 do you have visual?"

"Patrol L this is D Team 3. Negative sir. We do not have visual."

I broke in, "Matt, the gully gets pretty deep before it dumps into the canal. Unless he gets up on top of a vehicle he may not even know a gully is there. Its easy to miss unless you know where to look."

"D Team 3 this is Patrol L. Get a look-out on top of one of your dozers. There is a gully that runs down the fence towards that canal back there."

"Patrol L this is D Team 3. Gimme a sec."

"Holy Mother of … Sorry … Patrol L this is D Team 3. We … we … have visual. Repeat we have visual. Minimum number of NRS targets is … is … crap they're moving around in the bushes too much … looks like a minimum of 14 in the canal area and possibly more. There are also more targets heading this way via the gully. Hold on a sec."

"Crap Matt, the spotter on the other side of the site said we've got another 7 or 8 NRS targets coming from that side as well. We're sandwiched and in need of assistance. I repeat our shooters are going to need assistance."

"D Team 3 this is Patrol L. Understood. We'll send assistance ASAP. Out."

Of course Scott wanted to know if there was anything he could do. Of course. I wanted to scream how dare he do that without talking to me first. But I didn't. I was learning and Scott wouldn't be Scott if he hadn't wanted to help. I could see David and even James were determined to help as well though James avoided any eye contact with me.

Thinking fast I said, "The roof."

"Excuse me ma'am?"

"I was on the ladder when I saw them. If you are up on the roof you can probably get a bead on them with your rifles any where from the lowlands all the way to the canal. You'll also have a better idea of the lay out and their travel pattern from up there."

Matlock looked at me like I had done some that was both expected and unexpected at the same time. "All right. Waleski you're on the roof with Scott. McElroy you're with me. We'll work our way over to the demolition site. Call signs remain the same. This house is Home Base. Ma'am please close and lock this gate when we exit."

"How will I know if you need back in?"

"Have Cease monitor the situation on his radio. If we need you specifically we'll call for … Mother Hen, OK?" The last he said with a wicked twinkle in his eye just to see if he could rile me up. He seemed to take a perverse enjoyment in that particular past time.

"Matlock I swear. How many times did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby?"

"Oh, more than a few if you listen to my ex-wife." And with that bit of humor to relieve some of the tension everyone dispersed to take up their positions.

I did what I was told even though a huge part of me wanted to be up on the roof. Not because I really wanted to be in on the action – though I'll admit to maybe feeling that way a little bit – but because part of my family was up there. Matlock wasn't too far wrong when he made my radio handle "Mother Hen." At least I could be thankful he didn't call me "Chicken Little" or "Little Red Hen." Matlock seriously enjoys teasing people and seems to find particular hilarity in my lack of height. Problem for me is sometimes I can't tell when he is teasing or when he is serious and that seems to make teasing me even more tempting for him.

I debated whether to stand by the gate but figured I'd do more good and get more accomplished by working around the house. I came inside and relayed the plans to Cease. Poor kid didn't seem to know where to look. His pride was obviously smarting so I tried to make him feel better. "I'm glad you could still stay with us. With you monitoring the radio and acting as back up we'll have a heads up in case things get … complicated." I don't know if that worked or if he simply appreciated me trying; either way he seemed to relax some and started entertaining Bekah by showing her how the radio worked. She's fascinated by gadgets of all types and his instruction kept her occupied for quite some time.

I put some water on to boil for macaroni. We had a nice breakfast of grits, biscuits, and canned ham but those boys, civilian and soldier, act like they're hollow from the feet up. I figured I better be prepared for them to need to eat sometime before dinner and made Salsa Mac 'n Cheese. For dinner I decided to make a Rice Roast with canned vegetables and instant mashed potatoes. It wouldn't be like Momma makes it but it would feel the empty spots.

I heard the guys scramble onto the roof. Why is it always in hindsight that you think of possible problems? What if, God forbid, they got stuck up there if the backyard was compromised? The roof is a fairly vulnerable spot if someone in the neighborhood wants to take revenge for a member of their family getting sanitized. And it may be the beginning of September but it was guaranteed to get over 100 degrees F up there during the day. Scott with his Hispanic heritage never burned no matter how long he was in the sun but James could burn pretty good on his face and ears, and I couldn't remember if he wore a hat or not. David has a farmer's tan that is so dark that I thought he was Spanish too for a while until I found out one of his great grandfathers was Chickasaw. Waleski however was blonde headed, blue eyed, and very fair skinned. He was gonna be toast without some sun protection.

Obviously I had no choice. OK, so I did have a choice but like I said, I'm every bit the mother hen that Matlock named me. He may have been teasing but that sort of stuff is almost impossible for me to ignore. Even though Welaski wasn't a member of my family I couldn't just let the poor guy fry when he was putting his life on the line trying to protect my family.

Just as I had finished convincing myself that taking supplies to the men wasn't just an elaborate excuse to check on them I heard the first shot ring out. Why I jumped when I knew it had to be coming I still haven't figured out. It was certainly louder than I had anticipated. The sound likely travelled through the ridge vents and into the attic, from the attic into the house. I guess our insulation up there isn't as good as we had thought. Add another notation for my list of things to be concerned about. Subsequent shots didn't bother me as much but Rose put headphones on Johnnie because the noise, so close, had begun to scare him.

I grabbed a laundry basket and filled it with water jugs, some old rags to wipe their faces with, and some sunscreen. I figured if they were up there for a prolonged period either they would come down in shifts to eat or they would be so grossed out they wouldn't want to eat at all, but they would still need drinking water. Just thinking of the two zombies I got a good look at kinda made my own appetite disappear. But guys seem to be a different species with different gross-out factors. They can clean a fish and butcher a hog or deal with a broken sewer line like it is no big deal. But, ask them to change a baby's diaper and most guys are heaving their toes up before they undo the first tape.

The basket was heavy and there was no way I could climb the ladder with it. I decided to tie a rope to the four corners of the basket and haul it up hand over hand. I snuck out the back door with my load. Standing in the back yard I could also hear the shots from the demolition site. It sounded like there was gunfire from other parts of the neighborhood as well.

I sat the basket on the ground and made my way slowly up the ladder. There were men up there with guns and I didn't want to startle them. That could prove unhealthy. Calling to them was also out of the question. The gunshots were already drawing unwanted attention from some of the zombies. Instead of one or two standing at the fence, there would be five or six lined up there at a time.

James must have noticed the ladder moving. He popped his head over the side and he wasn't happy to see me. "Mom! I knew it had to be you!" he said through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here?! Do you need to make sure we're doing our job the right way?"

I chose not to let him know how much that hurt. Instead I told him to take the rope and pull the basket up, and then I went back down without another word. I was fighting tears and there was no way I was letting anyone see that, especially not Scott. I would not make a scene, not when they needed all of their attention for more important things.

It might have been stupid, probably was, but I went over and started taking the clothes off of my clothes line. There were zombies on the other side of the fence. I could hear them. Smell them too this time. And there was gunfire. But I needed to prove to myself that I was willing to … I don't know … grab for normalcy I guess. I was hurt, but I wasn't beat. The zombies were screwing up so much of my life, so much of my family's life. The whole situation was affecting our relationships and I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

I had the clothes down and in a basket and had turned back to the house when I looked up to the roof. Waleski was looking at me like I was demented. I couldn't really blame him, though I think if he ever wants a long term relationship he needs to get over this constant surprise at finding out females don't always fit the historical stereotypes. Who does he think manned the castles and keeps and ran the farms while men went off to war? Personally I think that pouring boiling oil or tar onto people scaling castle walls had to be a woman's invention.

Scott was just shaking his head. He knew me well enough that he realized even in the midst of chaos I needed to maintain some control. The stunt with the laundry was just my way of thumbing my nose at what was going on. Kind of a stupid way, looking back on it, but it was still my way of saying damn the zombies, damn the rotten things coming with them, this was still my life and my castle and screw anyone or anything that tried to take them from me. When he caught my eye he just shook his head and hitched his thumb telling me to head back inside, enough was enough. I had made my point.

The gunfire – more like target practice than a battle – continued through the remainder of the morning and through out the entire afternoon. Its not that they were unable to sanitize the first crowd of zombies, it's just that they kept coming … and coming … and coming.

Not in hordes. Not even in crowds. They zombies didn't seem to have anything approaching a social order. I don't even think they are self-aware in a traditional sense much less able to work together. They just operate on instinct – on the need to attack or feed (or the semblance of it) – and seem to be attracted to noise. So they came one, maybe two at a time, in a steady stream attracted to the noise of the demolition. Shooters could pick them off fairly easily from a safe distance as long as they didn't panic.

Listening to the radio transmissions through out the day Cease said it sounded like all five of the D Teams were experiencing the same problem either to a greater or lesser degree. Everyone including the scientists were surprised at how many zombies there were. Apparently the recent riots had caused much more widespread loss of life than had originally been thought. Or the zombies themselves had done more damage. The effect was the same either way.

To me it appeared that zombies were like cockroaches. If you saw one, you could guarantee that there were more. If you saw a few you probably had an infestation. If you saw more than a few the infestation was already close to being out of control. That was a worrisome analogy however because we were seeing more than a few zombies. Way more than just a few.

By the end of the afternoon the flow of zombies had slowed to a trickle and from a trickle to none at all. Either all of the zombies had been sanitized or all of the zombies had been sanitized that were within range of the sound of the demolition. Whichever it was, over 100 of them had been put down for a final time just in our area alone. Authorities began to rethink the demolition ordinance but it could be days before any actions were taken to rescind the mandate. Either way, they would need to come and quickly haul the bodies of the newly sanitized away. They didn't smell very good to start with, but after they were sanitized the decomposition process sped way up and the odor was going to be unimaginable within 24 to 48 hours. Turkey vultures were already having a grand old feast and the smell was starting to seep through into the air conditioning system.

The phone lines appear to still be up in most of the state and I finally reached Mom on the third time that I tried. They haven't seen a single zombie up their way but they've heard Gainesville has had a large number of them; primarily they appear to be made up of college kids which is sad. I imagine some parents are trying to reach their kids only to eventually find out they've turned. That's more than sad, that would be horrifying for me.

Everyone was relieved to hear from us. Daddy wanted to know if they could download their computer files, pictures & movies to our MediaSmart Server, just in case. I said sure and gave them the access code. The thing has 4.5 TB of storage and I love it. It's the one thing in the house, besides the kids, that we will grab if we have to bug out or we have a house fire. Its been one of the best techie kind of investments that we've made because we've scanned all of our important documents, our pictures and movies, and it automatically backs up all of our important computer files – for all of our computers. And since you can access it remotely we've even been able to access those files off site. If my parents wanted to have an extra secure place to store their documents then I didn't have a problem with it.

But frankly, I left the "just in case" phrase alone because that conjured up too many bad things and I was topped off with bad things right now. When Daddy got on the phone I could hear how stressed he was just in his voice; not a good thing for his heart. He asked me if I had heard from my sister-in-law's family, their phone was out of order or disconnected. I told him no and said I didn't even think they would know how to contact me. My sister-in-law isn't handling things well at all. She can't reach her parents and she is threatening to leave and come back to Tampa to check on her family here. There was an awful fight where some nasty things were said including that she would take the boys and just leave. My brother told her to be his guest but it would be without his sons and she could hitch her way there because he wasn't driving her. The whole situation sounded grim. She's not talking to anyone at the moment and the boys are mad at her for threatening to move them from someplace they've come to love. As much trouble as I feel I'm having with James right now, at least our general home environment isn't an open war zone. I hope my sister-in-law can come to terms with things sooner rather than later, and not just for her sake.

Not knowing what to say that would be constructive I instead asked if they were taking any security precautions. They had boarded up the sliding glass doors – thank goodness – and were turning my brother's semi trailer into a bunker of some type. I'm not sure what all they are doing to it but my Dad is no fool. My brother isn't either though he sometimes acts like one. I am still scared for them, but not as much as before. They are using commonsense and trying to think ahead.

All the kids got to talk to my folks, even James who had come in for a break. I shared what was going on here. I had debated how much to tell them but my Dad had listened to the news. He knew how bad things are even if my Mom doesn't. I explained about our houseguests and let him know we were OK. I didn't ask him not to worry but I did remind him – out of Cease's hearing – how well set up we are and that we had taken quite a few additional precautions since they had been down. It was love you's and stay safe's all the way around and then I sat listening to the dial tone for some time before I set the telephone back on its cradle. I just didn't have a good feeling. Still don't though I'm trying not to let my imagination take control.

The D Team finished the demolition and most of the debris removal before dark. The last of their transports pulled out in plenty of time to meet curfew. The remaining debris removal, as well as the corpse removal – would be finished tomorrow.

Everyone returned inside fairly exhausted by the heat. While the men cleaned up in shifts I had Rose and the girls plate up dinner for those that wanted it. They sat around talked desultorily while I moved my plants back inside.

James came to help but the moment was ruined for me when he admitted, "Dad told me to give you a hand." I told him to never mind, to go back with the men where he preferred to be. He said, "Make up your mind" and then he simply turned away and walked back inside. That really, really hurt. I don't want to chain the boy to me but being cut off and somehow cut out of his life, a life I was instrumental in giving to him, is painful in a way I'd never experienced before.

Five minutes went by and Scott came outside wanting to know what was going on. It told him to let it go but he wouldn't. I explained things from my side and reminded him that he had been fussing at me about babying James.

"I'll talk to him."

"No. Don't. I know I brought some of this on myself. He's growing up and growing away. I just have to learn to live with it."

"I didn't mean for him to act like this."

"Scott. He's 15. You want him to be hard and in control. And that isn't a bad thing these days. But at that age everyone is all or nothing. There is no middle ground."

"Babe, I'll talk to him."

"Scott, please don't. He'll just either get confused or resentful, neither of which would be helpful. If things don't resolve themselves in a while then maybe. But, just let it go for now. I guess he just needs to make his stand."

"Don't shut me out on this Sissy. I never wanted you to get hurt. Don't blame me."

"Scott, I'm not blaming you. I never said I was. You aren't making the choices for him. You aren't telling him what to say. I may resent the way things are, but that doesn't mean I haven't accepted the reality of why things are the way they are."

We talked a little more while Scott helped me bring the last of my plants in and the first stars came out. Talking it out didn't make things better, but it at least made it a little easier to take for a while. I really don't blame Scott though I did at first. Boys can't hold onto their mother's apron strings forever and I never wanted that. The sudden changes being brought about by this whole mad situation are just hard for me to take. James growing up and away so fast. Rose suddenly and belatedly interested in boys, and not just any boy but a young man that we now have living in our home - and him apparently "interested" right back. Sarah and Bekah brangling all the time. Johnnie needing me and me not having the time to deal with his fear and insecurities like I need to. Little to no privacy for Scott and I. It had been a long day punctuated by moments of near normalcy; but there was still an element of illusion to it.

So many concerns to try and deal with. Besides all of the emotional stuff going on there were the physical issues. My plants had to produce, they had to. Feeding the soldiers is going to use up nearly all of the staple food items we got from Mabel's so we are back to square one. Sure, there is the soda and the junk food but those don't count 'cause they have so little nutritional value. That cushion I thought we were going to add to our supplies is gone. And though I felt I had stocked an amazing amount of food and supplies, I add almost as many items on to my "would like to have" or "need to have" list as I scratch off, every day.

Speaking of the soldiers, it appears they will be leaving tomorrow after the last dump truck hauls its debris away. I'll be glad to have our privacy back but at the same time I've become fond of them and they were an extra layer of experience and information. We'll be more vulnerable and out of touch with them gone. And I'll wonder what is happening with them. They are just returning to the Keel Outpost but from my perspective that might as well be as far away as my parents are.

I do have something good to report. Scott's van still runs. He changed the tire and put duct tape over the bullet holes (he needs some bondo to make the repairs permanent). The windshield is badly damaged but he can drive with it for a while. He's going to go out with David tomorrow. He figures to do it while the soldiers are still here "just in case." There is that phrase again – just in case. We need to know what kind of shape things are in at our properties. Scott will probably just be going through the motions of handing out 3-Day Notices to the folks who don't pay their rent. But, it's a blessing that the government checks were direct deposited into our bank account. At least we'll still be able to pay the most important bills. Thank goodness we set up the online banking. So long as we can still get online we'll be fine. If the internet goes down then it has really hit the fan and all bets are off.

Scott told me he still has some of the sugar daddy cash. He's gonna take that tomorrow and see if he can find any supplies. Mostly he wants to see if he can get the windshield fixed. He knows a couple of guys we used to rent to. He called them up and they are willing to fix the windows – they have the glass in stock – but only if he pays cash up front. We'll see if that actually works out. He and David plan on leaving at first light. They are taking the trailer which will give me some room to finally unload some of the supplies that are stuffed in the Avalanche. I plan to do that after Matlock and his boys leave.

James is already pouting like it is my fault that he is having to stay home. I guess he thought he would be helping Scott and David. Tomorrow is going to be interesting. But interesting I suppose I can handle … I just don't need dangerous or chaotic for at least a few days. And boredom would be extremely welcome if it wanted to hang out for a while as well.


	32. Day Thirty-Three

**Day 33**

This day has sucked. I'm sitting here pigging out on peanuts because I just can't seem to do anything else.

It finally just hit me. Even if the clock was stopped today on this whole, lousy zombie thing nothing would go back to the way it was before; at least not for a good long while. But I don't think ever. If I had to pick a point of no return it would either be when they blew up the exits from NYC or when Los Angeles went up in flames. LA and Chicago are both still smoldering. There just doesn't seem to be the will to stop the destruction. They are even using the fires to toss NRS infected corpses into for disposal. I mean, how much more frugal can the government get? Rather than waste the juice on an incinerator they use the fires of the cities as crematoriums.

Yeah, that's the way I've felt today. Depressed and pessimistic, even about the people who are supposedly trying to make things better for us. I know the NRSC is necessary, I just ... the trust is gone.

Don't really feel like writing much but I have to bleed off some of this poison some how. Scott's in no shape for me to lean on. He and David both are suffering from melancholy after what they've seen today.

After what I've heard from them I realize things aren't normal no matter how badly I want them to be. It cannot be normal to have a garbage truck squishing over a hundred dead bodies into its cavity. It cannot be normal to watch blood and other bodily fluids running out of the garbage truck, pooling at the sides of the road. I have heard the term "the streets ran red" many times, but this is the first (and I pray the only) time that I've actually seen the reality. So much blood and gore that it took hours for the sand to absorb it all.

The smell was horrendous. There is simply nothing I have to compare it to. It was even worse tthan the time we came back from vacation to find out our freezer had died and taken all of the meat in there with it. And the flies. It was disgusting, they buzzed everywhere. A couple got into the house and it nearly drove me nuts. It's not that it took very long to kill and dispose of them; they were full and slow because of their gargantuan meal. It's that they made me feel like I needed to scrub the whole house top to bottom with disinfectant because I didn't know where all that had landed. My skin crawled for hours afteward. I still imagine I hear the buzzing at all of the windows.

I just have nothing good to say for this day.

Scott and David left at first light and barely made it back before curfew, driving me nearly to the brink of nervous collapse. Every what-if that came into my head was a worse scenario than the one before. When they did come home they brought bad news all the details of which I just can't get into right now. Suffice it to say we have two units set for demolition, several more that appear abandoned and Scott didn't collect a penny of rent. We also have damage of some type or other on most of the units … more than we can afford to fix without insurance settlements.

Mabel's house is completely gone barely leaving a memory of itself behind. I never liked having someone looking down into our backyard like that but having the house gone creates this huge gap that is eerie and hard to get used to.

Matlock and his boys are gone. They left before lunch and though they were only here a few days, they've left a gap of their own behind. Matlock, Waleski, McElroy, and Cease … will I ever see them again and if I do, in what kind of shape will they be in? Four fewer adults means four fewer adults to share the security load with.

I was out front trying to accomplish something constructive by sketching out new plant beds – James normally enjoys helping me with this but things still aren't going well in that direction. As I was out there a couple of folks from the neighborhood showed up. I thought they had come down for some conversation or information but apparently all they wanted was an argument. I just didn't have the energy and told them so. When I wouldn't play, they took their ball and went home but left bad vibes behind to infect me even more.

I've never had such a bad day with the kids. James was making things more difficult for me by instigating arguments and bad behaviors with the younger three kids. He's never ever acted like this, not even on his worst hormonal days. Rose got fed up with him and told him off and then he said some hurtful things about her crush on David. I finally laid into him and told him if he wanted to be treated like an adult he could damn well start acting like one and to drop the Machiavellian manipulation, he wasn't getting his way. Adulthood came with more responsibilities than rights and that included putting the needs and desires of others above your own. I don't doubt I've made things worse between us but at least he stopped causing problems with the other kids.

The power flickered on and off several times today and with my nerves shot I burnt dinner. You know it is bad when you burn an easy meal like rice and beans. Not that anyone was hungry. The smell of decomposing bodily fluids permeated everything. Scott said he could smell it blocks away.

The evening news reports sucked too despite the segments being varnished with a type of optimism. You could tell the newscasters didn't really believe what they were saying. Some of them were blatantly reading prepared statements off of the teleprompter. Wonder how long they'll last in front of the camera? Civil disobedience is one thing, but what they are doing could get them into some serious trouble.

Well, writing it all down didn't help after all. I have a feeling nothing is going to help; not for a long time. I'm off to bed where Scott and four of the kids are already asleep. James chose to return to his bedroom but I can tell he isn't asleep, merely tossing and turning. I don't know why I should bother trying. After a day like today why would I want to go to sleep when I'm only going to have to wake up again tomorrow?


	33. Day Thirty-Seven

**Day 37**

It's been a few days since I've written in this journal. I guess I was very depressed and out of sorts for a bit; we all have been to one degree or another. For the guys I can see it as a reaction to Demolition Day and all of the NRS zombies they had to sanitize. I don't know what my excuse is. I think I'm beginning to shake it off but it hasn't been easy stopping the downward spiral. The depression was so different from my normal state of being that it caught me and chained me before I even recognized what was happening.

Things are still bad. There is no way around that. Things aren't going to change though unless we are in some kind of shape to try and change them. I finally pulled out of the nose dive when I realized the kids didn't want to do anything but lay around. No music. No TV. No bickering or talking. No toys. No appetite. No nothing, they just laid there. It snapped my head back like a good slap. The kids follow our lead. We are the ones that set the tone. I can't believe I let them down like that. Scott and I have talked some during the day when we could get off to ourselves. We have to be more careful, its too easy in such an awful situation to become your own worst enemy.

First thing I did was make everyone bathe whether they thought they needed it or not. The continued stink of the decomposing muck out near the road was depressing enough, having our own bodies stink because we weren't taking care of ourselves was unacceptable. I also gave the guys overdue hair cuts. Even James was complacent for this which went to show how bad things had gotten. He is very particular about his hair. I had never cut the guys' hair before and the results were … interesting.

Today, though we had slept passed breakfast, I fixed a good lunch. We had been living off of the junk food from Mabel's because I just hadn't felt like cooking. My mesclun greens were finally ready for harvest and I made a big tossed salad. We all desperately needed some fresh food in our diet. To go with the salad I made Asian Beef and Noodles with some oriental flavored Ramen noodles. The Chinese vegetables had to come out of a can and the ground beef as well, but it wasn't bad. At first everyone just kind of pushed their food around on their plates but as soon as they got a few good bites down, they fairly inhaled the rest. I think I'm going to have to continue to explore other creative options with regard to food. Even if all we have to look forward to on any given day are interesting meals, then at least that will be something.

Just for fun, though it could easily be considered a waste of resources these days, the kids and I made Vinegar Candy. It used a full two cups of my good granulated white sugar but sometimes you have to sacrifice. The kids had a blast pulling the candy once it had cooled enough to handle. Even James and David deigned to get their fingers sticky. After the candy had been pulled until it was glossy, I cut it using kitchen shears and set it aside for later. It wasn't really about the candy per se. Lord knows we'd had enough of that the last few days. It was more about the intentional act of having fun, something that we hadn't been doing enough of.

The laundry had backed up again and I noticed that the water in the pool was low. A few other things were standing out that needed doing as well. I gave each of the kids a short list of chores to accomplish just to give them some exercise. I didn't want to overload them, just get them up and moving and focused on some goal-oriented activities.

My next order of business was to get another batch of bread starter going. This time I didn't make Amish starter however. This time I made Herman Bread Starter. It doesn't take nearly as long as the Amish Bread Starter and isn't quite as sweet and uses a packet of yeast to get it going. I will be able to use it in 24 hours or less. Today was candy and tomorrow I'm going to make a cake … an Orange Raisin Cake to be exact. I know I have a couple of tubs of cream cheese frosting somewhere in the supplies that will be perfect for this recipe. Its more important than I realized to have something to look forward to.

James kept giving me funny looks like he wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to this sudden shift in the way everyone was acting. I just ignored him in favor of talking to Scott and David about some of the bigger things that I needed help with. I never had gotten around to emptying the Avalanche. And it had been a couple of weeks since my van had been started up; it was pretty useless right now but I didn't want it to die completely from lack of upkeep. Scott had to take another tire off to use for his van, now I'm missing two shoes for my poor taxi. It was amazing to think that it had been over a month since I had driven, since I had stepped more than a few feet from our yard. I know its true but it just seems so surreal.

One of the chores I set myself was to get outside and work in the yard a bit to get some sunshine. With the shutters closed its just plain dark in the house all the time but I can't imagine opening the shutters either. One thing holding me back from opening the shutters is that we've had a couple of people throw stuff at our house. And yesterday we noticed that it looked like someone had tried to cut the hasp and chain that secures the enclosed carport. I don't know if it is people from the neighborhood or not, but it looks like we need to add some security in that area if possible. If we can find a roll down door some place David said he learned how to install them last summer when he was working for an aluminum company. They built and installed pool & patio enclosures, storm shutters, and garage doors. Tomorrow he and Scott are going to go by his old boss' place and see if they can work something out.

While I was outside I noticed where it looked like someone had started digging under our fence. Again, I can't say for sure if it is someone from the neighborhood but I don't have any reason to believe that it isn't either. I'm nearly positive it wasn't there on Demolition Day, then again nearly isn't 100%. After I showed Scott he said it could have been done by an animal. None of us is certain what caused the gap; however, that didn't mean we were just going to let it go. The guys spent most of the afternoon cutting rebar and old fencing material into two-foot lengths and sinking them eighteen inches into the ground about every six inches or so. Eventually Scott wants to further secure the base of the fence by pouring a concrete footer but that's nothing that we are going to be able to do right now. No supplies and no expectation of being able to get them.

While hunting for more problems with the fencing I discovered I had several bunches of grapes growing on my arbor. It would have been easy to miss them as they were tucked up into the leaves on the underside of the arbor. I had absolutely no grapes the last few years so figured I had planted the wrong kinds of vines or something. The surprise gave me a really good feeling; like there were still some good surprises coming down the road, not just bad ones. The grapes weren't as sweet as those I used to buy at the farmer's market but they were ours and somehow tasted all the better for it. Of course I would run into a snake while clipping the bunches off. Scared the dickens out of me but also explained why the raccoons hadn't gotten the berries either. Lucky for me it was just a big black racer and not a moccasin, we've had a few of those in the yard over the years because of our proximity to the canal. It didn't strike me but it wasn't happy to be disturbed either. Reminder to self – look where you are putting your hands before you actually put your hands any place, and wear gloves.

None of this is to say that there aren't still zombies around. What happened tonight highlighted that pretty well, and also gave a possible reason for them.

The NRSC learned a lesson with the D Teams. They are using the demolition areas to draw NRS infected corpses out and pick them off a few at a time. Makes sense in a macabre sort of way. I think this may be what is keeping the zombie population under control here in the Tampa area. But the fact that they are still drawing that many zombies out … usually a hundred or more per site … says that we have a serious, serious problem and as soon as they run out of things to tear down we could quickly be hip dip in zombies.

None of us has seen Matlock or his patrol team since they left. I'm trying not to feel pushed aside. They have a job to do and it's not like we live in each other's pockets. They aren't beholden to us either. I just thought there might be a real friendship there; a camaraderie. Maybe I'm expecting too much. I would have at least liked to have gotten word on how Cease is doing. But that's me; over involved again. Maybe Scott can stop by Keel Outpost and find out something. They'll think I'm nuts no doubt, but it will relieve my mind.

Everyone was pretty worn out by the time dinner rolled around. I made French White Bean Soup and some corn pones. Clean up was just about all the girls and I could accomplish. James loaded the dishwasher without being asked. That move would have been weird even when we weren't at logger heads. I don't know what it signals, if anything, but I decided to take it at face value and told him thank you. I'm not going to make more of it as I could just be wishing for something that isn't there.

Suddenly life became interesting again ... unfortunately. I pray that nights like tonight aren't going to become our new normal.

I was just about to tell the kids that it was bed time when I heard something in the backyard. David and Scott had taken out the garbage just a few minutes earlier so I thought it could have been them but something – woman's intuition maybe – told me that whatever it was, something wasn't right. I grabbed the baseball bat that was by the door, signaled to James that we had a situation, and quietly went outside by crawling under the rolling door. I was momentarily blinded by the dark but could hear some goings on over near the shed. That wasn't Scott or David. As my eyes adjusted I could see someone on the ground and another someone being punched while held by two others. So that gave me a three to two ratio.

I don't know what came over me but by God I was tired of being scared all the time. Those weren't zombies. Zombies don't work together like that. I thought about getting one of the guns but there wasn't time … 'nother lesson learned, never leave home without more protection than a baseball bat. Besides with it being as dark as it was I could've missed my target and hit Scott or David. I'm not sure enough of my accuracy and can't waste ammo on target practice. Eventually I'll need to get some experience but it was too late at that point. I got up on my haunches and stayed low and silent while I crept over to the side of the shed. Now that I was closer I could see it was Scott on the ground and David taking the beating.

A cold disconnected feeling came over me. I remember thinking that I was going to kill them, literally. That's all there was to it. They had hurt my family and I was going to make sure that they'd never get the chance to do it again. The only other time I had felt this strongly was when that guy had scared Rose on the playground when she was little bitty. I had made up my mind and I don't think General Patton himself could have stopped me at that point. There was nothing to stop me at that point, except my own lack of skill.

I stood up and right as I was about to bean the guy that was pummeling David, the guy turned around. I caught him right in the jaw and I heard a crack and he dropped. The other two guys let go of David but didn't run like I had expected. David grabbed one and held on while the other pulled a knife on me. From out of no where James showed up. The guy that David was holding onto slipped out of his grasp and met James head on, but James' tackle took them both down to the ground. Scott was just beginning to come around and saw the guy with the knife coming at me and even though he tried to get between me and the knife-wielder he too got tangled up with the guy that James and David were wrestling with on the ground.

I took a swing at the intruder with the knife but missed. Something my male cousins had taught me when we were all growing up played over in my head. Once you start a fight you have to be the one to finish it. If you are using a weapon don't ever just swing, slice or jab in one direction. Keep in perpetual motion and keep your opponent on the defensive. I had swung from right to left and missed. After the first swing, I counter swung bringing the bat from left to right – and caught the guy just as he again had stepped in to slice at me with his knife. But left to right isn't my strongest direction 'cause I'm right handed. It was only a glancing blow and didn't disable him; startled him but didn't slow him down. So as soon as I had gotten the bat back on the right side I swung right to left again with everything I could put into it. Pop! I mean I heard his head literally pop. It was a nasty sound and I knew even then that I was going to be sick when I had time to think about what that sound meant.

Then there was a muffled "wump" from the pile of wrestlers on the ground. Everyone lay still and I was getting worried because no one was moving. Scott untangled himself first, then David. James and the other guy weren't moving. Before I could get to him Scott gently moved James into a stream of moonlight. His face was as pale as the moonlight and there was blood on his shirt and near his neck. I started to hear a buzzing sound in my ears and then James groaned. Scott and David were lifting his blood soaked shirt but we didn't find a wound. The blood had to have come from one of the intruders.

A noise behind me had me turning. The first guy I had clipped was up. He shouldn't have been up. He was a mess and his temple and jaw area were badly misshapen. Intruder #2 on the ground started moving and making this keening kind of noise when he finally registered his own wound; the kind of noise animals make when they are too hurt to growl. Intruder #1 fell on him and started gnawing on his throat which caused an arterial spurt that nearly hit David in the face. Scott pulled James into his arms and backwards, but they were still all but on the ground next to the new zombie and his first meal. David found his pistol where the intruders dropped it when they had surprised him. He stepped up to the back of the zombie's head; it never even looked up as he pulled the trigger. He then put the pistol to the forehead on the one that had his throat torn out and pulled the trigger again. We all turned expecting to see Intruder #3 rising; but, either my initial attack had damaged the brain sufficiently to prevent reanimation or he was one of the immunes. Either way he appeared to be good and permanently dead. David didn't take any chances though and placed the pistol against the corpse's ear and pulled the trigger for the third and final time of the night.

When my hearing returned to normal I could hear Rose crying from the door way. She wasn't wailing, but she wasn't being quiet either. I ran over to hush her and the other kids. It was important that we not draw any more attention to this than we could help.

Scott and David helped James into the house. The worst injury appeared to be where the guy busted the base of his head with the butt of the gun. Somehow after that point the gun got trapped against the intruder's body and went off. He wounded himself and his partner turned zombie made the wound fatal.

Scott and I just looked at each other. We were law abiding citizens. We were just protecting our home and our family. But in my heart I knew that I at least had meant for those three cretins to die. We talked it over away from the children's hearing. I told Scott that I would say that I was the one that did it thinking perhaps they would go easier on a female. None of the guys would hear of it. James said he would take the blame because he was a minor and the most they could do was throw him in juvenile detention; no one was having any of that either.

Scott then said something to the effect that, "Setting aside the fact that Florida's state laws are pretty lenient when it comes to self defense, we are citizen deputies. That means that we not only have the right, but the responsibilities of that position. We can use that to our advantage. I know for a fact one of those responsibilities is to help with corpse disposal. Normally I wouldn't try something like this but those guys did turn zombie. What I propose is that we turn them in as zombies and not as the intruders they were to start with. We'll haul the bodies to a checkpoint tomorrow, show them our papers, and let it go at that."

I wasn't … still am not … convinced that will work but the other alternatives that we discussed weren't any more viable. The next best thing would have been to bury them in the orange grove but if they have relatives in the area and they trace them back to us we could be in for more trouble. I didn't recognize their faces, but that doesn't mean they aren't from around here or from on the other side of the canal.

The plan has been made. The bodies have been rolled up in a tarp and are in Scott's trailer. Scott and David leave at first light and then I guess we'll find out.


	34. Day Thirty-Nine

**Day 39**

Another day of journaling missed yesterday. Looks like I'm falling into a bad habit. My excuse for this miss was because all of my energy was used up fighting my nerves. As luck would have it, the phone service went down right after Scott and David left the house yesterday fouling up our communications plans. We really need to find a back up for our cell phones. I didn't find out what had happened until they got home right before curfew that night.

Apparently my nerves were for nothing which makes me nervous in another way. Crazy but that's how my brain works. Scott and David said that it was almost too easy to get rid of the intruders' bodies by turning them in at the check point. As smoothly as I wanted it to go, now I'm worried it was too easy and that speaks of other problems in the system. Definitely need to work on that "taking on more than is my lot to carry" personality quirk. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Don't borrow trouble. Living in worry invites death in a hurry. Etc. Etc. Etc. In other words I need to stop worrying so much and looking for problems that don't exist. Its just that nothing about this situation sits well with me.

Scott and David left at first light and headed straight for the University Area check point. When they arrived and explained things they were merely asked to show their CD papers. After the authenticity was verified they were told to proceed to the dump point. There were a few other people ahead of them, some of whom looked like they were really getting into the CD thing … "uniforms," badges, guns in holsters, etc. When it came their turn they opened the trailer that already smelled pretty rank, and opened the tarp. An NRSC inspector took some blood from each corpse and placed it on a test strip. This was the "official test" for NRS. All three corpses tested positive.

I guess it was good thing that David put a bullet into the brain of the third intruder even though I had thought it a little bit overkill. He may have been a delayed re-animator; he sure as heck wasn't immune like I thought. Unless the test was messed up … but why would they do that?

At that point things got a little bizarre and I swear one of these days we need to sit down and completely read those stupid papers on our rights and responsibilities as Citizen Deputies. Apparently in an effort to encourage CDs to do their "civic duty" there is a bounty for each sanitized corpse that is NRS positive that gets turned in to an approved check point. The bounty at this checkpoint include topping the fuel off in Scott's van without deleting any of our ration points and receiving three bags of groceries, one for each corpse. Other checkpoints offered different stuff and I guess no one really knew what would be available at any given time.

That was all there was to it. And now we know what the NRSC is doing with some of the confiscated items they collect from "zombie houses" scheduled for demolition. No wonder there is resistance to ending the demolition ordinance. The confiscated goods are what is being used as the "carrot" in their horse and pony show.

I guess what is bothering me about this is that I think this could cause some serious abuse of the system. Imagine if a CD develops enemies, or had pre-existing enemies. All a CD would have to do is create a situation where his enemy(ies) became infected. Poof. No more enemy. Now they are just an NRS creature. Put them down and you even get to collect a bounty. A reward for getting rid of people you don't like. I can see certain types of people thinking that would be a sweet deal too good to resist.

After they left the checkpoint Scott drove David over to his old employer. Mr. Driscoll himself, of Driscoll Aluminum, struck a deal with Scott. For three days of labor helping the Driscoll's to fortify their warehouse he would give them everything they needed to convert the carport opening to a roll down door and he'd also give them some scrap supplies that they didn't want to just leave laying around to be turned into projectiles.

That's where they were yesterday, today and where they will be tomorrow. Scott says it's more than fair considering they don't have to pay a penny of cash. It shows what a barter system has developed in the face of rampant shortage of goods and cash.

He told me Driscoll moved his family and the families of most of his long term employees into the warehouse. They are turning it into a castle. They've dug a well inside the main office and run extra sewer lines to the septic system to accommodate more bathrooms. They also subdivided areas off for family space, common areas, and storage. The whole idea of it makes me wish we could build an enclave of our own. Not particularly possible at the moment given the hostility that continues to exist in our neighborhood, but it sure would be nice.

While Scott and David have been working at Driscoll's I've been trying to get some constructive work done around the house.

Yesterday I finally got around to emptying the Avalanche. I can't believe that the stuff just sat there for as long as it did. There looked to be enough Mountain House meals to last a week for four or five people; makes sense since the Avalanche seats five. The selections were not all that great but I wasn't going to complain. There was a first aid kit that wouldn't have been out of place in a field hospital. I don't even know what a lot of the stuff in there is for. Rose asked for the first aid manual that came with the kit … it was more like a textbook. I was more than happy to turn it over to her as I sure don't have the time to read it right now. There were a couple of cases of bottled water which was great; but there were also a couple of those nalgene bottles with the built in water filters which will be nice for the bug out bags in Scott's van.

There were these nasty looking ration bars too. I've seen them in a few survivalist supply catalogs that Scott picked up at the gun shows he went to last year. Each bar has something like 3600 kcal and is scored so you can break off one "meal" or portion at a time. Supposedly they taste like a lemony shortbread cookie but I'm not tempted to try them. We've already been through the "taste test nightmare" trying to find protein and meal replacement bars that our family would eat. Some of those things really taste nasty; some of them like twice chewed cardboard. Scott fell in love with Clif Bars – they aren't all that great to me – and we've got a huge stash of them that we ordered online, including several flavors that we couldn't find locally. If I had to chose, I prefer the fruity ones to the chocolate ones. Yeah, I know, blasphemy. I'm just not that much of a chocoholic. I come closer to liking the Quest Bars but even those I'd have to be really hungry to eat, but I guess that is the point.

In addition to the other stuff in the truck there were some nice things for our non-food supplies though nothing out of the ordinary. There were a couple of different types of flashlights – shaker, wind up, solar, and the small little mag lights that take rechargeable batteries. Two radios – one solar and one wind up. A couple of tarps and a couple of those tools you use to break out glass in case during an accident (or under water) your vehicle door became jammed. You can also use those things to cut seatbelts that are stuck too. But looking over everything I'm still wondering how they thought they were going to cook their food or provide heat. They didn't even have rain gear or a tent; not even a sleeping bag. I guess either they had other plans, hadn't finished getting their bug out gear together, or hadn't really thought things through all the way.

Another one of the things I spent the day doing was putting a lot of effort into my garden. Next month we should start seeing the first fruits of my labor. I've never tried to grow quite so much all at one time. Its really challenging and space is quickly disappearing. I may not have any choice but to grow things in the front yard.

I feel so exposed when I'm out in the front yard. There is no protection there; nothing between you and the world. I already have some of my edible landscaping in front. Mostly herbs and edible flowers but I also have my prickly pears and my yuccas. I used to keep several of my potted trees there but we've moved all of those into the back.

Any time I was outside, front or back, James followed me around with a rifle in his hands, a pistol on his belt and a knife in his boot. He and I are slowly getting back on good terms but I'm not pushing it. It will be different from the way it was before. I'm still his mother and he's still my son, but the relationship has to change in recognition of the changing circumstances we find ourselves in. He's one of the "men" now, not my little boy. Still chokes me up to think about it but I've had no choice but to learn to live with it. I think he and David have talked about bunking together. That'll be interesting. James has never had to share a bedroom; David has spent most of his life with roommates of one type or another. But, if it works out it will take a weight off of my mind.

Rose has talked about moving back into her bedroom as well. While Scott and I will be happy to have some of our privacy back … oh heck … this is my journal and I might as well just get it off my chest. David and Rose are still just eyeing one another. Nothing overt or obvious, they don't even sit by each other or talk much. I don't think either one of them has even thought about actually making a move yet. It's like they are still getting used to the idea themselves. But if they do decide to pursue some type of relationship, and Scott and I aren't necessarily against it, I would prefer that there be some limits on temptation. With James bunking with David at least I can say that there is one check and balance in place.

We aren't sure yet what to do about Sarah, Bekah, and Johnnie. None of them appear the least inclined to move back to their bedrooms. Eventually we may move them into James' room which is directly across from ours. As long as Scott and I can still find some time to spend with each other I'm not going to worry about it right now.

Yesterday's meals were pretty mundane. Breakfast was oatmeal, lunch was canned ravioli (I can't stand the stuff but the kids like it), and for dinner I fixed Buttered Pecan Rice, fried canned ham, and a spoon bread with a can of creamed corn. The dessert was the Orange Raisin Cake and it was delicious.

This morning I made something Bekah had been asking for – homemade pop tarts. Basically you make a simple pastry dough and fill it with a thin later of preserves or similar. You bake it and there you have it; homemade breakfast junk food.

For lunch I made a loaf of Caramel Apple Pecan Bread in my bread machine – stupid thing just sits on the counter and hardly ever gets used – and then spread the still warm slices with peanut butter. For dinner I planned pasta with spaghetti sauce and another large mesclun greens salad. I wish I had thought to stock croutons but I didn't. Next time I bake regular bread, I'm going to try and save back the crusty ends and make my own croutons.

I know it doesn't sound like I've gotten much accomplished but it feels like it. At the end of the day I'm definitely ready for bed. We are still on the watch schedule. Scott takes first watch which gives him quiet time to work on his notes and business plans, I take second watch usually with James because I'm the lightest sleeper and am used to broken sleep, and David takes third watch because he is naturally an early riser. Each shift suits our individual strengths.

James' birthday will be here in a couple of days. And the holidays will be here before you know it. I haven't been thinking of any of that much but I guess I better. Some idiot on the radio yesterday thought he was being cute and said there was so many shopping days left until Christmas. Yeah, people needed to be reminded of that while things are going so crazy. I haven't heard him on the radio today, he wasn't in his normal time slot. Someone must have fixed his little read wagon and sent him packing. Guy was an obnoxious flake anyway.

I'm off to bed. Lots to do tomorrow. I want to try and make some vegetarian sausages so that I can fix Italian "sausage" rolls for dinner tomorrow. That means that I'll also need to make rolls with my starter at some point as well. I also want to try and rearrange some of the stuff in the pantry spaces. Getting to what I want can be a royal pain. And I may as well do another inventory at the same time. Fun … not.


	35. DAy Forty

**Day 40**

Oh my aching back. Between moving the plants in and out, gardening, rearranging the pantry storage areas and moving furniture around in the girls' bedroom – soon to become where James and David bunk together – I am sore and tired. For all that though I wouldn't change it. The ache is like applause for all the work I accomplished.

Scott and David took off at first light after a breakfast of powdered egg omelets and came home right as the sun was setting. Do you want the good news or the bad news first? Good news is they got all that they need and more to make some renovations to the carport enclosure. The entrance will be a solid steel roll down door like you see at the back of grocery stores and will be chain operated. They also now have enough materials to widen the carport by about ten feet and to tie it in more securely to the house. That will allow more room to maneuver in there for loading and unloading and will allow the Avalanche, Scott's van, and the trailer to all be secured at the same time. That just leaves my van in the back and its up on blocks and useless anyway.

Now for the bad news … the big honking load of it. On the way home Scott drove by as many of our properties as he could. The ones set for demolition were completely gone despite our objections. Scott has to go to the court house to apply to void our mortgage. We've lost all of our equity except what remains in the lots themselves; the lender has lost the remaining principle they were owed. And we've lost all future income from the property, not that we've been getting very much. We still haven't collected any rent this month except on the government subsidized units. The courts are not processing evictions – price prohibitive at $300 a pop anyway – so we are seriously considering putting a water utility shut off order in for those addresses where no money is coming in. At least this way the bill won't keep piling up and it'll be up to Tampa Utilities to turn the water off (which I've heard they've been prevented from doing due to their employees refusing to work under current conditions).

Scott arrived to check on the 6-unit (set of three duplexes) right as an NRSC Inspection Team was about to bust down the doors. Apparently the units were abandoned after a rumor swept through the neighborhood that the INS and NRSC had joined forces and were going to start deporting people. All of the tenants in those units were immigrants but with only work permits or school permits that could easily have been revoked under the circumstances.

Scott said it was like the tenants had all fled en masse. Roughly 85% of a five-block area was vacant. A couple of the units even had food on the table, now collecting flies and roaches, or TVs and radios that were still playing. Because Scott keeps his business licenses with him he was able to prove ownership of his units – oh goodie, no door breakage to repair – and he gets to keep the abandoned property from those six units if he wants.

The not-so-great news is that apparently the NRSC keeps this huge homeland security type database. He and David are on file as CDs so they got tapped to help comb through the whole area on the basis of familiarity. AND – there is no possible way for me to express how angry this next part makes me – James has to go with them tomorrow. I nearly had to as well but it looks like they still don't know about Rose and with Bekah and Johnnie still so young (they would have expected Sarah to stay by herself even though she is only 11) I got an opt out – this time. Depending on how many CDs get called in and show up they might also get something out of the other units. We aren't sure right now. Whatever works out, this means it'll be another couple of days before the work on the carport can be started, mush less completed.

Scott and David did a quick run through the units and brought home some stuff. They would have brought more but they ran out of trailer space and time. Lots of masa and corn meal, some dried peppers, lots of dried beans, some canned milk and canned cream, two cases of tangerine and pineapple sodas, a couple cans of coconut, and lots of other odds and ends marked "packaged in Mexico." The strangest were the dried shrimp. They kinda put my ick factor up a notch. Besides the masa I have to say that the best find was the case of Nido dried whole milk. Nido is one of the best tasting dried milks I've ever had and our Mexican tenants with kids usually keep several cans of it on hand.

David nearly went nuts over all the coffee he found. We aren't coffee drinkers. My dad was pretty strict and wouldn't let me even try it until I was in my teens so I've never really developed a taste for it. I'm more of a tea drinker. Scott's parents drank Cuban coffee so black and strong that it could practically stir itself. Scott developed an aversion to it after watching his parents have to clean coffee stains off of their dentures. David hasn't complained but I know he's happy to have it again. The happy little tune he was whistling as he stuffed it in the pantry made it kind of obvious. He'll have to fix the coffee himself though 'cause I don't know how to.

Most of my morning was taken up with gardening. The backyard is beginning to look like a jungle. I've got pots everywhere full of growing things. I've got potatoes growing in garbage cans. They've gotten so heavy they just have to stay outside. I hope that is a good sign. The vines I have planted are taking off. I had to plant them along the pool cage instead of the fence and they are getting out of control. I've got bucket after bucket of tomatoes and they are perking along very happily. Zombies don't appear to bother them at all. I can't wait; couple of more weeks and we should start to have fresh stuff much more regularly.

I did have a scare today that made me glad James was keeping a look out. I was out front weeding around my bee balm and chamomile when a dog came around. I mean a big dog. I think it was at least part English bull dog … the other part was probably wooly mammoth based on its size. Shinola on a shingle. I was on the ground up to my elbows in compost and mulch when I heard it charge me. James was just able to get in a shot at it to scare it and drive it off or it would have been on top of me. Since it ran off on its own and didn't linger I don't think it was rabid. James said it wasn't foaming at the mouth though I know that isn't necessarily a sure sign. But talk about nearly wetting my pants. You try being down on the ground when something like that rushes out of the bushes at you. The fact that it didn't give me any warning before it charged seems to me to mean that it was hunting. Great, as if zombies weren't enough. Now I have to worry about Joe Redneck's monster-sized dog taking a bite out of me too. Oh how I wish we at least had a chain link fence out front. But we don't so I might as well stop complaining.

The dog pretty much took the wind out of my sails so we went in to find that the girls had already made lunch. We had tuna fish wraps. I knew James was gonna be starving by dinner time so I asked the girls to help me get the Polish-Flavored Tempeh Sausages and the rolls to serve them on made a little early. The shelf-stable tempeh that I have doesn't have much of a shelf-life left so I might as well go ahead and use it. When its gone its gonna be gone unless someone from the local Indonesian or Asian population can get it to market. Same with my tofu which I have more of than tempeh. I actually know how to make tofu but it's a lot of work and can be a pain in the butt. I prefer to buy it. But since I do have them both, I might as well do something useful with them.

Rose supervised the preparation and cooking while I tried to decide which room would be best for the boys to move into. Sarah and Bekah's room is the largest. It's also at the front of the house. When we first moved into this house we closed in the original carport hence our need for eventually building a new one. One side of that room will be covered by the expanded carport so there will only be one window left to protect. Bad part is that it faces into the front yard. The accordion shutters cover the window but I think I'll ask Scott if he can fabricate some internal shutters as well from some of the scrap aluminum that Driscoll gave him. I dismantled the bunk beds and put them on opposite walls. I emptied the girls' bookcases and chest o' drawers as well as their closet. This way I don't have to move any of James' stuff out of his room. I moved all of the stuff from the girls' room into Johnnie's old room and hopefully David will move his stuff out of there tomorrow and into his new area. James moved most of his own stuff today. He even willingly moved his laptop and stereo into a shared space between their areas which surprised me. I seem to keep underestimating him. I don't know if that is because he is just really good or that I've been holding him back from being as mature as he could be.

I keep catching myself second guessing whether I've been raising the other kids right. I know that Johnnie is spoiled but I'm not the only one that has done it. He's been suffering a little bit from lack of attention, but I don't think its done any lasting harm. At least now he's learning how to play on his own more and not need constant entertaining. Sarah and Bekah need some attention too, but it seems that if I keep them busy enough they don't have the time to waste on bickering like they used to. Heck knows I need the help; especially because I'm beginning to wonder if we have another black out coming.

We've been experiencing a series of brown outs over the last two days. Its not that we lose power precisely, it's like we aren't getting enough juice. I'm not sure if we are seeing that in lieu of an outright black out or if this is like a foreshock or something. Either way while I was working on room rearranging I had James make sure that all of our water containers and the pool were topped off and that our solar gear was fully charged. I also gave Bekah the job of putting the NiMH batteries into the chargers and rotating them through until they were all fully charged. I have a solar recharger but it takes much longer than a plug-in electric recharger.

All of that took the rest of my afternoon. Scott and David came home and we had the Polish "sausage" rolls with baked beans (from a can 'cause I was too busy to make them from scratch). I got the story of their day and they got the story of mine and the kids'. I had a tantrum about James' having to go with them tomorrow and then had to spend time undoing by gaff by explaining that it wasn't because I was treating him like a little boy but because I counted on him being around here so that I could work outside. Lucky for me James was willing to be appeased. Two steps forward … luckily no steps back this time.

The national news was full of glowing praise for the NRSC but nothing was substantive. It's all about efforts and trying and plans and nothing about actual and current results. The local news was only slightly more balanced and mostly pertained to continuing clean up from the riots and the Governor's efforts to keep people working at something constructive whether they are actually getting paid at this point or not. The economy is a mess but apparently it is even worse overseas. China and Russia are doing their normal saber rattling … but this time it is at each other. That's worrisome. Not much of anything is coming out of the Middle East. I don't know if that is good or not. Africa is a mess and there is no way around that. From Egypt to South Africa countries are begging for international aid.

South and Central America is pretty well shot as well. Mexico is just plain messed up. Their currency has totally collapsed. Not even the drug cartels and gangs have much money. Who would have thought that NRS would go such a long way to curing the problems of the Drug War. People don't have money to buy drugs with and there isn't much for the cartels to buy with the money they do have coming in. It doesn't matter whether its luxury goods or food, everything is scarce. The black market for goods and services is actually doing much better these days than the cartels and in that they have to compete with a lot more people for business.

Canadian research has shown that little bothers the zombies; however, extremes in weather can affect their shelf-life. Extreme heat seems to accelerate tissue deterioration, not as quickly as expected but eventually connective tissue does break down enough to prevent movement. Extreme cold will freeze them which also prevents movement. However, because the brain is still viable since it is a non-moving part to begin with, the creatures are still infectious. The bacteria do not cease communicability until the host body's brain dies. No one is for sure why that is, but some scientists are continuing to hypothesize that since the bacteria are "connected" via nerve cells. If the brain – nervous system central – is destroyed, it is at that point that the unusual cohesion of NRS breaks down and shortly thereafter dies off. I'll take their word for it and do my best to use the answers they come up with to my family's advantage. Bottom line, to kill a zombie requires the creature's brain to be destroyed.

I'm an educated person but the science of NRS still makes my head hurt. I'll drop thinking of that in favor of saying the house is cleaned and the last load of laundry is going. I'm off to bed as is everyone except Scott and James who are taking first watch together this time. I'll take second by myself since James will be working with the men tomorrow. If I'm not too exhausted I may even let David sleep a little longer though I don't usually have to wake him; he really is an early riser.

Barring trouble breakfast will be hearty Corn and Bacon Cornmeal Muffins. I've already packed the lunch for the guys to take with them. Three polish dog sandwiches, canned fruit, canned pudding, trail mix, and water. I've also got some latex gloves and N95 masks just in case. Under normal circumstances you never know what you'll find when you are cleaning out a rental unit and these are far from normal times.

I hope I can get as much accomplished tomorrow as I did today. But most of the work is going to be inside because I just can't see myself working out front without a look out. Not unless I get brave enough (or foolish enough depending on your view point) to give it a try. Tomorrow I'm also going to try and reach Mom and Dad again just can't shake this feeling that something is going on I should know about.


	36. Day Forty-One

**Day 41**

I'm by myself tonight. Well, Rose and the younger kids are here but we are cut off from the guys. I'm not ashamed to say I'm badly scared and even more worried.

The day started out ordinarily enough. We had the muffins like I had planned. I made sure all of the lunch got packed into the van and the guys were on the run right after dawn. The phones were still working at that point so we agreed they would call me around lunch time and update me on how things were going.

The girls and I did some odds and ends like transfer the stuff Scott brought home last night into our pantry and add it to my inventory. Sarah worked on the basket of mending. Bekah and Rose did morning lessons with Johnnie. Just normal stuff. OK, the new normal but you know what I mean.

About 9 o'clock I figured everyone would be awake at my parents' place but it still took too many rings for them to answer. After he finally picked up the phone I could hear from my brother's voice that some thing was wrong.

My sister-in-law's family was sanitized. Their subdivision saw some heavy rioting leading to deaths … leading to zombies… they got caught in the middle of it. When officials finally notified her she became hysterical. She went on and on blaming my brother, my parents, the authories, God, and whoever else she could think of for about a day and a half and then yesterday she completely snapped. She's taken her car and disappeared. They've looked every where for her but she likely tried to head back to Tampa. Brother doesn't know what to do. He's reported her missing but she's an adult and its her car. There are a lot of people on the roster of missing people, she's just one more.

I thought that was the sum of the story until I asked to speak to Mom and Dad. He told me that the stress of my sister-in-law's behavior led Dad to have another attack. They don't think it was a full blown heart attack this time but it was definitely something. This of course has set my mom off who isn't always as strong as she used to be either. They are both still resting quietly for a while and I didn't get to talk to them. My two nephews are not making things any easier. They are both spoiled and high maintenance and my brother is not used to being their full time caretaker. Brother is at his wits end. I wish I could help but I have my own hands full, especially now. If there isn't any choice we could make room for them to come to stay with us, but I'd rater see my parents come here only I know that won't happen, especially not if my dad is reall bad off. I don't know what to do. I keep imagining I have seen my parents for the last time. And Scott's not here and I have no idea where he is or how he is. Nor James or David. My world feels like it is blowing up in chunks.

The phone call to my parents rattled me badly. It didn't help that Brother kept mentioning things like "end of life wishes," "living wills," and the new NRSC euthanasia initiative. Like I wanted to think about those things in connection with my parents. Like anyone would want to no matter how necessary it could become at some point.

To try and steer back to a more positive line of thought I told the girls we could make cookies as a surprise dessert. That took until lunch time which was just a salad since none of the big boys were home.

Midway through lunch Scott called and told me to turn on the news and to keep it on; the natives were getting restless again. The promised food convoys have not arrived as planned; only the food for the active military, activated National Guard troops, and the NRSC troopers. There weren't even any deliveries for the first responders like the cops or the fire stations.

Scott said they were going to leave just as soon as they could to make it home before things got bad, but the area had been cordoned off with armed troops. You could only get out of the area with a pass and the NRSC Lead Inspector hadn't started issuing them yet. The Inspector was pushing to get as much of the area inspected as possible. There were nearly 100 community deputies called in and in-fighting had started over who would get what. Some of them were hiding things so that the NRSC inspectors wouldn't confiscate an item they wanted. This time however the NRSC was much more thorough, moving through each vacant unit like locusts. They weren't being picky, they were picking everything unless the unit was tagged by the property owner. The other CDs looked at Scott as an interloper because he was a property owner in addition to being a CD.

I kept expecting them to come home even after it had passed curfew by several hours I finally had to give up and lock the house down because things were getting crazy on our end of town. Now I just pray that the guys are some place safe and secure.

Every time we manage to achieve a period of near normalcy it seems like something comes along to kick us in the shins. I'm trying not to get discouraged but its hard.

No one felt like eating much for dinner, not even Johnnie who I think may be coming down with something. I sent everyone to bed as early as possible except for rose who sat up with me until the power flickered off a couple of hours ago. We used the time to discuss some "womanly" stuff and at least it has given me some confidence that she isn't as likely to let her feelings for David to get out of control as I had worried.

I tried texting Scott but I never heard back. He may just be saving his batteries or maybe the texts aren't going through. I wish I knew for sure which it is.

The riot is spreading. As bad as it was last time it seems worse this time. As I was checking to make sure everything was locked down one final time I could hear sirens and gunfire to the south, east, ad west of us. Nothing to the north o far but there is an enclave up that way of well-armed families from what I've heard. I wish we had more people we could depend on and share the burden with.

I need to turn the lamp off in case I need it at some point. I hope the rain that has started to fall will calm things down but it could just as easily make things worse.


	37. Day Forty-Two

**Day 42**

No time to write except to note that they still aren't home. I hate the smell that lingers after a gun has been fired over and over. I hate the images that I've been left with even more. My hands, shoulders, and back are a mess. I know a lot less about guns than I thought I did. I've had to learn on the fly. At least I haven't shot anything off ... at least nothing that belonged to me or mine.


	38. Day Forty-Three

**Day 43**

Too tired and too scared. Where are they?! I need help! Johnnie is bad sick. I don't know if it is food poisoning or just some virus he picked up some how. I can't sit with him ... I have to keep a look out. God bless my girls; all three of them are doing a woman's job when they shouldn't have to yet. Especially Rose ... oh Lord please don't let this break her.

I don't know which is worse ... the idiots who just won't seem to stop, the zombies, or us poor fools that are caught between the two. Please God, let Scott and the boys come home soon. Let them be OK. We need them desparately. I can't hold out much longer on my own.


	39. Day Forty-Four

**Day 44**

I just realized that tomorrow is James' birthday. Will I ever see my son again? What about Scott? And David?

Johnnie has finally turned the corner I think, or at least his fever has broken. His fever was really bad ... scary bad ... take a midnight trip to the ER bad. Only there aren't any ERs open in our area anymore. I'm beginning to wonder if there is anythng open in our area any more. I'm wondering if anything is open any where any more. I can't pick up any broadcasts on the radio and the TV hasn't run for a couple of days now.

Things have finally quieted down. I complained before because things were too crazy and noisy. Now I'm complaining because things are too scary and quiet.

I can't reach my parents' place. I'm going to write this down once and then I'm never going to think about it again. I thought I saw my sister in law. It was hard to tell from the roof and it was a ways off into the orange grove ... but I could almost swear it was her. I'll never tell my brother. Never. What was left of her ... or the woman that looked just like her ... was a nightmare come to life. So, I'm not going to think about it any more.

I can't reach Scott. If it was only me I'd go looking for them. But it isn't only me. I have the kids to think about. I have to ... I have to ... I keep forgetting what I mean to write down. I know I need to do something only I can't think what it is right now. I think maybe I just need to sleep. Only I can't. I'm sitting here trying to stay awake. Something might start up again.

At least all the screaming has stopped. That was worse than all of the gunfire. I can't even hear any animals. Its like every living creature has found a hole and pulled it in after them.

I've got to ...


	40. Day Forty-Five

**Day 45**

James' birthday ... but I got the presents. Plural. My guys are home. Not necessarily in one piece, but they are safe and home. And we've got company.

Will try and write more later. Things are a mess.


	41. Day Forty-Seven

**Day 47**

I meant to explain things earlier but I just haven't had the energy. I'm sick with relief … literally … I've got whatever Johnnie had and I'm just now getting the fever under control. The girls are down with it as well. Scott, David, and James are doing the best they can but they are in sad shape, especially Scott who had to have a bullet removed from his calf. And then there are our guests.

Things have happened so quickly and been so complicated that the only way I'm going to make my explanation coherent is if I start at the beginning.

Back on day … 41 I think … Scott and the boys were fine until lunchtime. They were able to work on our units and avoid the hostility of their fellow Community Deputies. Mostly. From Scott's description some of those people sounded pretty menacing and vindictive. For example, one of them dropped a tool and James picked it up and ran it over to the guy who had dropped it saying, "Excuse me sir, you dropped your …" The guy turned around and slammed James to the ground and would have hurt him if Scott and David hadn't run over and intervened as quickly as they had. As it was the body slam he took left him sore for days. There are still bruises on his back despite almost a week going by.

An NRSC agent saw the incident and reported it to a patrol Captain. The captain, apparently no fan of this man due to previous run-ins, had the other CD evicted from the area and red tagged him for a disciplinary hearing. The guy's friends took exception to that, of course, and basically harassed my guys from then onward, even after the fighting really got started.

While Rose, the kids, and I were sitting down to lunch, Scott was receiving word that a small burglary attempt at the Ice Forum downtown (where some of the supplies for the NRSC were being stored) had escalated into a riot. And that the riot was expanding out of the downtown area and into the Bayshore and Westshore Districts. An hour later violence was popping up all over the place like it was being orchestrated.

The Lead Inspector for the area where Scott was appeared more savvy and realistic than former Inspector Lawrence had been but he was just as driven and intent on finishing the assignment. "Was" being the operative word. The first sign of violence in the cordoned off area was a shot that came out of no where and pierced the Lead Inspector's chest. He died and reanimated very quickly which meant that he had probably been exposed to NRS in the course of his work. Things were already chaotic with CDs and NRSC troopers running all over trying to tie up loose ends so that the job site could be shut down. But when the Inspector's reanimation occurred it injected pandemonium into the bedlam.

After that, mobocracy ruled. Scott said it was one of the most insane situations he has found himself in to date. It was every man (or woman) for himself or herself and damn the consequences. Commonsense seemed to have fallen by the wayside. It took a while but the NRSC troopers finally brought most of the CDs under control, those that hadn't already fled the area anyway. Every trooper patrol then had at least two CDs attached to them and went around sanitizing all of the corpses that hadn't already reanimated. If a body was on the ground and unmoving, or didn't respond coherently it was assumed to be a potential zombie. A single head-shot was delivered point blank. A few of the bodies may not have been all the way dead, but it didn't matter. No medical assistance was coming. One of the NRSC training statements is "better to be zealous than to be a zombie." Even if their actions were not moral, they would be covered by the new NRSC euthanasia initiative. Anyone close to death with no reasonable expectation of immediate medical assistance could have a writ issued to be euthanized. In an emergency the legal writ could be waived so long as an agent of the NRSC delivered the sentence. NRSC agents included active duty military, those called to active duty (retired military or National Guard), first responders of any variety (cops, firemen, etc.), and CDs acting in their legally defined role.

James was left at the six-unit while Scott and David were assigned to different patrol units. He had wanted to go with them but was prevented by one of the NRSC officers. He was scared to death to be separated from them both. Scott sure as heck wasn't thrilled to be separated from James but one of the NRSC captains promised to look after him.

While Scott ad David went through the neighborhood they tried to think of a way to get out of the area but the van was blocked in by a couple of NRSC transports. It would have been too dangerous to try and leave the area on foot. It didn't take long for the fighting to spill into the streets in the cordeoned off area where they were and it woudn't be long before it got dark. This sent all of he patrols scurrying in different directions. Scott headed straight back to where James was and since he knew what shape the doors and windows were in on his units he and the boys decided to stick close to the van and hole up in one of those apartments regardless of what the other CDs chose to do. Several NRSC troops and a couple of CDs who hadn't made it out either also took refuge in the units with them once the fighting in the street became too heavy to move around the area. It simply made sense to pick a concrete block building over some of the other newer and more expensive buildings that were only constructed of stucco or wood.

The transports blocking the van turned out to be a blessing in disguise. They took the brunt of a lot of the gunfire, and rock and bottle throwing, leaving our van mostly unscathed. We did lose a rear window, a hubcap, and add a few more bullet holes but it could have been worse. Most of the other non-military vehicles were damaged much worse.

As far at the guys that had taken refuge with them, Scott said the NRSC troopers weren't a bad lot. One or two of them were a little too impressed with the picture they made in their scary black uniforms but you get that kind of thing in most career fields. They were a mixed bag, some seemed to have real battlefield experience but there were a couple that were nothing more than former mall cops. It didn't take long to separate the real deals from the wannabees.

The CDs exhibited even more variety. A couple of them were OK, but there were some real jackasses in there too. Some of them tried to push David and James around until one of the NRSC captains told them to knock it off or go find themselves another hidey-hole. One of them, apparently a friend of the evicted CD, continued to try and pick on James until an NRSC Sgt. put a boot to his rear. Apparently the man, named Sam Dixon, had a son about James' age. He was unhappy with Scott for bringing James into things until James told the Sgt. how his dad hadn't been given a choice in the matter. The Sgt. then had a few colorful words for the administrative arm of the NRSC.

All of them were stuck in the six-unit until the next morning. The rain had slowed the riot down but not by much. There was still too much gunfire to risk trying to make it out of the area. It looked like maybe one or more of the armories had been compromised and a lot of ammo stolen. During the night, since the curfew was in effect, authorities considered civilians – even CDs – to be unfriendlies. Not even Sgt. Dixon wanted to be out and he was as anxious as Scott to get back to his family which was being housed in one of the dormitories at USF.

When they got up the next morning things had deteriorated quite a bit. NRS was beginning to run rampant and unchecked. Scott and every one else holed up at our six-unit tried to keep things clear around the buildings. The problem with that was the more gunfire, the more zombies were attracted to the sound, which meant they had to make more noise with their guns which drew more zombies, and so on and so on; a real vicious cycle. Eventually, because of ammo concerns, they simply let the zombies roam where they would so long as they didn't pose an immediate danger.

While the guys were stuck at the six-unit I was trying to figure out what to do. The University Area riot had spread so far north that it began to spread into our neighborhood. I had dozed for just a few minutes when I was awoken by rattling at the front windows about 3:45 in the morning. No one was getting through the shutters but it still scared the bejeebers out of me.

I ran to wake Rose and Sarah up and told them to take Bekah and Johnnie to the shower room at the center of the house and to lock the doors behind them. That room is the one that we fortified in case of hurricane. It had a double layer of roof over it because of a house addition that had been made years ago. We had changed all of the doors from hollow core to solid. There were no windows and the linen closet was kept stocked with food, water, and our general storm supplies. It's the best I could do for them in terms of extra security.

Scott had taken most of the guns with him leaving me a single rifle. It was a .22 and about all I could handle anyway. Besides, I only had two hands … if I could only shoot one gun at a time I figured that was all that I needed. At least that is what I kept telling myself. So long as I could hit what I was aiming at – and I got lots of practice at that over the next few days – I didn't need anything fancy. The .22 did what I needed it to do. Well, it did after I actually figured out what I was doing.

After getting the kids settled and gathering the gun – which is something that I should have done right away rather than putting it off like I did – I started going from room to room and trying to figure out what was going on. There didn't appear to be any body in our backyard. Mostly they just seemed to be running from house to house to see if there was an easy entrance. If it wasn't easy they moved on to the next place. At least they did for a while.

After explaining to Rose what I was going to do, I snuck out through the pantry, through the utility room, and into the carport. I felt so exposed. There were walls and a gate up but it wasn't like having concrete walls. And everything echoed. Creepy.

From that vantage-point I could really hear the buzz of activity from a few streets over. I knew things were bad because in all the time that I was out there, and it must have been an hour, I never saw a single military patrol. I heard some breaking glass from up and down the street, some banging that I figured was doors being kicked in, plenty of raised voices, and a crap load of guns going off. I was feeling isolated. The canal behind us to the north, the orange grove to the west of us, and nothing to the east of us for over 50 yards now that Mabel's place was gone. There is a white Victorian looking place that sits kinda kitty corner to us to the NE and then to the NW is the lowland terrain. Our road runs through the middle of it all.

Eventually sunrise arrived. Part of me appreciated it and part of me didn't.

The people that owned the Victorian were foreclosed on last year. The bank took it over and the place is all boarded up with ventilated plywood sheets; the ones that let just enough air circulate to prevent mold and mildew. Even the doors were boarded up and had cross beams added for good measure. I hated that because it always made the neighborhood look so tacky and run down. But I had more of a appreciation of it now. I could tell that no one had gotten in there and was using it as a base to spy on our home. To the east of us where the two subdivisions are … well it sounded bad down that way. Because the road curved I couldn't really see anything from the carport but there was a plume of smoke rising just over the trees in that direction.

Right about the time that I noticed the plume of smoke was when I saw the first of the zombies coming out of the lowland terran right of way. That's where they had come from last time. I don't know why they seemed to be getting channeled through there unless it had something to do with the geography and buildings in that direction. Maybe there was an artificial funnel behaving similar to the way the gully did behind us. Whatever, it meant that I had a much too good view of too many freaking zombies. There were new ones and old ones … both in their age at death and in their re-animated age. Some hardly looked like they had been hurt and some were in pieces. They all smelled bad enough to gag me. I eventually tied a bandana around my face to try and keep out some of the stink.

I didn't know what to do. The zombies were just kind of wandering aimlessly unless their attention was caught by the ruckus down in the subdivisions. When that happened they started off in that general direction. I called those idiots down there every kind of fool I could think of, including some that I made up. Enough people had pointed out that noise draws zombies that you would think that most people would want to hunker down but no … oh no … no, there are some real dim bulbs in this world and a bunch of them seemed to be occupying the area immediately surrounding me.

While I sat in the carport trying to figure out what I was supposed to do, several miles away Scott and the guys were trying to do the same thing. David said that Scott was getting pretty frantic at that point. The NRSC's radio had reported fighting in and around our area. It was a battle between keeping James and David and himself safe enough so that they could come back to us and dying tiny deaths every time he heard the reports getting worse, knowing I was home alone with the other kids.

Eventually the NRSC agreed to facilitate a convoy to the Keel Outpost. They would drop off the CDs that didn't have any transportation and the rest of the CDs could disperse assuming no one was called up for further duty. All of the working vehicles were lined up and the group headed out. Scott and his trailer was one of only a half dozen civilian vehicles that were still working by that time so they had to take some extra passengers which made for a strained and uncomfortabe ride.

Sgt. Dixon had a really good idea that they've since used on several occasions. The convoy was all set up to move but they knew as soon as they did the zombies would just follow them around, preventing them from finding sanctuary. What they did was create a diversion that would draw the zombies' attention far enough away – and keep it away – until they could move out. This time they took a couple of battery powered stereos and set it in a tree in the middle of a green space a block over from where our six-unit is. Then they turned the stereos up full blast.

Sure enough that caught enough attention that the convoy could head out unmolested. The few zombies that didn't take the bait were run over by the lead trucks. Scott said that running over the zombies is much better than shooting them and drawing further attention. Its difficult to get used to but you have to look at it the same way you would if an animal was to run out into the road in front of you. Do you get in an accident and get injured to potentially save the life of the animal or do you run over the animal and save your own life. For the people in the convoy it was a no-brainer.

The city was a mess. There were fires all over the place, over turned vehicles blocking streets and lots of debris that caused them to have to take numerous detours. One such detour had them rolling past the Driscoll Aluminum Warehouse. A small fire had started and been put out in the showroom area but for the most part it looked like Driscoll and the families in his enclave were holding up. The convoy got some waves from an upper window. Sgt. Dixon ran over to the fence to ascertain if they needed any help and was told in no uncertain terms that they were holding their own and didn't need, nor want, any help. He said that they actually told him that they didn't want any "interference" from the government. Good for them if they can hold out. They won't owe anyone a thing that way.

As the convoy began to roll up Bearss Avenue Scott said he had a feeling that things had gone wrong before they even rounded the last curve. There was too much junk in the road and too many bodies laying around ... not all of them sanitize. Keel Outpost, formerly Jimmie B Keel library, was located next to an assisted living facility, there were also a couple of similar facilities within a mile or so of their location. NRS had broken out in one of them and spread through the area rapidly. Keel Outpost had been overrun and retaken on three separate occasions. The first time by a mob, the second two times by zombies. The poor physical condition of the people prior to going NRS made them very slow if they were even mobile. Disused and atrophied muscles didn't respond any better to NRS neural commands than they had when the brain was still uninfected. Had the zombies overrunning the outpost been made up of more physically capable zombies the story might have ended up differently.

Once the convoy pulled into the outpost's parking area, many of the CDs started demanding assistance to get back to their own homes. Scott had tried to position the van so that they could pull out quickly and were considering their options when an old friend showed up.

"Damn Scott, can't you stay at home and out of trouble?"

"Look who's talking. What did you boys do? Invite every kook in town for a party? Looks like it hit the fan here a couple of times."

"Hit the fan? Hell yeah. Hit it and ripped it right out of the damn ceiling. It's good to see you, just wish it was under better circumstances. I tried to get back over your way but they reassigned our patrol area. What are you all doing out here? How is everyone else?"

Scott and Matt shook hands and did the guy thing a little while longer to see who could tell the biggest tale and the biggest exaggeration. Eventually Scott said he got around to what was concerning him most; getting home to us. Just as they had begun to talk about some options another contingent of rioters was spotted heading right for the Outpost. It wasn't long before everyone was fighting for their lives … again.

Back at home I was still at a loss about what to do. Did I stay really quiet and hope to avoid all the conflict? Or, did I make some kind of overt move to try and clear out the area? I voted to play it quiet and that is what I did for a while. Eventually I was driven inside by the need to use the bathroom and get something to eat. After I took care of that and checked on the kids – Johnnie was obviously sick by that point – I went to return outside. Even though I had just gone, when I stepped out into the carport I nearly wet my pants. There were two young men trying to break into the carport. Scott had reinforced the single chain in the middle with three chains – one at the top, middle, and bottom. It was a pain to get into but it made it harder to break into as well.

They spotted me a few seconds after I had spotted them. That was a heck of a moment to learn another lesson … never walk into an area blind. They started demanding that I open the gate and let them in. Yeah, like that was going to happen. Do I look stupid? Suddenly a zombie breaks in on their left and takes a big bite out of the face of the one closest to him. I could see his cheek stretch outward before tearing away from his face. The other man ran away, abandoning his partner to his fate. The guy was screaming and begging for me to help him. I knew he was already beyond help but … I stepped up and put the barrel of the rifle through the gate and pulled the trigger. The first shot killed the zombie. I brought the rifle back in, threw the bolt and then with the second shot hit the guy through the eye. I had jumped on the trigger too fast and had to use a third bullet to finally put the poor guy out of his misery.

I pulled the barrel back in and then promptly threw up the granola bar I had just eaten a few minutes before. But you know what it is like when you start to puke, its nearly impossible to stop. I kept throwing up until nothing but bile was coming up. By the time I had gotten myself under control, thealtercation's noise had drawn several more zombies to the gate. I had no choice at that point but to do my best to clear the area. But once you start an operation like that you can't just stop when you feel like it.

I went back into the house and let the kids know that things were OK but that they needed to stay where they were until further notice. Rose told me that they needed food and water. Quickly thinking, I used the dollie and moved one of the big water barrels into the bathroom right outside the shower room. I then had Rose help me throw together some foods that wouldn't need to be cooked. It was getting warm in there with no AC and all of those bodies in such a small space. I was hoping that maybe they would just lie down and sleep if Rose made them some sleeping mats with their pillows and stuffed animals. So that had to be carried in there also.

Poor Johnnie. I would have given almost anything to be able to hold him and rock him at that point but there wasn't time. I gave Rose the first aid pack that had come out of the Avalanche and my kiddie first aid kit with the Tylenol and Motrin in it along with specific instructions on how to administer the medicine to Johnnie. I asked her to make notations on what she gave him, when, and what his temperature was every 30 minutes or so. She really had to push the fluids even if that meant using an eyedropper and forcing it down his throat if need be. A zombie started slamming into the fence from the orange grove and I thought Rose was going to lose it for a second, but she didn't. I cannot say how proud I am of her.

I dragged the twin mattresses into the bathroom as well. I told her if she had to she could bring a mattress in and use it to cover the door in the same way we planned to for a hurricane. That I had to go on the roof so I could figure out what was going on. She didn't want me to go but finally I simply gave her no choice but to accept my plan. I told her that I might be up there for several hours but if I wasn't back in 24 to assume the worst and continue on accordingly, that someone would eventually come and she would need to be ready. When I hugged my kids I swore to myself it wouldn't be the last time.

I had done plenty of thinking since Demolition Day. I had worried about anyone on the roof becoming a target or getting stuck up there. I had cleaned up one of Scott's old gray tarps that was similar in color to our shingles and put it in a bag along with sticks to hold it up. It wasn't a great piece of camouflage but it was better than nothing. I grabbed that, the gun, the ammo that I dumped into another bag, some water, and lastly I grabbed the big ax that I had brought in from Scott's shed. If worse came to worse and the house got surrounded I figured I could chop into the roof and get into the attic and from the attic into the house.

I put everything in a backpack and climbed up to the roof using the ladder that we still hadn't put back on top of the work van. I was as quiet as I could be as I got set up on the back side of the house but I swear they could still hear me and got excited.

Up on the roof how bad things were quickly came into focus. I wanted Scott so bad at that point I nearly just lay there and cried. I didn't but it was a near thing. I set up a couple of places that I could cradle the rifle for more accuracy. I reviewed the few lessons on using a rifle that I could remember from over the years. I remembered that breathing was important, as was trigger control. I tried to calm down; I was shaking pretty badly.

My first couple of shots missed the zombies completely. I felt like an idiot. The next few shots, as I got familiar with the scope and figured out to hold my breath before I pulled the trigger, were body shots. After that my accuracy got a lot better. I'll never be a competitive marksman but I could pretty much hit anything that came within 50 yards of the house, maybe not a head shot but I could hit the target; 60 yards was my outside limit. Beyond that I doubt I could hit anything even though I think you are supposed to be able to hit something up to and beyond 75 yards away with a .22 rifle. Not me; I'm not that accurate. At least not yet. Or maybe it was the scope. Heck, I don't know. Its not like I'd spent a lot of time shooting at things up to this point. I'm lucky I didn't shoot my own foot off considering I'd never really had a lesson on firearms safety beyond my Dad and Grandad reading me the riot act of how I would behave with their guns.

As the number of bullets in my bag started to go down significantly I started to pick my shots. I would only shoot the strongest looking zombies. If they were falling apart, barely shambling along, or were in some way incapacitated I let them go. There were other folks taking shots at the incoming zombies and I figured they could help with the load. My little bag of ammo wouldn't last forever.

I scrabbled across that roof most of the rest of the day. My arms were scraped all to heck as were my ankles where I was just wearing tennis shoes. I'm still recovering from the sunburn I got up there too. It was cloudy but the UVs were still coming down and I sweated the sunscreen off faster than I could put it on. I pinched the heck out of my hand a couple of times before I learned not to fight with the bolt so much. After the sun set I didn't have any choice but to return inside. I nearly broke my fool neck coming down when I missed a ladder rung. I was tired and shaky.

I went inside to find Rose just coming out. She said they knew that I was OK because they could hear me up there crawling around. When it got quiet they would get scared. When she heard me crawling to the edge she had come out to meet me.

I was sick with worry. The guys still weren't home and the zombies just kept coming and coming. There were also some real nut jobs out and about. A couple of times this pick up truck had come through the neighborhood. Apparently some Joe Bob, Billy Bob, Charlie Joe and Bobby Ray type idiots thought it would be the height of fun to go hunting. They came revving their engine and hooting and hollering and drawing all sorts of unwanted attention to my section of the street. I would have shouted at them to behave like they had a brain in their head but I wasn't sure if they had housewives down on their hunting list as well as zombies; they were shooting at nearly everything else. I'm as big a Good Ol' Girl as the next, but even I realize that there are some folks that simply shouldn't be allowed to procreate.

I finally convinced Rose to get some rest. I rocked Johnnie for a bit until he went all the way to sleep and then locked the bathroom door. I moved back to the dining room at the front of the house and prayed that Scott and the guys really were OK and that it wasn't just a fantasy I had been entertaining myself with all afternoon so I could stay positive. And that's where I stayed for the remainder of the night, occasionally roaming the house to make sure everything was still secure.

While I did that Scott lay in a makeshift surgery having a bullet dug out of his calf.

When the fourth wave had broken over the Outpost everyone had quickly gotten into position. There was still plenty of ammo at that point but already the word had gone out to conserve and make every shot count.

While Scott rested from telling me the first part of the story James and David filled me in on the next part. James wasn't allowed on the front line. He was sent to work with Waleski who had, along with a couple of other medics, set up a field hospital inside the former library. Most of the injuries were relatively minor. Waleski was wildly agitated and James didn't understand why until he realized that one of the NRSC commanders had made the rounds of the injured and had tagged some of them to be euthanized. Waleski was all but spitting nails but it was out of his hands at that point. He in no way approved or supported some of the decisions that were being made but he didn't have the authority to override them either. There was also nothing else he could do for those particular patients.

All afternoon James tended wounded men while Scott and David took turns on the front line keeping rioters and zombies as bay.

Scott was injured right before the sun finally set by a ricochet. The bullet had lost a lot of its speed and power which was likely why it failed to exit after it went in. David got Scott to Waleski as fast as he could but it was still some time before he could be seen. There were too few medics for too many injuries and the NRSC commander was underfoot making things slower than they should have been. There was also little pain medication left by that point and it was being rationed. The bullet came out readily enough, but Scott finally passed out while Waleski was cleaning the wound to prevent infection.

Since things had begun to quiet down with the dark, David volunteered to take James' place helping tend the injured so that James could sit with his dad.

All the next day we both took part in beating back further attacks. From the vantage of the roof I watched as the world seemed to fall apart. I watched people throw all their worldly goods in their cars and pull out and head for someplace else … any place else but here. Some of them actually made it further than the end of the street.

David said he and James took turns with Scott who had begun to run a low-grade fever. They also had to keep an eye on the van and on their gear because some of the other CDs kept snooping around it. Sgt. Matt, McElroy, and Cease (just back from leave and still emotionally shook up after seeing his grandparents buried next to each other after they chose their own way out of this mess) discouraged this as much as possible, but they couldn't play favorites.

Another night rolled around and I spent it on watch or trying to get Johnnie's fever to come down. I even filled the tub with water and soaked him in it hoping that would help. I was so exhausted.

I was also scared. Rose was doing what she could but she had her hands full helping with her siblings. She was making sure they ate and drank, cleaning up after them, tryng to calm their fears when I wasn't around, dealing with Johnnie as well. And all in the dark of a small, windowless room.

The ammo that I knew I could use with the .22 was going down too quickly. I hadn't realized how quickly until I had gone to fill up my bullet bag one more time and realized how light the ammo can was becoming. I spent the remainder of the night trying to figure out some other way to push away the zombies that had begun getting so close to the front of the house.

Fire was out though I was tempted to throw one of those fiery cocktail things over into the lowland right of way. Besides it was too wet in there and there was also the problem that the fire could get out of control and do us more harm than help.

I don't know what made me think of that old movie "What Waits Below." Its one of those old "B" movies that is supposed to scare your socks off but instead usually ranges into the bizarre and funny. The little people in this movie killed by driving spikes through the heads of their enemies. I then remembered that Scott had to get all over Johnnie when they were cutting that rebar they buried around the fence edge. One of the long pieces had a really sharp angle and he was swinging it around and nearly bonked Bekah with it. I remember that it was too long to go into his shed so he had just laid it to the side. And I remembered exactly where too.

I tried out my "pike" on some of the zombies that had gathered at the carport gate. The meal they had made of the bodies that I had left there was long gone. The four of the remaining zombies that hadn't wandered off were just standing there. When I entered the carport they got a little agitated but not much. They didn't even seem to register me at all unless I made any noise. As quietly as I could I came up to the gate, sighted my pike through a hole in the fence and then punched through the first zombie's skull with as much force as I could muster.

It didn't work exactly as I had planned. The front of the skull is really thick, like a helmet. That's what our skulls are really … helmets for our brains. The punch skittered across the zombie's forehead, slashing skin away and slid into the eye socket. And when I say it slid in I mean it really went it. In fact it punched out the other side. Unfortunately my forward thrust sent the zombie backwards pulling me almost into the gate itself.

I was gagging really bad but managed to back up and pull my pike back through the bars. It was enough noise to confuse the three remaining zombies but not enough for them to figure out where I was. Instead they fell on the fallen zombie and ripped it apart. While that was happening I chanced another attack and caught a second zombie in the temple area and it dropped immediately. That left two zombies who were confused enough that they were turning on each other. That was a little too much noise and it had drawn the attention of some other wandering zombies.

I gave up attacking from that direction and quickly retreated to the backyard and up onto the roof. Using the pike wasn't a tactic that I would choose as a first option, but at least I had a back up plan. It would probably work better for someone stronger.

I was getting discombobulated by that time. Too little sleep and too much sun will do that even under the best circumstances. Add worry and fear and I was a prime candidate for the loony bin.

Scott wasn't much better off but for different reasons. He was fighting off an incipient infection from the bullet wound and his judgement was getting cloudy. It took James and David both, as well as Waleski and Matlock, to keep him from just hairing off in the van and coming home.

From my vantage point on the roof I could hear the sounds of the world change from mostly gunfire punctuated by a few screams here and there to less and less gunfire and more and more screams. People were running out of ammo, running out of patience, running out of options, and beginning to make really stupid mistakes. At one point when I was laying on the roof I imagined that the screaming had turned into a chorus from hell. I know I must have been hallucinating but it was so real that it is still hard to shake the auditory imagery.

I think everyone was glad to see the end of that day. The pure mayhem and the destructive emotions of the last couple of days was simply more than most had bargained for. Some of the CDs had left against recommendations. Some made it, some didn't. But for those behind closed doors and fences, the quiet of the night was as unhealthy as the devastating noise of the day. Waleski finally doped Scott up so he would sleep laying on the floor of the outpost. I just sat in a chair in our dining room and rocked, sipping one of Scott's high octane energy drinks, praying that I wouldn't fall asleep and leave the kids vulnerable.

I got up the next morning and knew that I had to cook something for the kids. They couldn't live on cold beef stew and granola bars any longer. As quietly as I could I set up my Coleman oven and baked a double load of garlic and cheese biscuits and another double batch of cornmeal muffins that had bacon in them. I also pulled out some boxed rice milk. I gave this all to Rose and told the kids if they were quiet they could stretch their legs a little bit and grab some toys to take into the shower room with them. Johnnie's fever had finally broken and he was sleeping peacefully for the first time in a while so we didn't wake him. I did heat up some chicken broth and pour it into a thermos for him to have later.

I was desperate for news, any news. I couldn't get through to Scott. The radio and TV weren't receiving anything either except for a test screen. I tried to reach my parents but couldn't get through. My phone call to Scott just went to his voice mail over and over again. But when I tried to call my parents it kept saying all circuits were busy. That just didn't make sense. At the time it didn't anyway. Knowing what we do now it does.

I climbed back up onto my roof and just lay there. I was beginning to lose hope that Scott was coming home. I was still playing it up for the girls but I'm not sure I believed it any more. I sat there and baked in the sun for a long time. Gradually a thumping sound penetrated my stupor. It felt like someone was hammering inside the attic. That scared me spitless. I shimmied down the ladder and into the house expecting the worst. Rose, bless her, had gotten scared when I stopped moving around. She had climbed up into the attic and started banging on the roof to try and find out what was going on. I knew I was too far gone and stayed inside the rest of the day. I couldn't give up, if only for their sake.

As I sat staring at the front door, mentally daring anyone - or any thing - to knock, I realized that the next day would be James' 16th birthday. I think Rose remembered as well 'cause she and I just held each other while silent tears ran down our faces. Sarah and Bekah must have crept out at some point because they were leaning on me as well. Bekah said, "Don't worry Momma, Daddy'll be home soon and we won't have to miss him any more." God, it was all I could do not to run screaming straight into the arms of lunacy at that point. I straightened myself up and gave them all a kiss. Went in to check on Johnnie and then came back out to stare at the door some more.

At some point on this day, James says mid morning but David said it was after lunch, Scott had finally had all he could stand. He and the boys were making plans to pull out when Sgt. Matt and Sgt. Dixon came over with the latest bad news.

"It's not common knowledge yet but they've put the entire Tampa Bay area under quarantine. Even MacDill is being abandoned. Even us troops are being abandoned to fate," Sgt. Matt explained.

There was shock all the way around. To simply abandon active duty military, to not make an effort to evacuate them, was a prescription for disaster. It sets a terrible precedent and really lowers the morale of the rest of the armed forces. It is simply not done.

"What this means gentlemen is that effective immediately Matlock and I appear to be at loose ends. That also means we are now free to get to our families. My kids and fiancé are being housed over at USF. Matlock has got some step-kids with his ex-wife that are supposed to be at their grandparents over in Carrollwood. We want to go get them and try and create an area that we can defend for an extended time, at least until those idiots running the show in DC find some brains and help us out," Sgt. Dixon explained.

"Yeah, look Scott, your place is set up pretty good and easily defensible. I know it'll be crowded but it could be doable until we can figure out the next part of the game plan. Dixon has talked to his patrol group and they'll take their transport and supplies. I've talked to my guys and we're going to grab a Hummer and load it with what we can. We'll take point in the Hummer, Dixon said he and his boys will cover our rear. You want in?"

It didn't take Scott but a second to say "Hell yeah." They quietly moved some of the NRSC supplies into the transport and some of the Outpost supplies into the Hummer. Scott, being unable to drive, helped David position the van and trailer … ostensibly to get it out of the way … between the two.

Mid-afternoon the Outpost Commander released the details of the quarantine to the remaining personnel. As expected there was a lot of outrage. During all of the ensuing ruckus a lot of the vehicles began to move out. Our guys weren't the only ones to make plans in advance. There were still a significant number that decided to hold onto the Outpost but most of the active duty military types, including NRSC troopers and National Guardsmen, decided to head over to MacDill.

The parade of vehicles began to peal off and go their separate ways. With Matlock leading the way our convoy headed west of Bearss until they hit Dale Mabry Hwy where they turned south. They followed the highway south until they could find a cross road where they could turn into Old Carrollwood. The few people still around cowered in their houses but a few hurled curses as the men (and the two women in Dixon's group) rolled slowly along. They stopped in front of a house that was nothing more than a burned out hulk. Scott said he had never seen Matlock so devastated. Cease later told me that Matlock had been hoping for a reconciliation with his ex-wife.

He got out and he was given cover while he looked around trying to find a sign of what had happened. He looked around and was finally convinced to leave when two little kids came running out of the bushes from across the street.

"Uncle Matt! Uncle Matt! Help!" A little girl and boy, aged four and 10 respectively, were being chased by a new-ish zombie who was in the "fast" stage. Matt ran across the street and grabbed the kids while Dixon's crew sanitized the zombie.

"We need to get out of here Matt … that gunfire will draw a crowd!" Dixon radioed.

"Kids, where's you Mom?" Matt asked them.

"Grammy ate her. Grandpa too. We ran over to the Childerson's for a while but Grammy followed us over there. We've been hiding up in the clubhouse for days and days," the boy explained.

Matlock looked heart broken for a few seconds but stiffened his spine and then radioed back to Dixon that they were moving out. They rolled out onto Dale Mabry again and stopped only long enough to transfer the kids to Scott's van for safe keeping. James watched over them and told them about his own siblings that were their age. He also explained what they were trying to do. He gave the boy, named Tom, a Clif Bar but the girl just sat there staring, holding onto a pink stuffed bunny backpack as if was her only lifeline.

From Dale Mabry Hwy they headed north until they reached Fletcher Avenue where they turned east. The closer they got to the University Area the more blatant destruction there was. This was an area that had seen some of the heaviest rioting. University Community Hospital, the scene of one of the first NRS outbreaks in the area, was a smoldering ruin in danger of toppling at any moment. The Hummer would have had no problems getting through the debris. Neither would the transport because it sat so high. But Scott's van and trailer were not going to make it. They backtracked on Fletcher until they got to Bruce B. Downs Blvd and then used side streets to get onto the USF campus and over to the area of on-campus housing.

Argos Hall looked devastated but Dixon pointed out a sheet hanging from an upper floor that read, "On top floors. Zombies on all floors four and below."

There was nothing left to do but take the building floor-by-floor. Dixon and three of his people all had family that were supposed to be in the building. Scott was too injured to go so he, David, and James stayed on the ground to protect their back and watch after Matlock's step-kids while most of the active-duty men and women took the building.

A couple of hours later they started bringing down the survivors. There weren't that many of them. Dixon's fiance and their 14-year-old son were among the survivors but the woman had been brutalized pretty badly by some rioters that had attacked the building before the zombies arrived. The husband of one of the females in his group had not made it. The NRSC group's radio specialist also lost his wife, but their baby daughter was found safe and sound inside a locked janitor's closet and with a couple of other very young children. No one knew who the other two little ones belonged to, they were just survivors like everyone else.

It was getting towards night and too late to go any further. They needed to find a safe place to stay for the night. Scott said he was angry but knew they couldn't move any further. Matt and Dixon both came by to say they were sorry but it didn't change the facts. Scott had helped them get to their families, but he was still not home with his.

The only safe place they could find quickly that could accommodate all three of the vehicles was the Physical Plant building. They spent the remainder of the evening tending to the injured, making plans for a quick exit at first light, and rummaging through the boxes in the step vans that were parked in the plant's garage.

They siphoned all of the diesel to refill the tranport's and Hummer's tanks. David filled our van's tank from cars out in the parking lot. They also topped off two of the step vans that would be used for transporting the survivors and the supplies they were gathering. In fact there was so much stuff that they decided to also take a small trailer truck as well and to hit the road mid morning after they had combed through some of the adjacent buildings. Scott wasn't happy about the additional delay but knew that there was no way that we could feed and house all of these people. The food that woud be needed alone would completely wipe us out in no time.

The next morning I stood up out of the chair I had been resting in and nearly fell over, all in one smooth motion. I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten anything substantial and I knew that I could not continue to act this way. I was already feeling pretty lousy and about the only thing that sounded even half way appetizing was grits. I fixed them while the girls simply watched me; none of us making any more sound than we had to. We also ate in silence which is so different from the way our home used to be as to be unimaginable.

I was moving very slowly and my brain was sluggish. I knew I still needed to go on the roof to try and figure out how bad things were. I stumbled out the door after putting the kids into the shower room again. Up the ladder nearly missing two rungs on the way up. It was like the world had died. Sanitized corpses and bodies too eaten up to reanimate littered the roads and yards for as far as I could see. I knew those would have to be taken care of but refused to take the thought any further. Turkey vultures, black birds, and some feral cats were already at the corpses. I figured the dogs would be at them at some point soon if there were any still around.

My mind fluttered in and out of reality for a while. Looking back it isn't surprising that the first glimpse I got of the convoy would appear to be a waking dream or hallucination. But I knew the zombies coming out of the bushes at the sounds of the vehicles were no illusion. Automatically I took aim and started taking the zombies down without really thinking about it.

Scott said Matt had to radio Dixon and his crew to make sure they wouldn't return fire. They weren't sure if I as shooting at the zombies or just shooting scared.

I saw Scott's van but only part of me registered the fact. I was really detached. And then I saw James waving like a madman from the side door window. David was driving and waving as well. Scott was just staring at me from the passenger's seat with his face plastered to the glass.

Everything suddenly clicked. I rolled off of the roof nearly missing the ladder. As it was I fell the last four feet when I lost my balance and missed the bottom rungs. I flew into the house and called to Rose to come quick. I had to know if I had lost my mind or not. Rose looked out the carport and started crying tears of joys before I shoved her back inside to keep the other kids out of the way while I tried to figure out a way to get them safely into the house. More and more zombies were beginning to show up.

Suddenly the Hummer started plowing through the zombies. Just flat out running them over. It was creating enough of a diversion to allow me to unlock the carport and let Scott's van and trailer to pull in. They ran over the rotting corpses that had been in front of the gate but I barely registered it. The Hummer and the military transport vehicle continued to roll up and down the road taking out any zombie that ventured towards our position. During that time the step van with the other survivors backed up to the carport and disgorged its passengers. The driver pulled to the front corner of the yard. Then the next step van backed in and its supplies were quickly unloaded. Its driver pulled in behind the second step van. The trailer truck backed in to the drive way and up to the carport. The Hummer then pulled directly into the yard and the transport closed the remaining gap between the trailer truck's cab and the back of the second step van. They had created a barrier of sorts around our front yard to match the fence we had around our backyard.

There were so many people in the house. I couldn't count them all, they kept moving around too much. But everyone was still being as quiet as possible and it was like watching a silent movie. I couldn't get enough of touching Scott and James. David, normally shy, was also in the middle of it all with the girls climbing all over him to welcome him home. Rose just looked at him and then they took each other's hand. I looked at Scott but he had no objections so I just nodded at them letting them know it was OK.

I don't remember much of the rest of that day. I tried to explain to Scott what had been happening and I know he tried to talk to me but little of either makes much sense in my memories. Waleski looked at Johnnie and said he was just a little dehydrated but should be OK. When he looked at me however he shook his head. That's about all I really remember. I had come down with the same bug that Johnnie had; probably caught it as I was rocking him that one night. Rose and the girls must have helped put me to bed but it's a blur.

I woke up several times in the night reaching out, searching for Scott. He would pat me and tell me he was there and to go back to sleep. I didn't wake up until around lunchtime the next day. I tried to get up. There were people in the house for Pete's sake but I never made it passed the bathroom. The NRSC medic, her name is Rachel Rigosa, finally convinced me to give it up after explaining that no one was doing much of anything except sleeping. Everyone was exhausted and in need of healing … physically and mentally. Watches had been set, chores had been designated, and I just needed to go back to bed.

And now, after another night's sleep it is Day 47 of this journey. I still need to write down what we decided today but that will have to wait until tomorrow's journal entry. Writing this all out has rung more of an emotional toll than I had anticipated. I'm still not feeling totally myself. It took the last of my energy a few minutes ago to convince Scott to let Waleski and Rigosa to take another look at his leg. I'm ready to happily lay down my pen, county chicks, and to leave the watches up to someone else for a change.


	42. Day Forty-Eight

**Day 48**

The last week has been exhausting. I have so many people in my house that it is crazy but over the next couple of days the over-crowding should start to ease somewhat.

Just for the sake of clarification I guess a roster of membership in our new "enclave" is in order. Honestly I haven't learned everyone's name yet … and putting the names with the right faces is turning out to be an extreme challenge; for me it is anyway.

First there is our family: Scott, Sissy (me), Rose, James, Sarah, Bekah, Johnnie, and of course David is included.

Next there is Sgt. Matt and his crew: Murphy Matlock and his two step-kids – Tom who is 10 and the little girl is named Jenny I think. She is 4 and profoundly disturbed. She and Johnnie stay with either me or Rose almost 24/7 unless Matt is sitting down to eat then she is in his arms or wrapped around his leg. She hasn't talked much at all since she arrived and that is very concerning. Neither Waleski nor Rigosa have much experience with children so they aren't sure how to categorize how traumatized she is. Only time will tell us that. In addition to Matt and his kids, there are the three unattached males from his patrol. Gabriel Waleski is a medic. Poor guy. With all that blonde wavy hair and blue eyes he must have been teased unmercifully; no wonder he prefers to be known by his surname alone. Cecil "Cease" Davenport; young and still getting over the shock of his grandparents' choice of euthanasia so that they could go together. Henry McElroy; personable but distant so I don't know that much about him other than he is a hard worker.

Then we have Sgt. Dixon, his crew, and their surviving families: Sam Dixon, his fiancé' Patricia whom his is basically treated as a common law wife for about 15 years, and their 14 year old son Samuel. Samuel is a good kid and is fitting in well between James and Sarah. Patricia I'm reserving judgment on. I just can't seem to warm up to her for some reason. She has a very strong personality and despite some serious injuries at the hands of the mob that stormed Argos Hall she is pretty much taking over my house which is unnerving to me.

The rest of Dixon's crew includes the woman whose husband didn't make it out of Argos. I think her name is June or her last name is Juno or something like that. She can't seem to stay still long enough for me to start a conversation up with her. I think it is her way of dealing with her grief. Or maybe its part of her natural personality … no one seems to think anything unusual about how she is acting. I guess I'll figure it out eventually.

The man they call Hall is the radio specialist – I think his full surname is Mendenhall – and he lost his wife in Argos. His baby daughter is named Kitty and she isn't even two months old yet. It's been a trip having to take care of newborn all over again. Luckily there was about a case of powdered baby formula in Argos but when that is gone I have no idea what we are going to do. My milk making days are truly over. Yeah, we are taking care of Matt's daughter and baby Kitty. Hall just looks at the baby but is having a hard time developing a connection with her. I think the loss of his wife has disconnected him from his daughter. We'll have to work on that. For now I've also taken in the little boy and girl that were found in the closet with Kitty. The little boy and girl appear to be siblings and the little boy, about three years of age, has stated that the little girl is called "Sis" and his name is "Bubby." The boy did have the name Charles written on thes tag of his t-shirt but he won't answer to that name; he only answers to Bubby.

Dante Laramour found his wife and two children alive and in fighting form on the very top floor of Argos after having given them up for dead. Tina is about ten years younger than I am and I really like her. She means well, but she spent most of her adult life working as an advertising agent and is pretty clueless when it comes to homemaking. Her mother was also a career woman and had weekly maid service. Tina simply has no training in that direction. But she is able to laugh at herself which takes a lot of the sting out of the lessons she is being forced to learn more quickly than is comfortable. Her two kids fit with mine pretty well. They have their mother's personality, though more subdued. Laura is eleven and she, Sarah, and Samuel can be found together more often than not. Robert – better known as Bo – is 10 and he, Tom, and Bekah are forming another close knit group.

The last two in Dixon's group are unattached. Rachel Rigosa is a medic in her mid twenties. The best word for her is efficient. She is a tightly compacted woman that rarely makes any more movement than necessary, but when she does move get out of her way because she is a dynamo. She also isn't much of a talker. She and Waleski make a surprisingly good team though how on earth they do it when neither one does much talking is beyond me. Jose Navarre is nineteen and the son of immigrants. He seems to really be getting attached to Scott. I think it is because Scott is fluent in Spanish and it is a way for Jose to stay connected to his roots. He hangs out a lot with David and James. He's from Miami and wishes with all his might that he could find out what happened to his family down there.

That's our full house. In addition to our family there are twelve adults and eight children. That's a total of twenty-eight people living in a house that was built to house only a quarter that number. As full as our house is, the sound volume is much lower than you would expect. Even with all the children underfoot it has been quiet; unnaturally so.

I couldn't believe it when Scott and the boys first showed up. I wanted to cling to them in thanksgiving but there wasn't time; not then, and hardly any privacy to do it since. We put families together where possible and the unattached men in with David and James. We put the unattached women in Rose's room with her. Our house simply isn't designed for this. Bedding has been challenging but we are making do and things are getting better. Thus far there are no night patrols so Matt's kids bunk down where ever he decides to crash for the night. Hall freaked out over taking care of Kitty so I've been carrying her in Johnnie's old sling and she sleeps next to my side of the bed at night. Scott has been making noise that if Hall refuses to start trying to take care of his daughter more that we'll petition the group to adopt her outright. Lord only knows what kind of legal mess that could become in the future, but for now Scott and I are all growing too attached to her to simply give her back with no questions asked. Sis and Bubby sleep in our room with us as well. Its like puppies all over our floor but not as much trouble as it sounds.

Cooking has been a challenge. For the last two days its been grains for breakfast (oatmeal or grits), rice and beans for lunch, and soup for dinner. Not very creative but about all I've been able to manage for a crowd this size. I'll admit to getting a bit irritated at the lack of help from the adult females. Most of them are either military and therefore included in security and gathering crews or are the white collar career types with maybe the desire but no immediate skills. In all honesty it's the same for the males so maybe I'm just being sexist. But honestly, how did all the housework and cooking fall to me?! My girls help where they can but Rose seems to have taken a shine to Patricia and mostly seems to be helping her make lists and tally supplies, etc. That's needed work, but if I don't get some help people aren't going to get fed and that's a fact.

Speaking of the gathering crews, they've answered some questions and raised a few more. In the chaos of the rioting and zombie attacks a lot of people tried to hit the road to escape. Where they thought they were going I have no idea. How many got there is impossible to say. All I can say with certainty is that a lot of them did not make it. A bottle neck formed at the end of the road right as it turned onto US41. From my vantage I saw it start with a stalled car. Then fear, road rage, gunfire, and zombies got thrown into it, resulting in a lot of unnecessary misery and death. I was too far away to do anything but watch it unfold.

The first crews to go out went over to those cars to see if there was anything that could be appropriated for our group's use. That's how some of the bedding issues were minimized. Some food also came into our supplies that way, but not nearly enough. As they were siphoning fuel from the tanks of these cars and pushing them to the side until they decided if they could be used, they tried to match vehicles to houses within the neighborhood. Scott and James helped with that if there was no ID available in the vehicle. From the ID'd vehicles they backtracked to the house where it came from.

At this point the map that James had been working on really came in handy. Sgt. Dixon was actually quite impressed and gave the job of updating known data on each household to James and his son Samuel. We've noted when we know for certain a household member was a corpse or re-animated and/or sanitized. Also noted has been things taken from those houses. So far roughly 85% of the neighborhood has been accounted for, the greater majority of those being vacant of human life. There is a street on the far NE side that has not been gone over but primarily because it is suspected to be heavily infested, requiring more fire power than the sergeants are willing to expend until they can find some way to resupply.

There are some hold outs sprinkled through the neighborhood. Sgt. Dixon wants to try and bring them into the enclave but Sgt. Matt doesn't seem to have much use for them. His past experience in the neighborhood is coloring his perspective I suspect. To be honest I fall somewhere in the middle, at least until I know exactly who the hold outs are.  
For now things brought in from the cars and vacant houses that doesn't immediately get used is being stored in the large trailer with the rest of the supplies taken from over at USF. There's enough that soon the vans will also be needed for storage. Again though, not enough of that is food.

I think the biggest physical challenge we've faced as far as the expanded household goes has been sanitation. Nearly thirty people create a lot of waste. We wound up having to build two waste stations over near my compost piles. I would not go so far as to call them out-houses but they serve the same function. The children (and Patricia due to her injuries) use the bathrooms inside and the adults use the waste stations except at night after the house gets locked up. Even this system won't last forever as our septic tank was never designed to serve that many people at once.

I have lots of other concerns as well. My water reserves are deteriorating rapidly. The new people don't seem to have any concept about real water conservation. And Patricia keeps trying to organize cleaning details without thought to the fact that we have no way to refill the water barrels until it rains – showers, laundry, etc. are eating away at what I thought was a massive surplus.

Thus far I'm fairly certain that no one knows about our hidden food storage and I don't intend on them ever being for the group's general consumption. After a whispered family conference back in our bedroom I've determined that no one has given it way but I've heard Patricia make some derogatory comments about the design of my pantry and utility room that made Sgt. Matt look at it thoughtfully.

I feel like I'm losing control. I know there is a price to pay for being able to share security issues but I'm wondering if the price isn't turning out to be too high. My home is not a motel and I and my family are not maids. And Patricia is slowly but inevitably plinking away at my patience. I realize that she is trying to find her place in things but she is actually sowing some discord. I have a sneaking suspicion that Matlock doesn't care for her. He avoids her and tends to hang out with his kids who hang out with mine. This afternoon he was joking with me about being a mother hen with too many chicks and the kids actually had real smiles on their faces in response to his joking while they were "helping" me to put together the dinner preparations. Jose, Cease, David and a couple of the other guys started clucking and generally being silly as well. Ms. "CPA" Patricia Stiff-Britches had to come along and spoil everything by commenting rather acidly that I appeared to be a hen with too many roosters - right as Scott walked back into the kitchen. The guys didn't mean anything by it and Scott knows I'm as constant as Old Faithful but her comment had "ugly" and "jealous" written all over it. The uncomfortable silence following her exit was way too long. Scott, bless him, saved things by giving me a good kiss in front of everyone and saying, "Say a prayer for poor ol' Dixon. He's got his hands full that's for sure. When's dinner sugar? I'm starving." I think, but can't be certain, that Matlock and Scott are trying to decide how to approach Dixon about her. We can't waste a lot of energy on this kind of nonsense. We need everything we've got and then some trying to keep us all alive.

As I was cleaning up from dinner tonight and trying to keep the kids occupied and out of the grown ups' way a meeting was called to discuss some of the issues I've been concerned about. I wish I could have been there but James – who is back talking to be without reservations, at least for now – told me what was discussed.

It appears I may be seeing some relief to the over crowding issue sooner rather than later. Waleski and Rigosa also expressed concerns about so many people under one roof simply for health reasons. One cold or other infection could run through our whole group like wildfire and that would leave us vulnerable. Tomorrow a cleaning crew is going to break into the Victorian across the street and see if it can be secured and made habitable for some of our enclave. There is the risk of splitting the group but that is the house closest to us and we've simply got to do something. Patricia tried to say that she and Dixon would take our house and we could stay and help out but before Scott could lose his temper Dixon told Patricia to knock it off 'cause not everyone enjoyed her sense of humor. James said she wasn't joking. I'm wondering if Dixon realizes that. Surely he can't be that blind to what is going on.

Matlock raised the possibility of going up and down US41 and gathering enough fencing material to enclose a fairly large area. The area he wants to secure includes the orange grove to the west of our house (5 acres), Mabel's old home site to our east (3 acres), our home and yard (.5 acre), the Victorian and its lot to our south (1 acre), and at least the two other homes and sites to the east of Mabel's and the Victorian (another 5 or 6 acres not including parts of two canals). This would give our enclave a good bit of green space, even if you don't include the orange grove itself and we could use that for staging and for growing the food we will need to see us through the coming months and perhaps longer. That would also give us a minimum of three additional houses for people to live in.

I'm not sure if Matlock realizes how much work and the amount of materials we are talking about. Maybe he does. All I know is Scott just about swallowed his teeth just thinking about the logistics of it. Just imagine if all of those post holes have to be dug manually with ye old post hold digger?! Simply moving galvanized fence posts that will support an eight or twelve foot fence is going to be freaking unreal. Grandiose plans are one thing … actually being able to put them into effect is something else all together.

These plans also appear to include closing off a section of our road to thru traffic. I assume they'll gate it somehow, but still. All of this is kinda hard for me to take in. Things have changed so quickly, so painfully. Now they are making plans to change the very landscape I've become accustomed to. It's a lot for me to take in.

The fact that I feel like a chess piece on the men's game board doesn't help. I'm no longer the "queen" of my home. That title is being held by Patricia. Despite the beating and rape – for which I do feel a lot of sympathy – she is acting "large and in charge." She ran her own CPA office and has become habituated to being in control. After being the dominate female of my family, suddenly finding myself so far down the food chain is irksome to say the least. She reigns, almost literally, from my reading chair in the living room. Like a queen from her throne. She'd probably pull Rose away from me if it wasn't for the fact that David can't stand the woman and won't have anything to do with her; almost to the point of rudeness. Rose learned that fact the hard way when David made a pointed comment this morning that it is sure a good thing that "Momma Sissy" was good at doing and not just talking or no one would get anything to eat. Patricia didn't appreciate it and tried to point out how I could do it a lot better than I was. He came back at her with the way I was doing it was a heck of a lot better than anything anyone else had tried but that he figured I would like a break if someone else wanted to get up off their butts and give it a try. James and Scott got him out of the room before a fight could brew but I noticed that after that is when Tina came out and at least tried to help with the big cauldron of soup that I was cooking out back. I bless the day that David came into our lives. He has proved he loyalty to our family many times over. He's as much as son to me as James is at this point.

Anyone reading this some time in the future will probably wonder how we went from a relatively stable area to one so devoid of law and order so quickly. One word – quarantine. It wasn't the NRS or the zombies that brought us to our knees, it was the rioting and the resulting consequences which included the zombies. People lost control due to their fear. When they lost control and couldn't be stopped our area became quarantined which created even more instability. The same thing that happened in NYC and LA. As I understand it, the whole of the Tampa Bay region has been quarantined. Information is not coming in, though it is surely must be getting out somehow; maybe via MacDill. It may be possible that by this time the entire state is under quarantine. We simply don't know. We've been cut off like a gangrenous limb.

I've tried for days now to reach my parents without success. Hall is talking about trying to get some kind of solar power array set up to power a small radio station. Even if its only city-wide to start with it will be more info than we currently have. Our little solar set up won't be sufficient. They've already pulled the batteries from all of the cars and boats in the neighborhood for storage. We have some solar powered pool pumps in this area as well as some solar powered street signs/lights. If they can pull enough of those together and secure them, then find some way to build up enough power storage, we might be able to actually get some information from the outside world. Scott, David, and McElroy think we might also be able to hook up some solar power to run a couple of water wells which would solve at least some of our water issues.

But all of that is for another day. The sky, after starting out with a really red sunrise, has promised rain off and on all day today without fulfilling it. I left the barrels set up anyway in case it rained over night. The only problem is that if it does rain overnight its going to make it hard to cook in the morning. I hate to break into my propane supplies like I've been having to but there may not be a choice.

I'm off to bed but on my way I'll make a note on the Gathering Crew's list to be on the look out for propane tanks attached to gas grills or tucked away in garages or on the back of any RVs they see. Even if they find them they might be empty, but we gotta try. I also want them to look for mirrors and vehicle sun shields so that I can make some solar cookers to lighten my cooking duties.


	43. Day Forty-Nine

**Day 49**

I swear to goodness, its either blow off steam here in my journal or blow a gasket and we've had enough of that today.

I nearly had it out with Patricia … twice ... though I'm a little sorry for it after what happened. I'm really trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. She's been traumatized and brutalized. She really is hurting. Late this afternoon Rachel pulled me aside and actually asked me if I can hold off having it out with her because she is hoping that most of the way she is acting is just due to emotional reaction and lingering pain. She shared with me that the rape was really brutal and that she is showing some signs of infection. She also asked if I had any yeast medication or anything related to feminine needs. That is apparently one area that your average field aid kit fails miserably. I'm trying really, really hard to keep all she said in mind but Patricia isn't making having sympathy for her very easy, even if she is apparently around the bend.

Sometime during the night the promised rain finally arrived; and arrived with a vengeance. The storm came through in closely spaced squall lines and was occasionally so bad and noisy that it confused the heck out of the few wandering zombies that were spotted. They couldn't seem to pick a direction and land on it. The lightening also seemed to mess with them quite a bit; the thunder did too, but the actual lightening would sometimes make them do crazy stuff like turn in circles for minutes at a time or try and stand on their heads. It was really weird. The electricity in the air may interfere with how the NRS hijacks the victim's neural system. David and McElroy have been trying to get a discussion going about whether we could use that to our advantage. I'm not sure, I heard the words taser and cattle prod mentioned. I didn't have time to clarify what I had overheard so I mean to try and talk to David about it before breakfast in the morning.

This morning's breakfast was grits with cubed canned ham mixed in with it, drop biscuits, and a wedge of powdered egg omelet that had dehydrated green peppers and onions mixed in. I also put a jar of salsa on the table for anyone that wanted it, and several jars of homemade preserves that I made last year. Everything, including the salsa and preserves, was completely eaten up. I caught David, James, Cease, and Jose sticking their fingers in the jars of preserves to clean them out! I didn't know whether to be grossed out or laugh my head off. Boys will always be boys … even with zombies on the loose.

I have to admit, teaching Tina and her daughter to make biscuits was a nice change in my routine and my girls began to see the importance of those tedious home ec lessons I have forced on them since they were little. I thought Dante was going to fall out of his chair when Tina showed him a platter of biscuits she had made herself. Apparently the only biscuits she'd ever made him came from a can. I was glad to provide a moment of fun for their family; we all need moments like that these days to offset the horror of what goes on at other times.

Unfortunately Dixon chose that moment to make a comment to the effect that he'd give just about anything if Patricia would have "cooked a breakfast like this on even just a few occasions over the years." Honestly, that's just what he said word for word. I'm beginning to suspect that man is incredibly thick skinned or incredibly thick headed. As much as Patricia irritates me I could have reached over and bonked him on the head with my marble rolling pin on her behalf. After most everyone had finished eating and filed out to the carport to try and figure out what they were going to be able to accomplish in the rain, Patricia came into the kitchen and boy did she have blood in her eye. Zombies had nothing on her at that moment.

"You think you are some kind of domestic goddess don't you. You just love being able to lead all of these men around by their … stomachs," she snarled. The insinuation was apparently supposed to be that I was leading them around by another part of their anatomy.

"Whoa lady. You deal with your man if what he said upset you. Don't take it out on me."

"Its not just that, it's all of it. You think you are just too good. The lady of the house that's so damn proud of being barefoot and in the kitchen with too many kids to look after. I see right through you. You're nothing but a piece of white trash that has managed to float to the surface."

Geez, when she decided to attack, she let it all hang out, but I'm no shrinking violet myself. "Now listen here. You don't know me any better than I know you so watch it. I'm not ashamed of the choices that Scott and I have made. They were what has proven best for our family and allowed us to build our own business and quite a few other things besides. Just because the way we've done things is different from the way you did it doesn't automatically make our way wrong. You have no right to judge us."

It would have gone further if we hadn't heard some other people coming in but I left her with another parting thought. "Now you listen to me. This is my house, not yours. I consider you a guest and I'll treat you as such. However, you are overstaying your welcome and I'm just about to get as tired of you as I am willing to get. You better hope they get that house over there fixed up real soon or you are going to find yourself sleeping out on the carport." I walked away before I could get myself in any deeper.

Ooooh boy I was seething. Patricia looked like she had a few more things she would have liked to have said in return.

After I had time to cool off, and it took me nearly to lunch to do it, I felt kinda bad for what I had said. The overall situation she has found herself in isn't her fault. Neither is the fact that she was hurt by those men. She could, I thought, help how she's acting as a result of what she has gone through. I don't blame her for being angry and upset. I hold her accountable for blaming the wrong people for her situation.

After a lunch of more rice and beans, this time in the form of pinto beans served with rice and tomato gravy, I put on my rain gear and tried to tackle my plants. Because of all of the space limitations we've had to move everything outside and leave it there. I'm hoping that everything is safe because of the number of people swarming around our house. Anyone crazy enough to attack us at this point is either (1) a zombie, or (2) as empty-headed as a zombie, or (3) insane with desperation.

The plants loved the weather; they were practically singing in the rain. I was happy to get out of the stuffy house even if I had to do it in a raincoat and garden togs. Its still incredibly warm all day and night. When the house is full it feels even hotter and stuffier. Add in the smells that waft through when a zombie(s) is near and you can easily go stir crazy.

Its taken a couple of false starts but I think I've gotten all of the kids to spend most of the day on the lanai when they aren't helping with chores inside. The shutters on the house really give a sense of security that the kids are thriving in. But, they need sunshine too. They are still inclined to be unnaturally quiet but for now it has to be to avoid attracting unwanted attention from the zombies. My next trick is to see if I can write up some kind of lesson plan that will cover multiple ages. These kids need something constructive to do and they might as well be learning something while they do it. The Swiss Family Robinson might be a good framework to use in that direction; something high interest but with lots of learning opportunities.

As I snipped off bits and pieces, pulled weeds, and cultivated around the vines to prevent the grass from encroaching I started thinking about what else our jolly band of survivors was going to need in short order.

First thing that came to mind was secure shelter. For now I obviously had no choice but to have quadruple the number of people in the house that we should. But that simply wasn't sustainable. It isn't just the physical logistics either. Tripping all over each other all the time is only a small part of the problem. Even the best tempered people under the best circumstances will eventually get foul in the living arrangements we currently have. Already tension are increasing between certain group members; Patricia and I are just the most obvious example of this. We don't get enough of a break from one another to cool down when someone rubs us the wrong way. There's no place to get away to.

Next, and just as important, is food and water. Patricia planned to use up all of our supplies – at least the ones she knew of – before breaking in to what they've managed to scavenge between the university and our neighborhood. I flat out told everyone that wasn't going to happen and Scott, David, and James stood up in anger as well. Thankfully Patricia's attempt at dictatorship, and for whatever reason sticking us on the bottom of the dung pile, was summarily ended when it was pointed out by Matlock that it wasn't her job but Dante's to take care of supply and requisitions. Dante is proving both fair and understanding. His parents owned and operated their own small restaurant so he is familiar with the work of feeding a crowd and knows it takes a lot of supplies.

Slowly Patricia's ability to sway the group in one direction or another is being whittled away as the group tries to build a good and fair organizational system. I think in general most of us are trying to avoid open hostility by cutting her some slack over her trauma. But work has to get done and she is getting handled less and less gently. We can't afford the time to negotiate.

Ostensibly Matlock and Dixon are sharing command of our group but its not as simple as it sounds. Dix, for all the fact that I don't see how he deals with Patricia, is a good leader but not a good delegator. He leads primarily by doing. Matlock on the other hand is the better manager. He leads by understanding those under his command empathetically and assigning them jobs that fit their personalities and proclivities. He is also more flexible than Dixon which is an absolute must these days. Dixon is thick skinned and appears to not need the good opinions of others. He sometimes unintentionally rubs people the wrong way because of this. Matlock cares about what people think of him. It doesn't stop him from making the hard decisions but he can get broody and thoughtful if given no postive feedback. Dixon isn't stiff or hard, but he is a very serious man that exhibits little humor. Matlock is a joker and knows how to use his sly humor to defuse a stressful situation. His teasing is as natural a part of him as breathing is. Both men are capable and their strengths compliment each other.

I don't know how long the co-command situation will last. Patricia keeps bucking for Dixon to make more of a stand about being with the NRSC with more service years than Matlock. I heard him tell her to knock if off a couple of times but without any heat to it. Its like he's going to do what he is going to do regardless of what she says. In this case this could be a good thing, but from my perspective it makes for a very weird relationship between the two of them. Lord knows what would happen if Matlock had a significant other, it could into the fight of the valkyries.

Speaking of men and women, the next needs that popped into my head were feminine hygiene products and birth control. My baby making days are over. After all the trouble I had when I was pregnant with Johnnie, Scott and I decided to close the factory. My tubes didn't just get snipped; I had them burned shut to take no chances. I do still have my monthlies as do my two oldest girls. I hope to have a couple more years until Bekah reaches that point but with the way kids are maturing early the last decade or so, who knows. Now to that add four more adult females and my personal stockpile will disappear pretty quick. Tina has already asked me about this. Stress may cause some of us to miss or delay a cycle or two but life can't be put on hold forever.

With that fact also goes birth control. Boys and girls will be boys and girls and will give in to temptation. It doesn't make it right or convenient, but it will happen. There are natural methods of birth control but they are only as reliable as the commitment made to them. I've already cautioned Rose again about putting herself in a situation where temptation wars with commonsense after I found her and David out back of the shed … ahem … getting to know one another. They are lucky Scott didn't catch them. She was rather embarrassed and resentful of my concern, but I don't hold it against her. I was 17 and Scott 19 when we started dating. I know all about temptation but I would be shirking my responsibilities as her mother if I didn't caution her. I worry about pushing her too hard and going through with her what I went through with James, but I'm not sure I have any choice. I've been hoping that my making her help with the children so much she'll think twice (or more times) about potential consequences of physical intimacy.

Not leaving anything to chance I also had a little talk with David. I reminded him that Rose is four years younger than he is and quite a bit less worldly and experienced. I didn't have to say much. David's a smart and thoughtful young man despite his rough and haphazard upbringing. I think it was a bit surprised and embarrassed how quickly things got out of his control. I'm not against a relationship between the two of them, I just think they need to move slower and think more carefully, they are both very young to be making a lifetime commitment which is what children are. I'm also not ready to be a grandmother. I'm even less ready to watch my precious child face the dangers of pregnancy without an Ob/Gyn to guide her prenatal care and childbirth. Two highly trained and field experienced medics are still no substitute for a licensed midwife and/or obstetrician. I might mention something to Rachel and let her handle approaching the other women. I don't think its my place to step into those shoes.

All my thinking abruptly came to a halt when the sky opened up and dropped its heaviest squall yet. I ran back into the house, shooing the kids before me. It was time to think about dinner anyway.

After I had gotten into the house I heard raised voices coming from my bedroom and immediately went to investigate. The room was a wreck; drawers and covers askew. My jewelry armoire had been rifled through and it looked like a good attempt had been made to get into our locked closets.

I demanded, "What on God's green earth is going on?!"

Dixon and Patricia both turned to me with Patricia pointing an angry finger at me and yelling, "I know you have stuff you are holding back from the group and I intend on finding it and proving to everyone what a selfish bitch you really are!"

Dixon grabbed Patricia by the shoulders and shook her, "Patty, that's enough. Listen to what you're saying and think about how you're acting."

"Oh yeah, of course! Take her side! I'm only trying to look after our best interests and those of the group … something you should be doing instead of making nice with all those interlopers. Do you have any understanding of what I'm doing for everyone?! Do you have any idea of what I'm having to go through?! And she's just … "

I'd had enough. "Dixon, Patricia is way out of line and I want her out of here now. Right. Now."

Patricia pulled away from Dixon and came at me, "You piece of trash, you don't tell anyone what to …"

I backhanded across her already busted up mouth. Not one of my proudest moments. Before Dixon got over his surprise I snatched Patricia by her hair and dragged her through the house and threw her out onto the carport.

"Now you listen to me. I don't even pretend to know the depths of the trauma you have suffered but I have had enough. You are not helping yourself or our group by acting this way." She came at me again and I pushed her away and up against the wall and continued, "I don't know what you have against me and my family but have you stopped to really listen to yourself lately? You are hysterical. The way you are acting makes no sense."

"You're the one that isn't acting right or fair. Not me! You portion out your goods like they are gold and we are the beggars. You are trying to control everything by having all the guys chasing after you, listening to you …"

"Oh for Pete's sake. Why on earth would you think an asinine thing like that?! I've been with the same man for 25 years! After nearly five years, it has taken zombies to help me lose the last of my baby weight and I'm still a short dumpling. I haven't a clue what you are going on about with that. I'm more 'momma' to these guys than 'hot momma.' "

"Oh, how deprecating. How modest. Look Sam, isn't she just the most …"

She never got to finish her sarcastic bombardment because Dixon stepped up and said, "Knock it off Patty."

"Don't call me that. I hate it. My name is Patricia damnit, and you know it!"

I was flabbergasted and angry and embarrassed and a lot of other things besides, all at the same time. Unfortunately I also had started to feel a certain amount of pity for this woman who was beginning to appear disturbed. "Dixon, I really don't know what to say but maybe you should go find Rachel and Waleski."

Obviously I said the wrong thing because Patricia growled, "Don't you dare make this out like I'm some kind of mental case, you bitch!"

"Patricia, you better hope there is something wrong with that can be fixed because normal people don't act like this. Otherwise I am going to wind up having it out with you and you will not be the winner. Its an understatement to say we are all going through some bad times. On top of that you have been a victim of a terrible attack … "

"Shut up!"

"You need to calm down; you are scaring the kids and you are freaking Dixon out."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

The woman was really coming unglued, putting her hands over her ears so she couldn't hear what was being said to her. I grabbed her from behind in a bear hug and took us both to the ground. She didn't have a lot of physical strength to fight me off. "Dixon, go get Rachel and Waleski now, please! "

Dixon finally took off like a shot to bring the medics in. Patricia just screamed obscenities at me and struggled despite the fact that it must have hurt her existing injuries. It took maybe 5 to 10 minutes for Rachel and Waleski to show up, by that time and despite the sound of the pounding rain creating confusion we had an audience of the undead which did nothing for Patricia's nerves nor mine. It took another five minutes for Dixon to sanitize the last zombie so that the patrol could gain access to the carport. Rachel was even less gentle with Patricia than I had been. She said, "Sorry Dix" and then clipped Patricia firmly on the chin with the neatest right hook I've ever seen.

The now unconscious woman was taken to the room where she and Dixon had been staying and put to bed. Rachel administered one of the drugs from the inventory she and Waleski were developing by scavenging through all the medicine chests they ran across. It was after that incident that Rachel spoke to me about trying to hold off on any more encounters with Patricia. Well, duh! I didn't want to have any encounters with the woman in the first place but she just kept getting in my face. If I had suspected that she was mentally disturbed maybe I could have handled the confrontations differently, but that's now water under the bridge. I don't think anyone suspected how bad off she got. I'm not sure what we are going to do with her if she continues to behave irrationally. Its not like we can just Baker Act her and get her professional care at this juncture.

Dinner was a rather somber affair. Matlock was unexpectedly in Patricia's corner concerning her care. Privately I wondered why until I thought about Jenny. We don't know how profoundly she is disturbed yet either and I'm sure Matlock is concerned that how we handle Patricia's case will eventually influence what we may have to do with Jenny.

Somber or not, a lot of work had been accomplished during the day and everyone was hungry. I made a huge Spaghetti-Corn Casserole to which I added equal portions of canned ground beef and beef flavored TVP. We also had tinned Danish butter cookies that James had found in the top of a closet in one of the houses he had helped to rummage through. Samuel asked if he could take a couple of the cookies to his mom. Dixon and Rachel walked back there with him but Patricia wouldn't talk to him or even acknowledge that he was in the room. When she started to get agitated Rachel ushered everyone out of the room and stayed until Patricia was calm again and sleeping.

After dinner I had a surprise for the kids. I'm not one to use the TV as a babysitter but the adults needed to talk about the day's events. Under the circumstances you wouldn't have thought we'd be able to do it anyway but where there is a will there is a way. I took my Duracell power inverter that I had charged up with a car battery and then plugged the small TV/DVD player combo from our classroom up so that the kids could watch one movie … I figured it would last at least an hour or two before using all its charge. I left them trying to decide which one they would watch while I attended the meeting.

The Victorian is habitable but it is going to take a lot of cleaning and supplying before it is move-in ready. That task starts tomorrow and Scott is in charge of getting it there since it isn't going to be much different than our normal turn-key operations.

Matlock and McElroy are going to take the hummer and see if they can locate some likely businesses right off of US41 that would have fencing materials. Scott gave them some places to start but likely we are going to have to scavenge most everything rather than starting with new materials unless a team goes all the way out to the Home Depot and Lowe's on Dale Mabry. Cox lumber at US41 and SR54 might be another place to look but it too is further away from home and likely has already been scavenged by the enclave up at the Pasco county line.

Dante gave a report on our current supply inventory. As always food and drinkables are way too low. He asked that everyone contribute to a list of needed items that he would then copy and give out to the gathering crews as they went out. He then asked me what I thought I would need to keep the group fed. Guess I'm chief cook and bottle washer whether I want to be or not. I outlined my plans for gardening and what I expected to harvest next month; however, I also emphasized that when I had first started this I had only thought I would be feeding my own family. Feeding a group the size we were currently was going to require a lot more growing room … and a lot more help. Matlock asked me to find the time to write up a plan that was both realistic and sustainable for a group of around 50 people. That means pulling out my gardening books and trying to estimate the square feet/rows I would need for various types of produce. I would also need to plan on some type of preservation plan so that when our commercially prepared food ran out we could survive on what we can grow. That's no small task and I will be more than a few days trying to figure it out.

As the meeting was drawing to a close Dixon raised the issue of Patricia's behavior, going so far as to apologize to me. That in turn had me having to explain to Scott what he was apologizing for. Nothing like airing dirty linen in public. After I was sure that Scott wasn't going to go ballistic I cleared the air by telling everyone I wasn't taking what she said personally but it was more than a little hard to handle, especially when she was accusing me of inappropriate behavior with other men. I swear I've never seen such bright red faces. I didn't know who was more uncomfortable, the young men of the group or the older men. I explained that I never imagined that any of their tomfoolery was anything more than what it was … just kidding around. There was almost comical relief at that. Like I said before, I'm more mother figure than anything else to most of these guys and that's fine by me. I have enough trouble handling Scott; I can't imagine desiring to have multiple males on a string. That'd be more trouble than it was worth, but I did make it very clear that I had no clue why Patricia was fixating on me and that I needed help managing that. I couldn't run scared in my own home if I was going to get any constructive work accomplished, and that included getting and keeping people fed.

At that point Rachel brought up the need to find a local pharmacy or doctor's office. General medical supplies like bandaids and gauze and such were adequate but she and Waleski needed other supplies for treating major injuries, illnesses or infections, and now apparently we needed to be prepared for mental health issues. We know what we have in our group currently, but if we take in any other survivors we could be faced with who knows what kind of injuries or illnesses.

The meeting broke up when the solar lamp finally dimmed all of the way out. I hope the sun is back out tomorrow so that we can get these things charged back up. The wind ups are great, but I still prefer the solar ones.

Everyone headed off to bed with a ton of things bouncing around in their heads. In fact I couldn't fall to sleep so I've sat up writing in this journal probably much later than I should have. There is a lot of work to get done and something tells me we aren't going to have as much time to do it in as we could wish.


	44. Day Fifty-Five

**Day 55**

Why is it that life lessons so often come when you are least in the mood learn them?

I haven't had a chance to sit down and journal for several days now. Those of us who have thus far been able to avoid this upper respiratory thing that is going around have been kept busy taking up the slack of those who have caught it.

The rain hasn't stopped. Well, it's let up here and there so it isn't as constant as it was at first but it's still at least drizzling, if not outright raining, more often than not. The dampness has only exacerbated everyone's discomfort. I swear I've begun to wonder if I'll ever sleep on dry sheets again.

Scott hasn't gotten sick thank goodness but keeping the bandage on his leg dry was a challenge until they decided to stick with only interior repairs and maintenance for the Victorian. Rachel and Waleski have been kept busy taking care of 20-some people. Scott and I, Rachel and Waleski, and Matlock are the only ones that haven't had any symptoms … yet. Every single one of the kids has it to one degree or other. Jenny is the worst off of the kids. Matt is heartbreakingly concerned. If he isn't on guard duty or on Gathering Runs, he is sitting by her side or has her in his lap. Tom and Jenny might not be his biologically but they are in every other meaningful way that counts. It's quite a contrast to what one would expect from a man his size and stereotyped appearance.

The two sickest adults are Patricia and Jose'. Both are still bed ridden but Jose' should be up and around day after tomorrow at the latest. Patricia on the other hand seems to be getting worse. The worst of that though is that she is so combative and resistant to any kind of care. There is no doubt that she is deteriorating. The upper respiratory infection is turning into bronchitis or maybe even pneumonia. So far Rachel says her lungs, though raspy and damp, don't sound excessively comprised.

Never again will I pray for patience 'cause as surely as I do, someone like Patricia will come along. I know that I'm not always the easiest person in the world to get along with and its been a real trial to see how my own traits, if allowed to get out of hand, could easily make me just like Patricia, only without the excuse of her attack. Its not just been a trial, its been eye-opening and has given me a lot to think about right when the last thing I have is time for self-examination and introspection.

Matlock and Waleski were forced to make a run to four local stores looking for meds both for Patricia and to treat the respiratory infections being experienced by our group. First they went two miles north to Sunset Blvd and US41 and hit the Walgreens and the pharmacy at Winn Dixie. Both had already been ransacked but mainly for narcotics. The OTC meds were knocked all over the floor but were still salvageable, as were most of the other non-narcotics. The meds that required refrigeration however were history which left out some of the antibiotic options for the kids.

They didn't run into any real trouble despite Winn Dixie having several zombies wandering the empty food aisles. They checked the loading docks and found nothing of food value but did locate a bunch of wooden pallets that might come in handy for something. They moved them into a corner for later collection. They had better luck in the upstairs security office. It looked like a manager or employee had tried to save back some stock from the mob of rioters. There was a large stash of canned meats, soups, vegetables, gravies, sauces, and fruits; hundreds of pounds of sugar, flour, and pastas; and a lot of candy and junk food. There was also a lot of booze but that was left behind and locked up since they only had so much room in the hummer and so much time to grab necessities.

After dropping everything off to Dante for inventorying, they added David and Cease to their team and headed south on US41 for two miles and hit Publix and CVS. The CVS was a total wash. Being on the busy corner of Florida and Bearss Avenues it had seen multiple break-ins and even a minor fire. Publix was in much the same condition as Winn Dixie only with more zombies. The back loading dock was heavily infested but contained a surprising bonus. Apparently some group had thought to make the store their base of operations. They failed, overrun by rioters, other looters, or zombies. But they left a small cache of weapons and ammo. Not exactly what you would expect to pick up on a grocery run but appreciated nonetheless.

David asked if they could check out one more place before heading home and Matlock, after hearing where, agreed so long as it was a quick stop. The day was getting late. The Feed Depot lies on the corner of Nebraska and Bearrs Avenues. Nebraska and Florida merge at what is locally known as the Apex to form US41. Publix lies within the point of the Apex. This creates a normally easily travelled triangle-shaped area of mixed residential and commercial buildings. Unfortunately while it was just a mile and a half from Publix to the Feed Depot, it was a rough ride. Cars had been literally forced off of the I275 overpass onto Nebraska Avenue below. Vehicles of all shapes and sizes lined every lane including the center median; in some places the curbs as well. The hummer traversed the mess only to be met with a large number of zombies surrounding the building. Matlock was ready to give the location a pass when Cease spotted someone on the roof of the tightly shuttered building waving a white towel to get their attention.

Long story short, after sanitizing a significant number of zombies and blocking the remainder in a fenced-in enclosure where large equipment was kept, we have four more enclave members; three females and one male. Isadora Hernandez is in her late 50s and her granddaughter Josephine who is Rose's age. They are the only survivors of an RV full of family who were caught on the Interstate when all hell seemed to break loose. Two out of two dozen; totally horrifying. Rebecca Dalton is a thirty-something divorce' who had already seen hard times before NRS was even thought about; she lost her two children when a drunk driver crossed the median killing them and her ex-husband during a weekend visitation. She was a clerk at the Feed Depot and thought about the storm-proof doors when trying to find a place to hide from the mob that had taken over her neighborhood. Ricky Jones was the 16 year old nephew of the Depot's owner. Ricky headed for the Depot simply because he hadn't known what else to do.

In addition to the survivors the Feed Depot has yielded up two pallets of dent corn, five pallets of oats, a pallet of wheat, and a freaking boatload of millet. All of that is animal grade rather than packaged for human consumption, but luckily none of it is treated. Sieving, cleaning, and a little extra processing should render the grains useable for our purposes … at least I hope so. I'm going to give it the old college try after everyone has gotten over what's going around. No sense in wasting food right now.

Waleski overcame his previous sensibilities and grabbed all the fish antibiotics off the shelves. And David grabbed some of the smaller farm implements so that I wouldn't have to do so much with my hands alone. Apparently James, who was also an avid gardener before all of this occurred, mentioned something to him which is one of the reasons why he asked to visit the Feed Depot in the first place. Matlock managed to rig a trailer to the hummer – they came back by way of Bearss to Florida and then north to the Apex – which meant that they were also able to bring back some large horse troughs and a dozen rain barrels which will let us take better advantage of the rain catchment system. Lord knows we may need it later if we can't dig a shallow well to use a hand pump on or set up solar power to operate a deeper well.

The largesse didn't end there. I don't have to worry where I am going to get seeds and fertilizer for the garden plan Matlock asked for. And Becky is a font of knowledge about what works best with what, analyzing soil, and sundry other stuff like that. And we also now have a good supply of propane. It won't last forever but if used judiciously as a supplement to solar cooking and open pit cooking it should last into the new year barring unforeseen circumstances. There is also a large underground tank of diesel fuel but we don't have any place to store it if we could pump it out right now. To try and save it the guys set tractor tires over the small farm pump and rolled a tractor over the top of the plate where the fuel was dumped in, hopefully to disguise the supply. A local with any commonsense will remember it eventually but barring the other three enclaves we know about – Keel Outpost, the one off of SR54 in Pasco County, and Driscoll's several miles south off of Hillsborough Avenue and 50th Street – there doesn't appear to be any other organized groups out and about. That could change rapidly however and Dixon and Matlock both are concerned about further civil unrest once everyone realizes that law and order has truly broken down.

The bad news that sets off against all the good is that my house now holds 32 people and we aren't much closer to getting any of the other houses move-in ready. We are also running out of storage space though both those things sound petty to even mention under the circumstances.

Of course the new group members come with their own unique talents and personalities. Isadora was a counselor at a mental health clinic at USF that took a holistic approach to treatment. She can't prescribe psychotropics, though she isn't against their use, but with over 30 years experience she is well-versed in creating and administering therapeutic treatment plans that use other methods such as behavioral modification therapy and some natural supplements. She has already made strides with Hall who, unbeknownst to me, was beginning to suffer severe anxiety attacks. He still can't handle the idea of being Kitty's father and Isadora confided in me, as Kitty's primary caregiver, he many never be able to develop a parental bond with her. That means that Scott and I are another step closer to fully adopting her. Patricia wants nothing to do with Isadora and Jenny is too sick for any kind of consultation, but we all hope that she can help them to improve as well. Dora, as he prefers to be called, has stepped up and made some tentative suggestions regarding schedules and mandatory down time as preventive measures against potential stress-related issues. I'm also working with her on some dietary issues I'm concerned about.

Josephine is much worldlier than Rose is, but less mature at the same time. It'll be interesting to see how she eventually fits in with our younger crowd. She's a little … ok, more than a little … boy crazy and is flirting with most of the males that haven't chosen to avoid her. Jose' eats up the attention, David gets irritated if he has to spend more than a few minutes in her company, James gets uncomfortable and shuts down, Cease just kind of stands there with his mouth hanging open, and Ricky acts like her attention is his due. The older guys pretty much consider her jail-bate and hide when she starts up. Oh yeah its gonna get interesting around here real quick. At least Rose doesn't seem to mind her though you wouldn't say they were exactly likely to get close any time soon either.

Becky Dalton is already turning into a good friend. She, Tina, and I share the chore of providing the group with three meals a day. Tom, Matlock's son, is fascinated by her. She apparently bears a striking resemblance to his mother; enough that she even startled Matlock the first time he saw her. If I was a betting woman I would give it a better than even chance that Becky and Matlock eventually try for a less than casual connection. Tom and Jenny could stand a mother figure in their lives and Matt's too good a man to remain alone for the rest of his life. She's a good organizer as well which has taken some of the burden of creating chore charts off my shoulders and allowed me to focus on the things I need to work on.

Our last new person is a spoiled brat. Ricky even gets on Dixon's nerves and that takes some doing. He has to be watched 24/7 or he gets into the food and other supplies without permission. He burned through several packages of batteries on his handheld electronic game before Dante caught him. Someone has to waste time standing practically on top of him to make sure he does his share of the work he is assigned. When he does have down time he spends it complaining or starting fights. Its like having another Patricia on our hands only he has no excuse for his behavior … or at least none better than what other members of our group have.

The last couple of days have seen more than just the addition of new people and supplies. While the Victorian won't be ready as soon as hoped Scott says another week should do it now that we've scavenged enough sealer and paint out of all the sheds and garages in the neighborhood to cover the mildew and minor vandalism damage. The fence is going to have to be reinforced and raised as well where it abuts the lowland territory. Fewer zombies come from that direction but some still make it through. Now the problem is gators believe it or not. With the rains the water table rose and the canal that dumps into the marshy area has turned it into a swamp. And the gators are feeding well on zombie corpses. Scott went over there day before yesterday only to find a big fat sassy bull gator sitting on the back porch where it had crawled up under the fence on the canal side. We aren't sure how eating zombie is going to affect their flesh so we opted not to "harvest" the tail for dinner, but it was a near thing. Everyone is missing fresh food and my little patch of greens never seem to go far enough.

Scott says before the Victorian is finished they really need to decide which house they want him to work on next that way he can make a list and start lining up supplies which will mean less down time. The people who will move into the Victorian was decided at last night's meeting. Dixon, Patricia, Samuel, Dora, Josephine, Hall, Rachel, and Waleski will move into the four bedroom house. The downstairs office will double as Dixon's bunk space until Patricia's condition stabilizes. Patricia is being put in one of the upstairs bedrooms that Scott added features to like reinforced screening on the windows, removing the shelving in the closet, and adding a better lock to the door. Those measures might not be needed, but better safe than sorry until she is more cooperative with Dora's attempts at treatment.

McElroy and Junie – Junie Tinsdale, the only female of our group I've been unable to get to know – came up with a potential answer to both our fencing and our storage problems. There are some serious drawbacks but also some real potential benefits. Those metal storage and shipping containers could be used like building blocks to create a sturdy "fence" around a significant space of our choice. The pros to this would be: the ability to have a significant amount of storage space without using up our internal green space that we want to use for gardening and staging; we can cover an 8 by 12 foot or 8 by 16 foot section with the placement of just one steel container drastically reduce the labor of building a fence; there is a "Pod" storage facility approximately 5 miles south of our street on Nebraska Avenue near the Salvation Army headquarters. The cons to this plan would be: that the resulting fence might attract unwanted attention, the storage containers wouldn't work on curvy sections like the edge of the canals where weight might also be an issue; and, most of all, the logistics of getting the storage containers to our location. Using James' map we've pretty much decided on two different compound sizes; one is our ideal and includes the entire orange grove, all the property to our east up to the next street, and all the property between that's bounded by the two canals. That would give us six, maybe eight, houses to spread out into and plenty of green space between. But that is also a lot of space to patrol. Our next area size down would eliminate the orange grove, the lowland territory to the west of the Victorian, and all but two other houses leaving us with four houses to spread out into. The final result will probably be a compromise between the two plans. Either way Scott and I stated that we would not take down our fence but that we would be willing to be the fall-back location should our resulting compound ever become compromised in some way.

There is also a way to refurbish those storage containers so that they can be used for housing. Waleski was interested in the idea of turning one or two into a medical station or at the very least a medicinal storage location that could be double secured. The younger guys, including David, thought the idea of turning the containers into barrack style housing was "cool" where each single guy could have his own apartment. Hmmm. That sounds like a lot more work but we may come to that if we outgrow our safe area too quickly. I think the feasibility would lie in whether those containers can be kept weather proof and what their wind tolerance is. I sure wouldn't want to see our fence – or barracks – rolling across the neighborhood in hurricane strength winds.

Something Cease thought about adding to our fence line was a few of those free standing hunting stands. I'd want to see them reinforced in some way, but it would certainly add to our line of sight.

I've gotten about half of the draft garden plan finished. We are now up to thirty-two people so I'm going to have to revise some of my "minimum" figures and probably revise upward the contingency figures of fifty people to sixty or seventy-five as well. My gardening books like Square Foot Gardening, and Gardening in Florida are spread all over my dresser top. I keep thinking of potential problems like irrigating that much garden and other things like that. But, I can only do so much and will tell the group as much when I'm finally ready to make the presentation.

Right now the rain is keeping the zombie population disorganized … oh, you know what I mean. I know they don't work together but they do have the appearance of sometimes acting like a mob. The rain can't last forever and then we will be back to dealing with the zombies head on. I'd like to have some of our plans firmed up and actually being physically worked on. The idea of trying to get things done without a fence to keep the zombies, or other undesirables, away isn't appealing at all.


	45. Day 59

Day 59

I've given up trying to write in this journal every day. If it happens, it happens but if it doesn't I'm not going to get all upset about it. Life takes priority over my personal desires.

Its finally stopped raining but it is incredibly soggy. As warm as it still is there hasn't been a lot of direct sunlight to dry things up. High humidity is also impeding the drying up process. And, no direct sunlight has made drying the laundry and cooking by solar next to impossible. I've been using my box ovens frequently over the last few days to save on propane and they work well for bread. We've found lots of pieces of bags of charcoal while going through the garages and sheds of the abandoned houses in our neighborhood. One of the big hits of the last couple of days has been the night that I made pizza. OK, it was kinda weak pizza but under the circumstances everyone enjoyed it. I used Parmesan and Romano cheese to replace the mozzarella I would have normally had. I also made some pan cheese with powdered milk but it was only so-so as a pizza topping. Next time I'll try flavoring it with Italian seasoning first to see if that makes it any better. We found a #10 can of Ragu Pizza Sauce in the Winn Dixie stockpile and I used that to top the nearly twenty-five individual sized pizzas that I cooked. I had four box ovens going and I rotated out the pizzas as fast as I could cook them up so that the coals would last as long as I needed them too. For toppings I took a large stick of pepperoni I had, chopped it rather than sliced it, and mixed it with some sausage flavored TVP. The grease from the pepperoni hid the soy flavor of the TVP. I also had a few cans of mushroom pieces and black olives as well as some rehydrated green peppers and chopped onions. The pizzas weren't perfect by any stretch but the only complaint I heard came from Ricky (of course). Even Patricia seems to be doing a little better and was even polite when I asked her what she wanted on her pizza.

I don't know if it is all due to Dora's therapy and treatment plan or not but Patricia seems to be more balanced lately. She took away all processed sugar and flours from Patricia's meals. Its been a little difficult making a totally separate meal for Patricia all the time but the results have been worth it if it is truly part of her rehabilitation. The pizza crust was the first processed wheat item she has had in a while and so far no adverse reaction. The other things that Dora is trying includes chamomile tea, cold showers, fish oil tablets, and aromatherapy; that is in addition to getting Patricia to be receptive to counseling and seeing her injuries from the rape finally beginning to heal. I'm reserving judgment but am willing to give the benefit of the doubt so long as someone keeps an eye on her at all times until we can tell whether the changes are real and permanent or faked.

Jenny is also getting better, physically as well as mentally. She is still a very weak little girl but there is definite improvement. Becky has been working with her more and more. Matlock is simply too exhausted after a full day of working to do much more than sit with her and fall asleep. I think it is helping all of them – Jenny, Matlock, Tom, and Becky. Not to go into all the personal details but I think Matlock talked to Becky, explaining about his ex-wife, and finally took the time to grieve for her. And I think, though I'm not absolutely certain since I haven't known her all that long, that Becky is one of those people that need to be needed. If that is the case then she's fitting right in with the Matlock's family.

Thinking along the lines of natural remedies I've wondered what we are going to do when all of the antibiotics run out or are no longer useable. The Z-packs that Waleski found in Walgreens is basically what saved the day for several of our group members. The topical treatments that he brought back for Patricia's injuries made a big difference as well. I've got some books on herbal remedies and preventatives, some that I have from my own great grandmothers' recipe files, and books by people like Dr. Andrew Weil. I need to re-read them and get myself prepared. I hate to think that one day I may not have Rachel or Waleski to fall back on, but that may very well be what happens. Scott and I are still the ones ultimately responsible for our kids, including David, and no one is going to care as much as we are when things go wrong ... and things will go wrong, they always do. My own tub of first aid supplies remains hidden along with the fish antibiotics that I didn't give to Waleski way back when. My personal comfort level is screaming at me that I should expand these supplies and I'll do my best as I can. Right now anything new that comes in goes towards taking care of the group as a whole. It will be a while yet before we can safely begin keeping things for individual benefit beyond things like clothes.

My greatest concern right now is for baby Kitty. There is only one can of powdered formula remaining. I knew this was coming but the day is arriving way too soon. I've got a recipe for homemade "formula" but I have no idea if it is really efficacious or not. I hate having to turn this sweet baby girl into a guinea pig but what choice is there? Its either try this or watch her starve. If she was old enough for baby food I would try her on canned milk but she is only two months old. It will be another two at least before I can introduce her to anything more than rice cereal. I stocked baby food thinking it would come in handy but didn't give a thought to the more expensive formula and now it's too late. Waleski and Matlock … all the people on Gathering Runs … have kept an eye out for baby formula but no one has seen any at all.

One of the recipes I have calls for 2 (12 oz.) cans of evaporated milk, 32 ounces of water, 2 tablespoons of Karo syrup, and 3 ml of liquid infant vitamins. Waleski did grab all of the vitamins he could find and that included the liquid vitamins. I'll put up with all of his curmudgeonly ways so long as he continues to be as thoughtful as that was. I have a couple of other, more complicated, recipes for homemade baby formula that I may also try. The problem is that they call for liquid supplements that I don't have a great deal of. I've asked Waleski to make a run to the local GNC and health food store but there hasn't been time. One recipe even calls for goat milk which I only have a case of in cans (and that is in hidden pantries). I just don't know what I'm going to do if this doesn't work.

I asked Hall to keep a look out for a short list of things whenever he was out. He blushed and stammered but took the list and promised to do what he could. I know he means well but he has a real mental block when it comes to Kitty. I know he and his wife "had" to get married because of her pregnancy with Kitty and that Hall had gotten deployed right after the baby was born. I also know from what Rachel explained to me that the marriage was already all but over by the time Kitty was born. Hall wasn't ready for kids but he isn't a bad guy. I'll be honest and say that I hope he doesn't make a fuss about Scott and I keeping Kitty … but it wouldn't be completely right of us to deny him the opportunity to have something to do with her life and future either. Scott just doesn't understand Hall. He adores his own kids and can't understand how Hall can't feel the same way about Kitty. Maybe if I have a talk with Hall and try and explain that … or heck, I don't know. But the situation can't continue as is. Eventually someone is going to have to deal with it.

On to other things more cheerful … sorta kinda anyway.

Painting the Victorian has been completed ahead of schedule despite the dry-time taking longer because of the weather. Now all that is left to do is to bring in furnishings. By necessity everything needs to be efficient and ulitarian in design; at least for now. The house can't be overcrowded with geegaws as they need to keep room open in case we have to move more people over there than planned. The only exception to this is a leather sofa that Dixon has formed an unaccountable attachment to. He's in love with the blasted thing. Men can be weird about stuff like that apparently and I can't be the only woman that has noticed it.

The other advances that have been made have been on our fence and in my garden; the current one and the planned one. Next month, maybe even next week at the rate some things are beginning to ripen, I'll start to harvest a broader selection of fresh items. They won't go far but it'll be something. And as soon as our fence is completed I'll mark off and plant a very large garden with everything that is fit for planting in October on the grounds of Mabel's old home site. Mabel loved to garden and I think it is somehow appropriate that despite her place in NRS history, her land will continue to be used for this purpose.

And as for funny, guess what showed up yesterday? Chickens. Well a banty rooster and four hens anyway. I haven't a clue where they came from originally or how they escaped the zombies but the kids have had fun taking care of them after I lured them in with some of the corn and millet from the Feed Depot. Becky said she knew there were a couple of pallets of chicken feed in one of the storage rooms back at the Depot and I've asked that it be added to the list of items – like rabbit fencing, stakes, twine, and fertilizer – that is supposed to be brought back from the next run up that way. Sarah and Samuel are already talking about hoping some pigs and goats show up as well so that they can have a farm. Oh brother. I have enough trouble feeding all the kids around here. How are we going to be able to feed a whole barnyard of animals too?! But, manure from the animals could go into the compost, the chickens would make fresh eggs, the goats would provide milk and meat, and the pigs could help take care of table scraps (assuming there are any) and provide meat as well. Wow, this whole enclave thing is getting a little more medieval-serf every time I turn around.

Now as for our main fence we've done two thing. McElroy has experience driving a commercial tractor trailer. Its what he did before entering the military. He was able to get one hooked up to a flatbed and has used it to transport six steel storage containers at a time from the storage facility near Fletcher Ave up to our road. Jose' knows how to run a forklift due to being taught by a foreman at the sugar plantation where his father and older brothers worked down near Loxahatchee, FL.

Dixon went on the run along with McElory, Jose', Hall, and Cease. Matlock organized the remaining group members to install 12-foot aluminum chain link fencing in areas that weren't appropriate for the storage containers such as along the canal edges.

One of the compromises we would have to make became obvious almost before the first storage container was placed. We were going to have to enclose most of the lowland territory but in order to do that and still have enough materials to complete a full enclosure as planned we had to give up roughly half of the orange grove. No one is happy about that but nothing else has proven logistically feasible.

We swiped two sets of gates from a local car dealership near Florida and Fletcher Avenues. They are incredibly sturdy things and then even have razor wire at the top already. They'll be our front and back main entrances.

How it worked was Dixon and his crew went to the warehouse. Jose' would use a forklift to load the containers onto the wide-load flatbed that McElroy drove. The forklift was then attached to the back of the flatbed. Coming back the first time was painfully slow but a tow truck borrowed from a local mechanic's shop moved the road blockages off to the side enough to allow the big truck through. Once the flatbed arrived back here, Jose' would use the forklift to take the containers off of the flatbed and position them.

None of the containers have been emptied and eventually I'd love to go through them all; but as it is, because they are positioned end-to-end we can only go through every sixth container and only then until they come with the next load. The ones we have managed to break into are mostly full of the junk people can't fit into their houses – holiday decorations and the like – but we have found some things of potential use.

We've pulled all of the clothes and linens; most of our people are still woefully low on clothing options despite picking up some stuff form the neighborhood. Guys like Matlock and Dixon aren't exactly an easy fit and I swear Dante has to have some of the longest legs I've ever seen on a guy. Bicycles will come in handy as well; David told me he could build a pedal-powered grain mill using some bicycle parts and one of my hand crank mills. I hope he isn't just blowing smoke because the last thing I want to do is try and use the ancient method of mortar and pestle to turn grain into flour to make bread for 30+ people. We've also found a few toys and books that will help keep the kids occupied though I still hope to see them back to having at least a couple of hours of learning time each day as well as helping with all of the gardening tasks to come.

In that same vain I'm making a list of supplies for the kids. The problem, for now, is that none of them are necessities and they are at the bottom of the lists for the Gathering Runs. Crayons, markers, construction paper, chalk, clay, etc. as well as pens, pencils, and notebook paper. When we've yet to fully secure the big three – food, clothing, and shelter – nothing else can be made a priority unless an emergency arises (such as the medicines). And we also have the issue of ammo. The more we go out, the more ammo that gets used. Its been a rare day that more ammo is brought in than was expended. We did find a house in the neighborhood with some expensive bow hunting equipment, but even that is limited to the number of arrows we can find and/or retrieve. That's just one reason why our wall is going to be so important.

Another reason is that we've started to hear more sporadic gunfire. Its hard to tell how far away it is. We still aren't used to the unnatural quiet of an unplugged city. The only vehicles we've heard are our own and what Jose' described as sounding like a couple of "crotch rockets" heading south and away from our position. You still hear the occasional scream but none close enough to investigate. No way of knowing if the screams are of fear or pain or whether they are due to zombies or human predators. All of this leaves us knowing there are other people in the city, but what shape they are in and how they would view us remains to be seen.

Matlock did make a disheartening discovery yesterday. He took a patrol over to Keel Outpost to see what shape they were in and to try and create some type of communication system, at least between groups within our immediate area. At some point, likely at least a week ago due to the condition of some of the bodies too badly damaged to reanimate, the Outpost had been overrun. The patrol members hypothesized it was by zombies rather than by a mob, the reason being that things you would think of value for survival were still just laying around. Guns, equipment, and a modest amount of food and ammo. Hall was happy to have the radio set up, now we just need power to operate it consistently. We are charging car batteries as fast as we can but fuel is getting harder to find. Without sunshine solar is out. There is the diesel at the Feed Depot so we aren't totally without but that's being used to operate the tractor trailer so we can build our wall. Things are going to get hairy when we use up all of our closest supply options.

Its not easy for me to believe that tomorrow is going to mark the two-month anniversary of our family's choice to sequester in the face of NRS. We aren't really sequestering any more, at least not in the strictest sense of the word. Scott, James, and David have gone on some of the Gathering Runs farther away than our street but the girls and I have hardly left our yard during that whole time. We are still clearing out the odd zombie that manages to get through where the fence isn't complete. One even got into the orange grove and started banging on our fence. I sanitized the putrid thing but it was too late. It scared the kids badly and we are back to square one trying to get them to at least sit on the lanai during the day rather than hide inside. The fence is incredibly important. Its almost symbolic. I hope it help me to get the kids outside long enough each day to avoid them developing agoraphobia. Dora agrees with me but only in an academic way. She seems to reserve most of her emotional attachment and energy for her granddaughter and Rachel Rigosa. I guess as a counselor she has had to learn to develop boundaries but to me hers are a little rigid.

Last thing and then I'm carrying my tired and sore hind end off to bed and hopefully to sleep. I've got some math that should drive the average person crazy. The average 100 foot row of carrots will yield 100 pounds. It takes about 5 to 10 feet of row per person to provide enough fresh carrots for the average growing season. That does not include preserving any carrots for future use. We currently have thirty-two people in our group and should probably plan on sixty or more to allow for a reasonable cushion; or, for an excess that we could preserve for trade with other enclaves. At a minimum, if my figures are correct, I need to plant 160 feet of carrots (5 x 32) and probably double that so that we have enough to preserve which would give 320 feet of carrots, minimum. If I bump up the number that I'm planting for to sixty then that would mean that I would need to plant 300 feet of carrots for fresh use and 600 to include enough to preserve! That's only carrots. Six hundred freaking feet of carrots which means I have roughly 600 pounds of carrots that I will eventually have to harvest and process.

Let's take another veggie just to be fair; something simple like onions. You need about 25 onion plants per person. For our group that means for 32 people I need 800 onions … 800! Take that up to 60 people and that means 1500 onions. I am having the heebies even trying to envision all of the work involved.

When I present this at the weekly planning meeting coming up in a couple of days no one is going to believe me. Everyone is going to have to take part in gardening chores, there is simply no way that a single person – or even half dozen people - can do this manually all by themselves. Remember no tractors, no automatic sprinkler system, and very few other labor saving devices either. I think I may have the start of a decent design for a drip irrigation system but its going to require constructing a sort of water tower that can be kept filled. I'll use gravity to run the water through a main distribution pipe that will branch off into different sections of the garden using all of the garden hoses we can find. It won't have to run all of the time, just when rain gets scarce. We are also going to need a lot of mulch and compost to build up the soil so that we optimize the amount of harvest we get from each food of row.

I'm nervous as heck about this. This garden is turning into a lot more of a responsibility than I had expected.


	46. Day 61

**Day 61**

Our fence is 90% complete. But that remaining 10% is critical. We are still having problems trying to close the fence on the other side of the lowland terrain. That's a real concern. During the first few zombie hordes that area funneled some walking corpses right into the orange grove and passed our house. We've decided not to move anyone into the other houses until we can get that taken care of because it is such a security risk. Despite the rise in the water over in the swampy area, and despite the gators taking their share for dinner, if enough zombies (or humans) wanted through that way, it would still be the easiest way into our compound.

We did manage to fence in everything else except for the part of the orange grove we had to give up. As soon as we get that last 10% of enclosure completed we will have seven hours to spread out into, eight if you count the little one bedroom shack in the orange grove. However we probably won't use it for living space because its just a 1929 wooden bungalow and would be to hard to permanently secure.

As things are planned:  
Our house: Our original family of eight plus Kitty, Sis, and Bubby for a total of 11  
Victorian: Dixon, Patricia, Samuel, Dora, Josephine, Hall, Rachel, Waleski  
House #3: Dante, Tina, Bo, and Laura plus the clerical office of all the stuff that Dante is responsible for such as our inventories, duplicate maps, etc.  
House #4: Jose', Cease, McElroy, and Ricky. This place will basically become the unattached males' barrack.  
House #5: Junie and Becky so far. This house will be the unattached females' barrack.  
House #6: Matlock, Tom, and Jenny  
House #7: Vacant  
Orange Grove Bungalow: potential radio shack and/or guard station

This plan has been agreed on by the whole group and still allows some flexibility. I expect Becky to eventually move in with Matlock and his kids. If/when Patricia stabilizes and no longer needs constant supervision and/or medical care then Dora and Josephine can move into the women's barrack. Rachel and Waleski said where they move may depend on what kind of medical care our group needs, otherwise they'll probably go to the "barracks" eventually as well assuming we don't turn house #7 into a med center. We've got room for more people … heck we have thirty-two people in our house alone – but realistically for long-term habitability I wouldn't want to see more than 40 or 50 people in a compound the size we currently are.

Personally I'm beginning to feel that we have one too many people as it is. That Ricky. Honest to goodness. I have to say he is one of the most irritating kids I ever remember encountering, including when I was a kid his age myself. I remember a few over the years that were pretty bad, but no one so intentionally disobedient and ungovernable that way he is. He knows what is right and wrong, he simply chooses not to do it. He smiles and nods his head all the while planning to spit in your face again. Our situation exaggerates everything he does too. One top of everything else he is very mean to the younger kids; purposefully saying things, telling stories, and even lying to play on their fears. He finally did that and made Bekah cry the other day and James whooped his butt. Unfortunately the rules that have been established include no fighting – yeah, they made that rule in response to the troubles that Patricia and I were having and some of the other tiffs that had started – so James was given extra grunt work and lost the chance to go on an away Run. Publicly he acted upset over the punishment. Privately he told Scott and I that he'd do it again only he would have fought dirtier and really hurt Ricky to him out of commission for a while. What are Scott and I supposed to say to something like that? "Good job, just next time beat the total crap out of the bully"? I agree with his defending his little sister but I also understand the need for absolute rules. Life isn't fair and this is just one of those lessons I guess.

I'm not sure what we are going to do about Ricky in the long term. It might take some pretty strong peer pressure to control him but I'm not sure that even that will work. He's only 16. We haven't even thought about what to do with people who are multiple offenders of the enclave rules. Exile? House arrest? Those are pretty stiff penalties for being annoying and disrespectful, though Ricky is gradually pushing the boundaries even further. There's just something sly about Ricky that I can't trust. I mean as annoying as I find Josephine's sex-kitten act, its more than apparent that's all it is, an act. Ricky's behavior is deliberate and specifically designed for maximum effect. I'm trying to leave Ricky to Dixon and Matlock but I don't think they're taking the problems he is causing seriously enough. I really just don't trust that kid.

Speaking of finding solutions for problems, I finally tried using the millet. The texture is … different. It reminds me of eating birdseed. Some people really liked it at dinner last night and some only ate it so they wouldn't go hungry. Its one of the few items that I've ever had leftovers of since I started cooking for the group. I was a little embarrassed. But waste not, want not. I found a different way to feed it to the group that people liked much better. I poured the leftovers into a bread loaf pan lined with plastic wrap and allowed it to congeal over night. This morning I popped it out of the pan, sliced it, dredged the slices in flour, and then fried them crispy. It was about like fried grits or fried mush; not bad, not something I would want to eat every day, but not bad. I wish I had thought to print more recipes like this before the power failed. For all I know the whole Internet has failed and all of that info is lost to me forever.

Hall got the radio up and running. He didn't pick up much at first and he was only receiving. Dix doesn't want us transmitting until we have a better handle on what is transpiring. He finally picked up chatter from some of those walkie talkie things, the ones I used to see people running around the theme parks with. Given the limited range of those things we now know we've got other people operating in this area. Its not like we've got sole custody of it like a territory, but its hard not to feel that way somewhat. The people on the hand-helds didn't seem concerned with people hearing their conversations so either they are unaware that their signal is unsecured or they don't think they have anyone to worry about or consider a threat. If the latter is the case then they either have significant fire power at their disposal or don't think there are any people in the area stronger than they are. They might not even be from this area originally at all. We've been making enough noise to draw an uncomfortable number of zombies that we have been forced to sanitize and I'm sure we would have been heard by people in this area as well.

We've actually found a different way to sanitize than using our ammo. Dixon decided to keep the tow truck because he figured its towing and wrench package would come in handy. Well what Cease and Jose' have done is to reinforce the cab. Once or twice a day a team will run the tow truck around the perimeter of our "fence" and roll right over the top of any zombie in their path. It creates a significant amount of gore – and smell – but it saves on ammo which is an ever present concern. Not to be gross, but one of these days that dirt is going to be incredibly fertile from all of organic matter being mixed up in it.

Because of the radio chatter tonight's meeting was mainly given over to discussion of prioritizing our Gathering Runs over the fence issue for the next couple of days. First thing in the morning they are going to finish cleaning out the Feed Depot. They've been topping off the vehicles from the diesel storage tank but McElory and David also found a way to bring some back to our enclave. All of the gas containers we've been able to find get filled up at every fuel run. When we were laying the shipping containers through the orange grove we found a 1,000 gallon manually pumped fuel tank. I never knew it was there but it must have belonged to the orange grove operator before they sold the land to the housing developer. They actually moved the fence another twenty-feet to have the well inside the compound. Its slow going, but the tank is getting filled slowly but surely and will be a huge boon to our group. But moving the fence is what left us short to fully enclose the lowland terrain. We had held back a few storage containers so that they could be used for storage or converted to additional housing at some point but we may have to use them to complete the fence. Choices. Choices.

And as for choices, Scott finally backed off his insistence that I not go on any of the away Gathering Runs. I was given the choice of going on a run to get my long list of things and wanted for the kids or waiting – perhaps indefinitely – until another run could be put together for that purpose. Scott would remain behind working on the next house so its not like the kids would be without a parent. I'm not insensitive to the way Scott feels, after all I've been there numerous times myself, but its important that I do this.

There are things we really need that the guys just don't think about until they need it. My straight pins, sewing needles, and safety pins are disappearing as fast as I can find replacements. Scissors get dull and used for things they shouldn't like cutting wire or hard plastic. I need more cloth diapers, or something I can make diapers with, for Kitty. Bottles, bottle liners, nipples, pacifiers, etc. are also needed. If she was being breastfed we could avoid all of that but …

Super glue, liquid nails, wood glue, elmer's glue, pvc glue, duct tape, electrical tape, etc. Dante' is also needing toner for the printer he uses, paper, folders, push pins, paper clips, pens, pencils, etc.

Its not just the big things, the obvious things, that we need. Its all of the little stuff you don't think about much until you can't find one.

As I suspected feminine hygiene items are near the top of the list of scarce items. So is soap, toothpaste and deodorant … definitely deodorant. So is foot powder, q-tips, and condoms. None of the guys put those on their list but a couple of the women did. At least some of us are thinking proactively, or at least protectively. Even as an experience mother I would go nuts at the idea of being pregnant in the times we find ourselves in now.

I have one more day to work on my lists. Tomorrow is primarily going to be dedicated to bringing in everything from the Feed Depot and going back over some of the houses immediately outside our compound with a finer comb now that we have more storage.

Those not involved with the two main projects will be helping me. Rose, with Sarah and Laura to help, will be watching the youngest children and watching the stew I'll start simmering right after breakfast. James will be both muscle and look out for us. Samuel, Bo, and I will lay the ground work for a "humanure" composting station out in the orange grove. Eventually I hope we won't need it, but the dry season will be here before we know it and wasting water by dumping it down a toilet isn't going to be feasible. The resulting humanure compost will be great as a soil amendment as well; if not in the vegetable garden, certainly around some of the larger fruit trees.

At least I don't have to worry about what Ricky will be into tomorrow. Dixon has him on the Depot detail. The threat of the infected corpses seems to be the only thing that keeps him in line.

Lunch today was a very simple affair but frankly it was just too hot to do much cooking. My cut-and-come-again greens have just about given all they have so I cut them all one last time and used them to make several large bowls of tossed salad to which I mixed in some quartered grape tomatoes that have begun to come in, some croutons I found, some real bacon bits, thin sliced radishes, and some edible flower petals (mostly calendula petals and bee balm). Then I made what feels like a ton of flour tortillas and a couple of different hummus recipes. I made five gallons of sweet solar tea – three regular, two herbal. I thought the guys would pitch a fit but they just seemed happy to have the fresh food.

For dinner I fixed cornbread, white beans, stewed potatoes, and fruit cocktail cobbler. Can I say I love my Dutch ovens? Over a fire or buried under coals they've really saved my tail feathers when trying to cook for this crowd. I don't think my modern pots and pans would have survived. Becky and Tina have thoughtfully brought me every piece of cast iron cookware they've run across. Tomorrow Becky, who is going on the Depot Run, has promised to bring me back some really big pieces. The owners of the Depot were members of a re-enactors' club that went camping as settlers at the Mountain Men Rendezvous, Civil War Re-enactments, and Seminole War re-enactments. She said the back room is stuffed with a bunch of stuff they used to use for those trips. She also knows of a place not too far away where a man she used to date stored a bit kettle and supplies he used to make and sell kettle korn at the Big Top Flea Market every weekend.

I never would have thought about something like that coming in handy. Its this kind of group think that we were missing when it was just Scott, I, and the kids. Adding David to our household helped but now we have collaboration on a much larger scale. There is a price to be paid – primarily in the loss of independence – but the benefits, so far, outweigh the costs.

Since tomorrow is going to be such a busy day I went ahead and made breakfast tonight as well. I found my recipe that uses dried banana chips to make banana bread. I don't have any nuts but that's not really a problem. After the loaves cooled I wrapped them in plastic wrap and aluminum foil so they wouldn't dry out and then I set them in my handy-dandy homemade cooler.

My evaporation cooler is pretty nifty. I took two very large clay pots that fit inside one another from Mabel's a lifetime ago. The space between the two pots I filled with clean, damp sand. The evaporation of the water out of the sand and through the pots' clay walls keeps anything put into the inner chamber (empty smaller pot) to remain cool; not cold. I covered the top with a scrap piece of plywood to keep the bugs out.

I need to feed Kitty one more time and then we're all off to bed. The homemade formula is working find but is why more diapers are critical. She isn't as colicky with the homemade stuff but her diapers are a much bigger mess. What I wouldn't give to find a stash of disposable diapers, even it was only a package or two. At least I would get a break from washing nasty diapers.

No, I refuse to end this journal entry on a complaint. Despite everything life is throwing at us we are also getting our share of blessings. We are all healthy again. Patricia is acting better and better, she's actually glowing a little bit if you want to know the truth. Kitty is eating like a little pig and growing like a weed. We've nearly finished the fence and the zombies aren't gone but are at least manageable in numbers.


	47. Day Sixty-Five

**Day 65**

Where do I start? At the beginning I suppose makes the most sense although saying anything makes sense right now is crazy.

The day of the Feed Depot Run was nearly perfect; it went off without a single hitch. From the early breakfast of banana bread right on through the remainder of the day. How were any of us to know that a disaster had been set in motion just because a watchful eye had given too much credit and looked away for too long? That the excitement of great finds would ultimately leave us so vulnerable?

When I say the day had been nearly perfect I mean it. The bounty that was brought back from there alone was astonishing. Becky was so right about the suttler merchandise and equipment. There was tubs of cloth and patterns, and other stuff that you might find in an old timey mercantile store. There was also all the personal camp equipment – cast iron cauldrons and three-legged spiders that could be used like griddles; cots and bedrolls; a couple of large canvas tents; flints and knives; the list goes on and on.

The run also brought in pool chemicals; more animal feed; a big dog run we were going to turn into a chicken coop; more fertilizer and soil amendments; fencing, posts, wires; and lots of shovels, rackes, and hoes and things I don't even know the names for.  
The closer inspection of houses in the neighborhood was also proving fertile. Items that the men had passed over the women knew to bring in. Absolutely mothering that had the least food value went uncollected: spices, herbs and other seasonings; boxes of jell-o; rounds of salt; boxes of bread crumbs. That's to name on a few such items the men had missed. Then shoes and clothes for the kids. Sheets and blankets that would come in handy when people finally separated into the planned living quarters. Every house seemed to have a supply of matches and candles; some even had lamp oil and at least one lamp. All the long-life, low-watt bulbs were snatched as were flashlights and batteries out of children's toys. So much was brought in that Dante' gave up on his inventory and simply started having people separate what they could into appropriate locations and containers.

The weather was near perfect as well. The humidity was really low, even for October and the highest the thermometer made it was 85. It felt so nice.

The kids behaved themselves. The food was great. And the only serious zombie threat was one that was accidentally encountered in the attic of one of the houses that was being searched. Junie took care of it quickly and sealed the now permanently dead corpse away and marked the house off as a biohazard.

The kids had even thought to air out the house for us. Its amazing how much better you can sleep in a fresher smelling house.

The next day we got up and it was business as usual. Becky and Tina said they would cook breakfast, a large pot of porridge that people could add dried fruit to, while we made final preparations for the run to Sunset Plaza. The run included Rachel Rigosa, Cease, and myself. We took an F350 long-bed truck that had been abandoned on US41. We put plywood in the back to use as walls in case we needed to pile bags above the sides of the bed. There was an enclosed trailer behind the post office we hoped to fill and bring back with us as well.

The day before had gone so well we were all in high spirits. In hindsight its clear that there was one person acting out of character and shrill alarms should have been sounding in all of our heads.

Scott and the kids (all of them whether they were mine or not) gave me a hug and kiss goodbye and I received a few last minute requests – balloons, a yo-yo, a jump rope, a magnifying glass, and sunglasses. I dutifully wrote each item down in my notepad, stuck that back in my pocket, and left the relative safety of our compound for the first time in over two months. Yes, I was nervous but exhilarated at the same time.

I would have been quite a sight to the friends I had a year ago. I was dressed to make as little noise as possible with soft-soled shoes and nothing that would jangle or catch on my clothes. My .22 rifle was cradled in my arm, barrel pointed down. They had also issued me a hand gun. They told me it was a .357 magnum with a six-inch barrel … but basically it was big, shiny, and I swear nearly broke my hand the first couple of times I used it. But that was later. At that time we went unmolested down the road to where the truck awaited. There were a few wandering zombies but we had knocked the population back a bit so they were farther between and easier to avoid

The F350 started up a little rough but it finally kicked over and smoothed out as we went north to the intersection of US41 and Sunset Blvd even before the sun fully cleared the horizon. The first place we hit was the Post Office where we hooked up the trailer and then went inside. I grabbed a mail bin and started emptying desks and counters of all the office supplies I could find. I also found some lunch food stashed in a couple of employee lockers. The post office didn't hold much appeal overall, and seeing all of the mail that would never get where it was going was depressing.

The next store down the line was a beauty supply store. Rachel and I grabbed garbage bags and loaded up on bobby pins, combs, brushes, barber items, rubber bands, hair barrettes, and anything else we thought might be useful. My hair falls passed my waist to end in a blunt cut. My girls are the same except Rose who recently cut hers to shoulder length to help with headaches caused by the heavy weight of the thick mass she used to sport. I hadn't thought about it much myself but as Rachel eyed the hair dye she winked at me and said, "A girl needs her color." That's when I realized most of the women were showing their roots and had hair cuts that looked pretty ragged. All I could do was grin and feel glad that was at least one problem I had avoided. My legs were getting a little furry but Scott and I had an agreement; he didn't say anything about my legs and I ignored the beard he was growing and the whit that was beginning to show in it.

The Subway Sandwich Shop was completely empty except for a couple packages of napkins and a box of straws. Rachel threw both in the shopping cart she had begun pushing.

The Chinese restaurant was even more bare. We did grab two huge containers of peanut oil forgotten in a back room (and thankfully unopened and not out of date) but everything else, even the cooking equipment was totally gone.

Walgreens was next. Waleski had told us what a mess everything was but I guess I had still managed to underestimate how bad it would be. It was like someone had purposefully knocked everything off of every shelf and end cap in the store. We gathered what we could in garbage bags and loaded it into the trailer.

The Dollar General Store was in a little better shape but not by much and there wasn't any food to be found. Not even any spices which I thought strange at the time.

We were supposed to go to Winn Dixie and bring back some vodka to be used for tinctures and sterilizing medical stuff but Cease called us to hurry back to the truck. He'd spotted a plume of smoke ominously close to our compound.

Right before we climbed in the cab we heard what was obviously gun fire. Cease whose ears were as sensitive as an elephant's said, "That noise ain't all from our guns. There's a couple of fully autos in there that I know don't belong to us."

Rachel and Cease instantly became what I had begun to forget they were; trained soldiers. They looked at each other and then at me and I knew they were wondering how much of a liability I was going to be.

They were going to ditch the truck – and me – at a distance from the action and then send someone back for me when it was safe. There wasn't time to argue about fairness so I told them to turn into the subdivision before our street and I would show them a back way into our neighborhood.

They did just as I suggested and pulled between two houses and then took off in the direction of our people. I sat there arguing with myself; trying to decide to do what I was told or do my best to get to my family. The argument continued to be punctuated by further gunfire only confusing me more.

Neither side in my head had won when out of a hedge that surrounds that side of the canal came three men pulling four young females. It took less than a picosecond for me to realize it was Rose, Sarah, Laura, and Josephine and that they were hysterical and being knocked about every time they tried to break free.

I was out of the truck and flanking their position before I consciously had time to think about it. Those monsters had my girls. The thought just kept repeating itself in my head over and over.

I came up quick on the one on the far let, put the .357 as close to his ear as I could manage and pulled the trigger. Gore splattered every where. The other two men were just registering their surprise when I delivered the same treatment to the man that had been in the middle, only this time I got to watch this one's face disintegrate. The element of surprise was over. The third guy had his gun firmly pointed in my direction and I just had enough time to register the thought that at least I had managed to better the odds for the girls when a zombie, attracted to the girls' cries, lunged out of the tall grass and latched onto the third man's shoulder and proceeded to gnaw it to the bone. The girls and I left him screaming and at the zombie's nonexistent mercy. I pushed and pulled them to the cab of our tow truck that I had just spotted, left in the same place where it had run out of gas two days previously.

The girls were hysterical. Rose looked like she was going into shock. Sarah and Laura were crying and clinging to each other. My opinion of Josephine abruptly jumped several notches when, with visible effort, she pulled herself together enough to answer my questions with as much detail as she could.

About an hour after we had left the compound several men with automatic weapons stepped out of the lowland terrain. They must have shot Hall and Junie because they were the two on guard duty but Josephine didn't know for sure. In the ensuing melee most all of the adults had been injured to some extent. Amazingly Patricia had managed to grab the youngest kids and barricade herself with them in the house when two men had jumped the fence. As far as Josephine knew they were still in there.

The four older girls, who had been standing around tending the stew, were grabbed and dragged away but not before Rose kicked the big soup pot over, scalding one of their attackers.

By the time the girls' captors got them to the street most of the other adults had been captured. Josephine didn't register everyone's specific injuries because at that moment one of the other attackers said, "This old hag's worth nothing to us" right before he executed Dora with a single head shot.

Josephine started crying again at that point and Rose, still gray in the face, took up the narrative as she held Josephine's quivering shoulders. Apparently David, James, Samuel, tom, and Bo had been helping Dante' and slipped out before they could be taken prisoners.

It was Ricky, the little pus bag; the traitorous slime ball. Apparently a couple of guys from the attacking gang had the Feed Depot staked out. They somehow lured Ricky to help them. Who know what the enticement was. The what and how are no longer important, but it probably didn't take much.

The attackers started shouting that if the boys didn't give themselves up immediately the adults would become zombie bait. Their answer was the sudden twin explosions of two of their vehicles that were parked just outside the compound fence and then a deadly crossfire from either side of the road.

After that things got crazy. Three of the attackers grabbed the four girls and headed in one direction. Ricky and two other attackers grabbed Tina and Becky and took off in another direction. That still left several attackers to deal with.

The continued gun fire even after the girls had told their story meant one of two things to me; either our guys were still battling the remaining gang members or zombies had come, attracted to all the noise. With our luck I figured it was probably both.

I was telling the girls to hunker down and lock the doors after I got out when movement off in the orange grove caught my attention.

I eased out of the cab and as quietly as I could closed the door until it latched. My hands were really starting to thump and I wasn't certain if I would even be able to hold the .357 much less aim and fire it. I hadn't held the gun properly but I wasn't thinking clearly while I was doing it. I put the gun in its holster and picked my .22 back up and then spotted a wicked looking machete laying by the first guy I had killed. It was one of those really serious jobs that could have been a close cousin to a scimitar. It looked awkward but once I had it in my hand, found it was weighted beautifully. At that moment I finally understood my dad's love of a good blade. It felt like an extension of my own arm.

The tall grass was now moving in several different places. I kept hearing that line from one of the Jurassic Park movies, "Don't run into the tall grass!" I was wondering what to do next when I heard Ricky's distinctive whine followed by a man saying, "Shut up you little shit. The damn things are all over the place." I ducked behind a stand of palmettos just in time. Two rough looking men, one holding onto Tina and the other holding onto Becky, came into the small clearing. Ricky stumbled after them muttering darkly something like, "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

Everyone stopped to draw a breath and I watched as the men looked around and took stock. One looked at the other and nodded. Suddenly the larger of the two pulled what looked like the kind of knife my dad used to clean fish with and ran it behind Ricky's knees causing him to fall and cry out in pain. Before he could roll away, the man had also cut Ricky's arms at the juncture of his elbows.

"Sorry kid but you're more trouble than you're worth. Besides, once a traitor always a traitor and I ain't gonna watch my back so's you cain't do to me what you done to them other folks," said the cutter. The other guy laughed cruelly and said, "Make yourself useful will ya? Make lots o' noise and draw them zombies off our tails."

I nearly felt sorry for Ricky as he lay there screaming and crying for them to come back, floundering around on the ground like a fish tossed onto shore. Nearly. The guy must have cut his tendons and left him there as "zombie bait." I could have put him out of his misery but this was as close to true justice as we were likely to see. The girls couldn't see his fate and I needed to help Tina and Becky. I simply turned my back and left him to play the hand he had dealt himself.

My guardian angel must have been working overtime that day because I don't know how or why I managed to do what I did. I made so many mistakes that day that I should have been dead several times over. Somehow those two men never noticed I was following them. Ricky's cries turned hysterical and then to screams of extreme pain as I followed the women and their captors onto the same street where the F350 was parked.

Zombies had begun to roam through the area in large numbers. The men were angling towards a loaded Honda pick up partially hidden under a tarp that had been knocked askew by a breeze that had begun to blow. Becky turned her head and caught a glimpse of me not five feet behind them with my machete in hand. She lost her footing in surprise, slipped and tripped Tina, taking them both down to the black top.

I knew I wouldn't get a better chance and quickly made like the Queen of Hearts. The machete was so sharp that it not only took the shorter guy's head clean off, it bit deeply into the upper arm of the other guy causing him to cry out in shock. I pulled the blade free and watched blood begun to gush down his arm. The three of us women backpedalled into the trees and shrubbery before the guy could think to pull his gun. It only took a second for him to be otherwise occupied when a half-dozen zombies set after him.

We turned away and went further into the bush. I led them back to the tow truck. Tina was shaking uncontrollably until she pulled Laura into her arms, at which time she found the strength to pull herself together.

Becky nursed her ankle and asked, "What next?"

It took me a moment to realize she was talking to me. Who did she think I was?! General freakin' Patton?!

It was obvious our people still needed assistance. The sound of gunfire continued to sound. The tow truck was the safest tool for the job, but in order to use it we needed fuel. Then I remembered the two cans of fuel Cease had put into the cab of the F350 this morning. But to get to it meant going back through the zombies; twice.

Tina was all used up. Becky had twisted her ankle badly and would be unable to run if she needed to. It was out of the question to ask the girls. That left me. Besides, the tow truck's cab was getting crowded.

I left them the .357 and .22 since both would just weigh me down and make noise. I took the machete and it dulled and ran red as I made my way to the F350. I had one of the cans in hand and the other in a sling across my back when I spotted a familiar face. Surprised relief turned to horror as I watched Hall stagger in my direction with a ragged hole in his stomach that his intestines were slowly slipping out of; a length of which already drug the ground occasionally tripping him up.

I couldn't afford the tears of regret that had begun to leak from my eyes. Hall wasn't Hall any more but I thought I owed it to his daughter to lay his body to rest.

For a zombie he was still pretty quick which told me his actual reanimation must have taken place within the last hour. The intestines however made him somewhat clumsy. I easily avoided an outstretched arm and decapitated the corpse after it had tripped once again. This time it didn't get back up. There wasn't time for the niceties of burial or solemn words but I made a mental note to write something in Kitty's baby book letting her know the sacrifice her biological father had made.

I didn't encounter quite as many zombies on my return trip but I still had to put the can in my hands down three times to sanitize a few that I couldn't go around.

Becky and Tina covered me while I dumped the fuel into the gas tank and then tossed the cans behind the cab. I climbed into the driver's seat and was about to turn the key when I noticed the look on Tina's face.

"What? Are the girls all right?" I asked looking them over to see if I had missed something.

Tina asked, "Did I ever tell you that Dante's daddy was part owner of a towing company and that I worked there to help put myself through college? Its how he and I met."

"Tina, um … "

"I learned a lot about tow trucks during those years and some of these things have duel fuel tanks."

I blinked a couple of times as I realized her non sequitur actually meant something important. "You've got to be kidding! Are you telling me that I didn't have to wade back through that horde of the dead?!"

"Um. Crank the engine and flip that switch. The second tank is completely full."

I decided I simply didn't have time to have the incipient heart attack that I felt coming on and got on with the job of grinding zombies into fertilizer.

The cab of the tow truck was crowded and rank where at least one of us had pee'd our pants in fear.

It took me a few turns in the grove to figure out the best way to plow zombies. Too fast and you just knock them aside like bowling pins, leaving them to get back up. Too slow and you run the risk of getting surrounded and stalling out.

I worked my way up and down tree rows getting closer and closer to the compound's fence. Then I drove through the now open gates running over anything in my path. A bullet suddenly pinged off of the rear wench.

Becky screamed, "There! Up in the hunter's stand!"

O Buddy. I revved the engine and took the whole look out post down and dragged it several yards on the tow truck's under carriage. As soon as I got loose I turned around and ran over the two attackers again and then a third time before continuing to smush as many zombies as I could.

David has since told me from their vantage on the roof of our house that Dixon and Matlock's jaws came unhinged and swung free in the breeze when they finally realized who was driving the tow truck. They looked at Scott and he just shrugged and said, "Eh … when Sissy gets fired up, she generally let's everyone know it one way or another."

Dang straight. There are consequences for threatening my family.

For three more hours I went around squishing zombies. The girls and Tina fell asleep despite all the bumping and bouncing. Becky probably would have too except the pain in her ankle was growing worse every time it was jostled.

After three hours the waves of zombies deteriorated to barely a trickle. David and James ran over and jumped on the tow truck's bed and I ferried them to the gates so they could close them. The back gates had never been breached which is probably one of the things that saved us. Luckily the gates sustained very little damage and were easily re-secured.

Becky had come up with the brilliant idea of letting those on the roof know who all we had with us so when we finally stopped in front of our house, a reception had been prepared. The girls were carried off to see Rachel with Becky and Tina following more slowly while we were all filled in on everyone else's condition. Tina sped up at the news of Dante's injuries.

By that time everyone but Hall and Ricky had been accounted for, and I explained their ends.

Here is how things stand healthwise for everyone:

Scott: boot print on his cheek and another on his neck where one of those crackers held him down to the ground. Old wound in his calf has been reinjured and is feverish. Two broken toes on that same leg and a badly wrenched thumb on his right hand.

Me: I pulled my back carrying those full gas cans and swinging the machete. My sciatic nerve is singing arias when I try and get out of bed in the morning but hasn't stopped me from being ambulatory.

Rose: Bad dreams, primarily due to the sexual threats made by the men who took her and the other girls; otherwise unhurt.

James: Unhurt except for a few bumps and bruises. He's one of the few truly ambulatory men at the moment.

Sarah and Laura: They are both having night terrors. Both were wearing shorts the day of the attack and were cut up pretty badly when they were drug through the saw briars.

Bekah, Johnnie, Kitty, Sis, Bubby, and Jenny: Quiet with a lowered appetite. They cling to everyone and become whiney and sullen if you try and put them down. Even Bekah who is way too big to be carried.

David: Huge goose egg and cut on the back of his head where he got pistol whipped from behind. A very badly bruised ankle where a zombie tried to bite through his boot.

Matlock: Took a bullet in the arm and a graze across this thigh. His throat is very sore where one of our attackers kicked him.

Tom, Bo, and Samuel: Despite their age, the boys performed well during the battle. Tom and Bo got singed when they threw the Molotov cocktails into two of the gang's vehicles. They, along with James and David, have been forced to carry most of the burden of the day time guard schedule.

Dante': Broken leg and a bullet graze on his upper arm. His primary concern is figuring out a way to complete our perimeter fence to secure our supplies which were apparently the target of the gang in the first place. Our supplies and our women.

Tina and Becky: Recovering but both are showing some heavy bruising in tender spots from the sadistic fondling they took from their captors. Becky's ankle is still swollen though it's probably not broken.

Dora: Dead. We buried her out in a section of the orange grove.

Josephine: Grieving deeply for her grandmother. Has become deeply attached to Patricia and rarely let's her out of her sight.

Junie: Serious condition. Severe blood loss from a bullet to her shoulder and the subsequent field operation to remove it. Unconscious most of the time but has managed to keep down some broth and baby food as well as liquid iron supplements. No sign of infection so far.

Waleski: Broken nose, broken finger, pulled shoulder, and mild concussion that has left him with a little vertigo.

Cease: Beat up badly but ambulatory, sort of. Both of his eyes were blackened and are nearly swollen shut.

Rachel: Cracked ribs, twisted ankle but still full of "piss and vinegar" as my grandfather would have said.

Jose': Critical condition. While avoiding a zombie he fell over a pile of debris behind one of the houses. A stick from a broken branch punctured his eye and another gouged a deep hole in his leg. He made it to the safety of the house before collapsing but shock and a case of peritonitis from the leg wound quickly zapped his strength. He runs a constant fever which hovers around 104 F despite antibiotics.

Ricky: Dead and eaten to the point that reanimation is impossible. Thank you very much.

Dixon: Several cracked ribs where he was kicked. Concussion from similar abuse. Coughing up blood, now under control, but he can't do much.

Patricia: Surprisingly stable and seems to be intent on proving her worth. Dumbfounded when I hugged and thanked her for her quick thinking in saving the little ones. She is helping Dante' work out what to do with our supplies and also takes her turn nursing our casualties.

McElroy: The least injured of all the adult males and temporarily in charge of security.

I barely slept the night after the battle. I spent most of my time helping take care of the wounded and the kids when they woke during the night. I have to wear Kitty in the sling constantly or she wails and no one can rest. She wouldn't go to anyone else although all the other women, including Rose and Josephine, offered to take her.

Yesterday was primarily mop up. Almost literally. Wearing Kitty on my back like a papoose, I'd scrape zombie off the road or ground until the wheel barrow was full. Then I would push the wheel barrow up to one of the last houses on the block before reaching US41. James had managed to pry the cap off of the septic tank. I then would shovel the zombie gore into the septic tank, listening to the noxious plop it made as each shovel full fell on the preceding one.

I did this all day long, sometimes with other people but primarily by myself. Most everyone who tried to help wound up gagging and heaving so much they got little accomplished. I guess I ran 'em over so I got to clean 'em up. Not even Scott could stand it. I stopped thinking about what I was doing after a while and it became easier. I hardly smelled the dead after a while. James and David provided some security but Cease and McElroy also did their share. Tom, Bo, and Samuel kept a look out from our remaining hunting stand.

Today has primarily been an extension of yesterday; zombie gore clean up. We have to get this stuff up before it putrifies too badly and causes health problems for us all. McElroy and David have been learning to drive the forklift and then using some of the "extra" storage containers to close the fence gap.

I need to go to bed now. Tomorrow is another full day. I have to begin preparing the land so that I can lay out the garden and start figuring out how all of the work is going to get done now that everyone is injured. We need to bring in the loaded down F350 and I also told them about the loaded Honda a few doors down. The boys have already stripped the attacker's vehicles that were parked near our front gate and the burned out hulks of the two torched cars picked up by the forklift and moved down the road to be used as additional barriers as needed.

The last thing we plan to do tomorrow is to hang a flag that the kids made for us. The flag has a bright blue and green border and tells the name of our compound.

You would figure, under the circumstances, they would have chosen to call it Fort Something-or-Other or Outpost X, Y, or Z. Something that had some adrenaline and testosterone to it. No. Its just one word. The kids chose it and the name passed unanimously on the first vote.

I'm not sure how well it reflects the last couple of days, but overall it is what we have all been trying to achieve.

The new name of our compound is _**SANCTUARY**_.


	48. Day Sixty-Eight

**Day 68**

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary that I've put in our new "classroom" space, the definition of sanctuary is a place of refuge and protection. Slowly but surely we hope to live up to the new name of our compound. So far we are getting closer to the "protection" part of the definition and we've also managed to make a start on the "refuge" part as well.

The fence is complete; however, McElroy is really pushing for us to add a second layer of storage containers to the first to make the "wall" part of our fence higher. He wants to take it from eight feet high to sixteen feet high. We completely emptied the first business' inventory to make our current wall. We could probably get all the storage containers we wanted from over near the Port of Tampa but our team is in no shape to attempt a run like that any time soon. Frankly we aren't going any where any time soon that is more than a few streets away.

The members of our enclave aren't much better than they were a few days ago. The emotional stuff is being balanced out by work for those that can but the recent stressful events have caused everyone's physical recovery to be slow. Those of us with relatively minor injuries must work twice as hard as we did before just to try and take up the slack; that is causing its own set of problems. Not to mention that while we have access to two highly trained medics who are very good at what they do, the care they can offer is no where near what their patients would have received in a proper hospital setting. We are making do but for one of our members it may not be enough.

Having all of the injured in my house just wasn't working. People who are injured need peace and quiet and the people tending to them need to be able to get around without tripping all over everything. There is also the issue of needing as sterile an environment as possible. To address this we turned the house on the other side of Mabel's land into a temporary "hospital." It wasn't too badly messed up though a couple of windows were cracked and needed replacing. Scott has been using other houses outside the compound for spare parts and was able to fix the problem windows with very little effort.

The girls, with Becky and Tina supervising, spent most of day before yesterday cleaning out all of the rooms and putting clean sheets and linens where they were needed. The carpet was also pulled up and removed. Given time Scott and David will lay a tile floor in there, but for now concrete is what they have. The house itself is five bedroom, single-story, and ranch style. It has two full bathrooms and a screened in pool whose water is being used to flush the toilets with. There is a small efficiency apartment in the back corner of the lot. The screened pool means that the house can be opened up and no one has to worry about bugs. We dumped a load of chlorine into the pool and it's knocked the algae level way back and taken care of any incipient mosquito population. As time permits the younger boys have been given the task of cutting the over grown lawn with the old rotary-mower that I found in one of Mabel's outbuildings before they were all torn down.

Rachel and Waleski moved all of their gear over to our "hospital" permanently, for now alternately sharing one of the rooms. The kitchen has been turned into a pharmacy; drugs in the upper cabinets, bandages and other stuff in the lower cabinets. Scott also rigged a propane burner up so that they can boil water to sterilize bandages and other equipment.

Either Rachel or Waleski is on duty at all times. The other people in residence over there include Junie and Jose', both of whom remain in serious and critical condition respectively. Jose' is in a room by himself as is Junie. Jose' isn't doing well at all. His prognosis is grim but no one is giving up yet. Both of his eyes are bandaged but that's about the extent of what they can do for that injury. As strange as it may seem to the layman, the leg puncture is much more serious. The wound developed sepsis. The bacteria that caused the sepsis did a lot of damage to his bowels and turned into peritonitis. Its also attacking his kidneys and liver as seen by the yellow cast that his skin is beginning to have. Rachel was able to rig an IV drip and they are giving him all the Levaquin they have left in their field kits. As I understand it, Levaquin is a pretty nasty broad spectrum antibiotic specific for use against bacteria. They are doing everything in their power, but as quickly as he deteriorated, even a well-equipped modern hospital would have had difficulty treating him.

Junie has her wound packed and changed at least twice a day. Between her wound and Matlock's we've been going through a lot of clean bed sheets. We cut them into narrow strips and then boil them for 10 minutes before they can be used. So far we are simply burning them as they get used rather than trying to use them again. One day it might come to that but for now we just continue to scavenge all of the sheets we can find in the surrounding neighborhoods. For Junie right now, its mostly an issue of keeping infection away and keeping her comfortable. She is in a lot of pain.

Dante' shares the same problem. He is in a room with Tina, Laura, and Bo on cots near his bed to make sure that his is kept completely immobile. His leg has been splinted and wrapped with Ace bandages but if he moves it even a little bit the bones could shift. At best that would mean that his leg bone wouldn't knit together correctly; at worst he could slice a vein or artery and bleed to death internally. We're lucky that it is his lower leg that was broken and not his thigh. The lower leg is much easier to treat. Dante's pain level is pretty high and because he doesn't or can't sleep as much as Junie, its difficult to manage. Waleski found a whole rucksack full of narcotics in the Honda truck so that helps; but too much of a good thing isn't good either. Waleski and Rachel have all of the narcotics under double lock and key. Waleski has one and Rachel the other and they keep a running inventory of all of their meds. It may seem a little over the top, but its better to be safe than sorry. We don't need to start creating problems now - like addiction - that we would have to deal with in the future.

Dixon, Patricia, and Samuel share the last bedroom. Rib fractures can take anywhere from three to six weeks to heal completely and that is if someone is resting and being careful. Dixon wasn't complying and as a consequence was in a lot of pain and in danger of puncturing a lung. He, and everyone else with rib injuries, was been taped up but Dixon has a big problem staying still. Having Dixon at the "hospital" also meant that each house had a "commander" in residence and gave the two big guys some breathing room from each other.

Everyone else is still living with us. As soon as Dixon has healed sufficiently, he and his family will move over to the Victorian. We aren't sure who will be moving in there with them since both Dora and Hall are dead. I suspect Josephine will, though she is currently rooming with Rose, as she has come to view Dixon and Patricia as substitute parents now that her grandmother is gone; I think that has actually given Patricia even more reason to pull herself together. The changes in her have been extraordinary. Hopefully she reached bottom and will only go up from here.

Our house is strangely quiet as a result of moving so many people out. James, David, Cease, and McElroy continue to share a room. Matlock and Tom now have a room to themselves and I know that Matlock appreciates the "full report" that Tom gives him at the end of the day. I know it makes Tom feel like a big deal in his father's eyes. Matlock's bullet wound was relatively minor as such things go, but it gets as much attention as Junie's does though he is not nearly so incapacitated. His graze, as well as the other "bullet burns" that group members have are being treated with either Silver Sulfadiazine or Septra, depending on how bad it is.

I finally got the girls to move to a room together which puts Sarah, Bekah, and Sis in a room. Johnnie, Bubby, and Kitty are still in our room for now but at least Scott and I can have a bit of privacy here and there. Jenny is sharing a room with Becky. It's still tight but not nearly as bad as it was before. With the fence up I've even allowed some of the shutters to be opened during the day to air the place out and let some much needed light in, especially since we have some people that are temporarily "house bound."

I still do most of the cooking, or at least all of the menu planning. Becky, with my sincere gratitude, has created a new chore chart that Dixon and Matlock approved. Eventually everyone in the compound will help with food preparation and cooking at some point in their duty rotation. There was just no way for me to continue doing everything. Even Matlock and Dixon have helped a little.

One of the other things we found in the attacker's possession was fifty pounds of potatoes. I have no idea where they came from. One of the dead guys had a map on him that had places X'd out in red that Dixon thinks may have been places they hit. It looks like they came north out of the Naples, FL and simply followed US 41 all the way up. The fact that there were so many X's on the map and the amount of stuff the gang was carrying around in their vehicles didn't bode well. We are just that much further along in confirming that the whole state of Florida has been quarantined.

Something funny did happen yesterday. I watched Tina and Patricia stomp over to where we are keeping the large food storage items. They came out with some potatoes and then stomped back to the "hospital." Both were obviously in a less that happy mood. I didn't have the least idea what was going on until I saw Scott leaving from over there, after having his leg checked and cleaned again. He stumbled over to me trying really hard not to laugh. Apparently the ladies had finally had enough of their men's shenanigans and whining about being "bored." Guess who had the pleasure of peeling the potatoes for dinner that night?

With Hall dead it has fallen to Dixon, a former Communication Specialist, to set up and use the radio from Keel Outpost. He has turned the efficiency apartment into a radio station and has had Samuel helping him to put maps on the wall and set up a couple of desks in there when the boy isn't helping me with the garden or on guard duty. Listening to the radio chatter, what little can be heard, gives Dixon a reason to sit still but still keeps him busy. Cease also helps but his eyesight is still limited. Strangely, Bekah is fascinated by the "radio shack" and Scott practically had to drag her away when she went over there with him. Perhaps we have our own budding radio operator. Certainly it would be a useful skill for her to develop. I think I'd like to see all the kids get a chance to learn to operate the radio as one of the "subjects" in the curriculum that I'm trying to develop.

Its not realistic right now for use to believe things are going to go back to "normal" any time soon; but several of us have been talking about how important it is to provide at least a sense of normalcy for our group. I strongly believe that our children need this especially. One way I want to try and give them this is by setting up a school schedule. It wouldn't be a traditional classroom style education but they need to at least develop some rudimentary academic skills. I have almost completed writing the unit study on Swiss Family Robinson. We could have a read-aloud at night so that the youngest, non-readers could follow the story – not to mention that it might prove just as entertaining for the adults since there are no radios or TVs at the moment. During the day I plan to take one or two hours to do activities that tie into the previous night's chapter. Through out the remainder of the day we could work academics into our chores and maybe have some of the kids apprentice to learn some skills as a specialty. If Bekah continues to lean towards communications then I would schedule her chores so that she spent time every day gaining more than just a basic understanding of how the radio worked, etc. Rose has wanted to help at our hospital. As soon as things settle down a bit, Scott and I will talk to Rachel and see what she thinks.

Scott has tried to help with the kids by getting one or two of the little ones to go with him when he can. It gets them out of the house or away from the garden and they get a little exercise. It also gives them a sense of what their new boundaries are going to be. When I first started work on the garden yesterday morning it was like having too many chicks under my wings. I couldn't walk. Every time I tried to get the kids to spread out a little bit they would quickly revert to walking practically on top of each other, and me, as soon as my back was turned. Scott didn't dare laugh when he saw my problem but I could tell he wanted to. He took Johnnie first and after that Sis and Bubby. Jenny wouldn't leave Becky's side which was more or less expected, but Becky took her for a short walk past our hospital and back. Bekah and Sarah came last. I don't think it will be a problem for Sarah much longer because she now knows that if she is willing to at least walk across the field she'll get to see Laura. The bigger boys – Tom, Bo, and Samuel – are already all over Sanctuary on guard duty, running errands, etc. They don't even jump any more when they see a zombie.

There are lots of opportunities for the adult group members to help with the kids, regardless of whether they are a parent or not. Dixon can train on radio, hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship, etc. Scott can provide training for several different trades like carpentry and plumbing, as well as organizational and memory skills such as those he developed working in the bank when we were first married. McElroy is a jack-of-all-trades but one of the main things I would like to see him do is to create some redundancy in areas where he is our only specialist – mechanics, large machinery operator, etc. Rachel and Waleski can teach basic first aid to all of the kids and more in-depth skills to the older ones. Patricia mentioned that she would be willing to help with basic and advanced math. Then there are the hobby/skills. Dante' is an extremely talented pianist. Matlock and James play guitar. Becky is an artist. I can teach horticulture. The list could be endless.

Our limitations are breeding some creative solutions and Scott's outings with the kids is just one example of this. I was really, really concerned about how I was going to prepare a garden space large enough to feed all of our people. The "little" project is turning into a huge endeavor; I'm very glad I had most of the planning done before things went to hell the way it did. I've got 18 different vegetables that I need to get in the ground before the week is out. Too much longer and I'll have lost my window of opportunity for any October planting.

When James was helping me while I did gore-disposal he spotted old man Clements' golf cart and it gave him an idea. Actually the thing is one of those fancy ones that can be taken through the woods and on hunting expeditions though he primarily just used it to run his garbage cans down to the end of the road (his house does sit way back). The man weighed 350 lbs. last time I heard and it wasn't because he was "big boned" if you catch my meaning. The cart even sports a swamp camo paint job that always gave Scott a good laugh when he saw it. James took his first driving lessons in a golf cart so he knows what they can do and what they can't. He and Samuel pushed the cart back down the road to our house and David helped them figure out a way to make the plan work that James was developing.

The golf cart is one of those "Bad Boy Buggies" with up to 30 horsepower, a torque rating of up to 170, and can haul up to 800 pounds according to the manual that was under the seat. I didn't know what they were doing – it was a surprise – but Cease and David got the OK to make a short run down to the Kabota tractor dealership to see if they carried any ATV accessories. Sure enough they had some in the warehouse that hadn't gotten damaged in the rioting. The only two they could bring back were a disc and a tiller. The disc/planter combination was too heavy for just the two of them and the cultivator was buried under a couple of loaded heavy-duty shelves that had fallen over. I was blown away that night when they told me what they had done.

Now there are limitations to this, just like with anything else. It's not going to be like having a tractor. We had to take the remaining sod out first. We also had to make sure all the rocks and roots were out. I mean 170 is a lot of torque for a golf cart, but in the end it is still just a golf cart. We'll also have to keep about six batteries charged and ready to use at all times; and that's on top of the batteries we need for the radio shack and the other stuff. There is a small Harbor Freight store just off of Fletcher Avenue that we hope carries more solar panels but we don't know for sure. David said that if we could ever get out to one of the expensive golf clubs, some of them used solar powered golf carts that were self-charging. That might be worth a long away Run but not for a while yet. I'm more than happy with what the boys rigged up even if I have to wait my turn for batteries.

After I had the kids rake out the last of the weeds I broadcast some soil amendments all over the sand. Next I ran the disc and tiller attachment on the cart. Wowee. That saved hours, maybe days, of some pretty intense labor.

My garden was as simple as I could design it but I still needed to lay out the rows for the kids and check in behind them until I knew they were following directions. So far between yesterday and today we have planted beets, onions, shallots, parsnips, turnips, broccoli, cabbage, lettuce, and collards. Tomorrow I want to plant carrots, leeks, mustard greens, spinach, and English peas. If there's time, or enough helping hands, I want to plant patches of burdock, salsify, and celtuce. I also want to start at least two dozen hanging baskets of strawberries. I know that sounds like a lot of food but with 30 people to feed it will all go fast. Actually the plan is to be able to feed 50 but for now any extra produce will be preserved and put into our food storage.

As far as my existing edible landscaping, some things I've been able to harvest so far this month include Jicama, okra, crookneck squash, scallop squash, and cucumbers. Some greens I've harvested are mesclun, mustard greens, and arugula. There hasn't been a lot coming in at any given time; at least not enough to fix enough to feed 30 people from one dish, so I've turned each day's harvest into a vitamin packed green broth for the invalids. If there is any broth left then it goes to the kids as an appetizer for dinner.

Tomorrow I'm going to cut my first head of broccoli and broccoli raab from my edible landscaping. I've got powdered cheese tucked away that I can turn into a sauce and we'll have broccoli and cheese casserole for dinner. It should make a nice change of pace from all the canned and dried stuff we normally eat.

Dinners are more work than they were before but at least we no longer have to eat in shifts because there isn't enough room or dishes to go around. Everything is still cooked in one location, but it gets plated up and split between the two houses. Everyone was washing their own dishes and those that can continue to do so. For those that can't usually someone offers to do it for them, leaving me only the cooking pots to clean up. When everyone is ambulatory again I may try to see if we can set picnic tables up outside, but a lot will depend on the ever present zombie situation and if, God forbid, we have any more trouble with raider-type gangs.

I miss my little chickens. It was a couple of days before I realized they weren't in the compound after the battle. I never saw a chicken carcass when I was cleaning up so I know they weren't killed while on Sanctuary grounds. I don't think a hawk got them, but that could have happened as well. The dog run sits beside our carport all forlorn and empty. I hope they come back but I don't have a lot of hope.

Scott has begun our next major construction project. He has set the posts for an above ground water cistern of sorts. It will be set up so that the run off from our hospital building will fill it using a water catchment system. The roof on that building has an even steeper pitch to it that ours because they raised it when the previous owners remodeled to get vaulted ceilings in the main living areas.

The cistern will only set about four feet off of the ground but will hold 2000 gallons when full. It started life as a cattle trough from the Feed Depot. Scott is building the support frame very sturdy and reinforced usin posts and railroad/landscaping ties that he has been scavenging from around the area. All of that stuff is pressure treated so we won't have to worry about termites as much. We are also using the last of our bags of quick set concrete … we've added it to the list of items that we hope to find when we are able to go on longer runs. I'm hoping that the weight of the water will help create enough water pressure that we can attach a drip irrigation system to it. The pressure doesn't have to be astronomical, just fairly constant. After he finishes that he'll alternate his time between making the remaining Sanctuary homes habitable and building additional catchment systems for each house.

I noticed something funny today that I'm writing down so I'll remember when it occurred. Not funny ha ha, but funny strange. I think I mentioned before how useful the map that James started has continued to be. One of the things we have been adding to the map is the locations of trees, bushes, and plants that are edible. Not just within Sanctuary itself but in the surrounding neighborhood area. I went to check up on some papayas that were all but ready to be picked and they were gone. Not just the fruit, the whole tree was gone. You could see where it had been broken off at the ground. The strange part was that the tree stalk was no where to be see. I don't know of any local animal that would behave that way bother dragging the tree away, we don't have beavers in this area and beavers gnaw wood, they don't break it off. The stalk was every bit of ten feet tall. I don't know, maybe a zombie did it? I mentioned it at dinner and we had quite a lively discussion going. Some people thought it was no big deal and some wondered if the zombies were beginning to behave oddly. That last one caused James and David to hum the theme from Twilight Zone. Me? I think maybe we have small raiding parties coming through the area. But why wouldn't we notice them and why would missing stuff be so haphazard? I hope nothing else suddenly goes missing like that. And even if some of them were goofing with me and thinking I was making a mountain out of a mole hill I will admit it is nice to have other adults to share my concerns with. It makes the burdens lighter.

When Tina, Becky and I were talking today about all of the kids activities we'd like to try and arrange, we both realized that the traditional holiday season is fast approaching. The end of this month would be Halloween, November is Thanksgiving here in the US, and December is Christmas. We can't just go out and buy stuff like we have in years passed; we need to start planning well in advance and gathering items now.

We're going to talk it over with the other adults but both Tina and I feel Halloween isn't appropriate under the circumstances. The kids don't need scary on top of the Halloween-Horror their lives have already become since the arrival of the zombies. Becky was thinking maybe an Autumn or Harvest type of thing instead. We could have games for the kids, pull taffy, maybe build a scarecrow for our garden. We aren't going to mention it to the kids though until we firm up the details. No use getting their hopes up in case we have to scrap the whole idea.

Speaking of the holidays, there is one area I've tried very hard not to dwell on. Its been weeks now since I've talked to my parents. I've continued to wind my phone charger up every couple of days and try to reach them. I've tried to check my voice mails on a regular basis. Nothing. And today I couldn't even get a single bar of reception. I don't know exactly what that means, but it can't be good. None of it. I'd like to believe that the zombie problem is confined to the major metropolitan areas of Tampa Bay, but I know that isn't true. There are lots of things that I'd like to believe but I never was one to wear rose-colored glasses all the time. I have to accept reality. I'm just not ready to accept what is likely to be the inevitable truth.


	49. Day Seventy-One

**Day 71**

Jose' died this morning. We laid his body to rest beside Dora and Hall. Dixon waited until he was sure that he was going to reanimate before sanitizing him. It was almost too late and God forbid, but if faced with that situation again we won't make the same mistake twice. It was a mess. I'm beginning to wonder if the whole freaking world is a mess. And if that's true, where does that leave us?


	50. Day Seventy-Two

**Day 72**

I was just too depressed to write anything else yesterday. I've been thinking a lot about my parents and the rest of my family. I finally had to go out to our shed and just grieve privately for a little while. The movies always make this part so easy. It happens off screen or the characters are so stoic. This isn't easy. This is … this is impossible to adequately describe. The not knowing for sure; yet understanding that in all likelihood your worst fears have already been realized. I had to grieve for all the things I've been forced to do lately; grieve for the people I'll likely never see again.

Its been very hard, but I'm not the only one going through this. There isn't a person in Sanctuary that hasn't lost someone. We're all dealing with it the best way we can; some through faith, some through work, some through sheer determination. I wish Dora was still with us. Sometimes I feel like I'm cracking around the edges. I look in the mirror and barely recognize myself any more. I'm still me, or at least the shadow of who I was. At the same time I'm this new version of me, shaped by the extraordinary circumstances I've been forced to live through.

I think the younger kids are having an easier time of it than the rest of us. You'd think the opposite would be true, that their psyches simply weren't mature enough to handle it. And some of them have had problems but it's like life before a certain point doesn't really exist for them any longer. For my kids that point seems to be the first day we made the conscious decision to sequester. They don't talk about old friends or activities they were involved in. They don't ask about their grandparents or other relatives; not even Rose and James, and that is very hard for me to take. Tom won't talk about any event that came before the day that Matlock rescued him and Jenny. He point blank refuses to talk about the day his mother died. For Samuel, Bo, and Laura time began when they were forced to move into Argos Hall and even the early days of that appear somewhat hazy to them.

It really hurts not to have someone to share my memories with. Scott is very busy, and the kids just give me a blank or shut off look when I mention something from "before." That's what every calls it ... "before" ... like its an entirely different and ancient era or something that has no applicability to today. That's what it must be like when older adults outlive all of their family and friends; the vacuum of connections. To address this need in myself I've decided that in addition to this journal I'll keep another book; a book of memories. It will be about my family and Scott's parents; about our traditions and where they come from. About favorite songs and movies; the vacations we took when the kids were little. I understand the need for mental self-preservattion, but I don't want to lose these memories forever; they are a big part of who we are. The zombies have enough influence in our lives, I don't want them to become the sum total of it.

In other news Dixon is picking up a little bit more chatter on the radio after he finally got the antenna fixed. The number of people communicating via radio isn't large but there are more than you would expect. One group appears to be at least as big as ours but further along as far as their preparedness and organization. They seem to have been around a while. They try and sound military but Dixon suspects they are not. Another group's size is indeterminate, they give out a lot less information over the radio and he believes this one is military, or former or para military. You can hear the training in their voices. Both of those groups use call signs and codes that Dixon hasn't completely decoded so he hasn't confirmed their base locations. Then there are the very small groups of maybe two or three, half dozen at the most. Those might belong to bigger groups but they only give an indication of passing through rather than having a stationary base of operations.

One day soon Matlock and Dixon will transmit to see if they can start a dialogue, but not until our defensive force has healed and ready for any potential repercussions.

The garden is doing well so far. I haven't noticed any animal depredation in there yet. The few birds around are scavengers like vultures and they don't target vegetation. I've seen a few hawks but not many, and only very high riding the air currents. I've seen a few song birds but again, not many. That's very unusual for this time of year. Maybe they are there and just choosing to be quiet, like they are aware of a major predator in the area. Whenever zombies are around and threatening I'm usually too busy to notice whether they take after any animals they hear. Cease says back when they were still patrolling with Keel Outpost he saw a zombie go after a dog once but never noticed anything else. I'm wondering if the smell of zombies, even as mild as the smell is right now with the local horde population in check, keeps the animals that use smell as their primary hunting tool off balance. That would explain the cats, dogs, and similar but it still doesn't explain the birds. Now bats I've seen, but they are silent. I've seen bats swoop down and all but land on a zombie and the zombie didn't react at all, not even to jump like they were startled at something coming so close to their face. Apparently zombies are still limited to their "human" senses and can't hear the eco-location emitted by the bats. I wonder if that could ever be used as a tracking tool. But back to the birds, insects are gonna get out of control if we have no birds around and that's a fact and worrisome with regard to my garden. That's just one more reason to miss the little chickens.

Hmmm, thinking of beneficial animals and insects naturally leads me to thoughts of the non-beneficial ones. There was one house on the far edge of our local "gathering" territory – that area that we can reach on foot in an hour or less – that was infested with mice. The smell when that door was opened was so heavy with mouse feces even my eyes started to water. I threw a handful of poison into several rooms after I put a face mask on. After I was out I asked James to glue the door closed with liquid nails and mark the house as a biohazard (our standard treatment for unhealthy houses). Dante' pitched a fit after he heard the day's gathering report. He wrote up a reminder for everyone to check all boxes and bags that they are bringing back to Sanctuary and asked me to double check the traps and bait that we have in our storage areas.

Someone reading this might wonder what I was doing walking around with rat poison in my pockets. Well, I'm not as crazy as that makes me sound. I've been concerned with infestations since early on. This is Florida; we are going to have some problems with pests. That's life. The trick is to prevent a minor annoyance from turning into a swarm of major proportions; we don't need to replay the Egyptian plagues in the Old Testament. I've baited all of the food and other supply storage areas and I try to check and rotate things frequently; borax for roaches and ants, poison and traps for mice and rats. I keep our water supplies covered to lower the mosquito population and don't allow standing water any more than necessary. Scott even built a cover for the new garden cistern. Zombies are nasty enough to deal with. I don't want malaria, the hunta virus, West Nile, or encephalitis to become a problem, and that's barely scratching the surface of what nasties could be transmitted by pest species.

On that same trek I had another one of those weird experiences that are becoming more common than is comfortable. I could have sworn I saw a child's face in the bushes; and no, I was not seeing things. I found nothing when I rushed to investigate but I can't shake the feeling that I saw something. Maybe it wasn't a child, but it wasn't a zombie that's for sure. I had James and Cease helping me look for over fifteen minutes and would have probably kept looking if I hadn't been rather rudely interrupted. I was bent over trying to look behind some overgrown shrubs when I suddenly found myself face down mowing grass with my chin. For one brief, terrified moment I thought, "Zombie!"

I shot to my feet to find myself being stared at. A largish billy goat with two does and a kid contemplated me with innocent expressions. But I knew, oh yes, I knew better. Ol' Billy's nature had gotten the better of him when he had spotted my wide load bouncing around in the bushes. James was choking from trying to hold back his laughter and has gotten more than his fair share of mileage retelling the story several times after we got back to the compound. Cease wasn't much better but at least he was kind enough to offer me some sympathy.

Despite everything that those animals have probably been through, they are still pretty tame. 'Ol Billy even came up and brushed up against me a couple of times to say "no hard feelings." Cute … I personally think he is just trying to get out of being eaten. I had my suspicions about where they could have come from. There was a goat farm on US41 just north of Newberger Road. There was also a petty zoo in Odessa off of SR54 called "Old McDonald's Farm" of all things. Or they could have been someone's pets that escaped their enclosures. They weren't wearing tags, nor were they branded, so who knows for sure.

Either way we now have goats to replace our missing chickens. We built a pen for them back behind the garden area. I'm not sure that's the best place for them long term but its all we could do in a hurry. I know almost nothing about goat care. Sarah and Samuel immediately volunteered to be their caretakers and to look through all of the animal books we have and see what they can find out. With those two animal lovers in charge I'll probably wind up hearing way more about goats than I want to. All I know with that with goats there is the possibility of milk, cheese, and meat. And that's a win all the way around.


	51. Day Seventy-Four

**Day 74**

I found a really easy breakfast that everyone is enjoying; scones. I used to fix them a lot when Rose and James were little but I had gotten out of the habit until I started looking at ways to make breakfast for this crowd a little easier on me. In my opinion scones are even easier than biscuits to fix. You can make them sweet like the Chocolate Chip Toffee Scones we had for breakfast today. Or, you can make them savory like the Bacon Cornmeal Scones that I have planned for tomorrow's breakfast.

Scones for breakfast usually mean that we need a hardier lunch however. Still, I'd rather try and fix a hardier lunch than throw together a big meal first thing in the morning, for now anyway. I might not feel that way once the heat of summer returns. Today I fixed two huge Dutchies of Chili Bean Bake. Tina and Laura fixed a large pot of rice to go with it.

Work, work, work. That's all we have day in and day out any more. Even the kids help with the garden and all of the household stuff … assuming they don't have other specific assigned chores within the compound. I had just put my hoe down to take a short break from gardening when Tina, Becky, and Patricia showed up and asked me to come sit down with them a second. Even Rachel took a short moment to sit down and have a cup of tea with us. The only one missing was Junie, but Tina said she would talk to her later to see if she had any input to add. The gist of the situation is that we women need to work smarter, not harder, 'cause we are all getting worn down. We can't do every kind of chore every day; it just isn't practical. Patricia admitted that Becky's chore charts really help, but she said we need to take our organizing even further and come up with a long term plan that's not too complicated or hard to implement. I mentioned how my mom used to have certain chores that she would do on certain days of the week and everyone suddenly started remember how their mothers or grandmothers did it similarly.

While we sat, and in my head I couldn't help but think that the gardening wasn't going to get done so long as I sitting around talking, we mapped out an interim chore schedule until we can come up with something more permanent and penciled in some tentative dates for other activities.

On Monday we'll do all the washing. That's a heck of a chore 'cause right now, not only do we have the compound members' clothes to wash, but we are washing all of the clothes and linens that come in from our Gathering Runs. We've had to add a couple of hundred feet of clothes line just to get it all dried before the day runs out. I aked Tina to add clothes ringers and scrub boards to Dante's lists of things we'd like to have. I can't imagine where we'll find the clothes ringers but we should be able to find some scrub boards in the places that do dry cleaning and that sort of thing. We also need to have Dix or Matt pull a crew together so that we can have a permanent wash stand that we can set the big vat up on for boiling. We had to move it so I could lay out the garden and we haven't set a new one up yet.

On Tuesday we'll do all the folding, hanging, and mending of clothing that needs to be done. If the amount of laundry ever gets to where we can get the washing and mending done all in one day then we'll change things around. For now though you wouldn't believe how much of all this there is to do. 'Nother thing to add to Dante's list ... cedar. If we are going to have a lot of linens in storage then we should do it properly to avoid moths and other creepy crawlies. If I can get the lavendar to bloom this year we'll have that to use as well.

Becky said she'll start going through my books on homemade cleaners and such. Frankly I just don't have the time right now. I asked that while she did that she keep a running list of items that we would need to make them, including herbs to grow. I've got a ton of seed packets but I need to prioritize which ones are needed first.

On Wednesday we'll process water to make it potable, clean gutters as needed, etc. This is a huge task and water conservation is very important. In addition to the 29 people in our group we have the animals to take care of now.

On Thursday we'll prepare the condiments and food we'll need for the next week. I try and not make up any more margarine or milk than we would need at any given time because we don't want it to spoil; but trying to do that on a daily basis is a waste of my time. Its not nearly as hot as it was, though it still gets in the 80s during the day, but the evaporator cooler keeps stuff from going bad a little longer. The cooler it gets the longer stuff will keep.

On Friday we'll give all of our living areas a good cleaning. I'm not talking about spring cleaning, though my house could use a really good scrub. With one day a week devoted to cleaning the worst of the mess should at least keep the worst of the chaos at a manageable level. It will work even better if everyone does their share between weekly cleanings.

On Saturday we'll bake. It takes a lot of fuel to bake bread. Scott feels that he can build an outdoor bread oven from directions he found in one of our medieval history books. If he can do this then that means that we'll be able to save our propane for regular cooking and potentially for heating this winter if we need it. The problem is we have so many priority projects and not enough people to do them and still keep up with daily chores. Having a bread oven will be really wonderful, but the cisterns are important too. Right now water is more important than sliced bread.

Sunday will be up to the individual and/or family. I've missed having a day we can rest. We won't always be able to do it, but if we can follow the practice of "a day of rest" more often than not we'll probably be a lot healthier for it. Sure, we'll still have to do things like guard duty and feed the animals, but maybe shorter or shared shifts on those days or something.

We're half way through October. Its still warm but not near as bad as it was in August and September. It actually gets down into the 70s at night. We usually have our first read cold snap the end of this month. I sure do miss weather reports. They weren't always completely accurate, but at least you'd get a heads up if something really bad was gonna roll through. We had a gully washer last night and if I had known of the possibility I would have set out a few more rain catchers.

The next wash day we are going to ask everyone to go through their clothes. We have nearly finished going through all the houses we can easily reach on foot within an hour's walk. If we can't find enough of the right sizes of shoes, jackets, etc. we need to start a list and make a Run before the weather catches us off guard … or something else does.

One of those "something elses" could be other people. I know that some of the houses we have gone through in the past and sealed up have been broken into and gone through again, and not by our people. Its not a serious problem yet; but it could be, especially if we start having issues with territory. We don't own the area outside of Sanctuary … we don't really own Sanctuary if you want to get technical … but we consider it ours, certainly it is now "home" for each of us. Having unknown people so close to our home, but refusing to indentify themselves is unnerving. The question is, are they hiding from us out of fear or are they hiding for nefarious reasons?


	52. Day Seventy-Six

**Day 76**

The rhythm of our lives seems to be settling more or less into a routine. More or less. Or at least it more or less was until today. A year ago – heck even three months ago – I would never have been able to say that zombies were routine. I would never had even contemplated things being the way they are and calling it routine. But that's life as we live it now. Living without electricity; counting even the number of toothpicks I fill the holder with at night; and sanitizing the occasional zombie that wanders too close while we are out gathering. On one level this is more surreal than I ever counted on life being. On another level I don't care how surreal everything is just so long as we are surviving.

All our people's injuries are healing. I think stress and a lack of modern medical intervention is making the healing take much longer than it would otherwise have been, but they are healing. I do try and make sure that nutrition is a top priority. We dole out daily vitamin supplements to everyone but you can only go so far trying to mitigate physical damage and the amount of time it takes to heal. The mental damage is even harder to heal.

I'm happy to say that even Junie is doing better. She is still very weak and Waleski is concerned that she is anemic but the man actually went out of his way to give me kudos on the green broth and suggesting the liquid iron supplements. Waleski is normally such a curmudgeon that having him say anything at all surprised the heck out of me. I think he is kind of sweet on Junie but time plays odd tricks with my perceptions, and I have to keep reminding myself it really isn't all that long ago that Junie lost her husband in the Argos Hall battle.

Call me an incurable romantic at heart, but I do like to see people paired off into happy and healthy relationships. I had thought that Rachel and Waleski had something going for a while but when I mentioned something to Rachel she nearly snorted coffee out of her nose and told me in no uncertain terms that working with him was OK but a relationship was out of the question. She laughed so hard I was almost offended and said two cranky people in a relationship just wouldn't work. I suppose I had to agree with her there. It's taken Scott and I years to work on and live with some of our mutual quirks. And two strong personalities will only work when there is a goodly amount of compromise and appreciation on both sides. Still, I look around and don't really see anyone in our group as a good fit for her. There is Scott and I, Matlock and Becky, Dixon and Patricia, and even Rose and David. Now add to that Waleski and Junie (possibly). Cease is too young and McElroy is just too detached and unemotional … I think he is quietly grieving for someone but Matlock who apparently knows won't say.

Dixon and Patricia are still an odd pair. It's like they're resigned to each other rather than willingly joined together. Weird. They have never married and didn't really live together either yet … oh, I don't know. Its just strange and totally different from what Scott and I have. What I need to do is keep my nose out of other people's business before I get into trouble. You'd think that with all the busy-body stuff I write about I have way too much time on my hands. But the opposite is the truth. There is just so few of us and we are closely confined with each other. Makes some boundaries easy to forget. Unfortunately best of intentions isn't always a good excuse and I keep reminding myself of this as frequently as I can.

I guess I should say that the rhythm of the way we are living now, while not necessarily natural, does feel better than the chaos we've experienced too much of. Boring can be just as needed in life as excitement can be … even if it creates an opportunity for me to get a little overly nosy.

Despite everyone being healthier than they were, it is still too soon for us to send groups out on extended runs. However Scott, David, and I did make another run as far north as Sunset Plaza. We also stopped by several of the businesses on the west side of US41 on the way back to Sanctuary.

It bothered me a little bit for both Scott and I to be gone from Sanctuary at the same time but there wasn't a good way around it. We were anxious to finish gathering everything we could from all of the local businesses, and we also needed to see how badly things had been depleted by the groups passing through. Rachel was actually supposed to be the one to go instead of me, but she came down with a fever and chills over night. Waleski said it was just a cold combined with fatigue but he didn't want her out and over exerting herself further. Cease could have gone, he's nearly back to 100%, but he was mainly a look out last time we were there and wouldn't really notice if anything has been disturbed. That left me.

Matlock, worried that we had local raiders, wanted us to bring the remaining liquor supplies that we had left locked up in Winn Dixie. I wanted to make another run to Walgreens and Dollar General for some nonessentials that may have been overlooked previously. Scott wanted to see if there was anything in the supply rooms at Badcock Furniture; something I hadn't thought about at all.

We also had a couple of other places Scott wanted to stop. The propane store up near the railroad tracks, Pope's Well Drilling which was just a couple of buildings down from that, and Dumas Tire and Auto Repair. None of us were sure at the time what to expect. I was thinking all of those places would have been cleaned out before the first riot, and if not then surely since. Scott was optimistic that there would be something useful even if it was a big ticket item. David was just itching to stop talking and get moving; so we did.

We left just as the first rays lightened the sky. Matt and Dixon both saw us off. In fact most everyone came to see us off. It had become something of a ritual; you never knew if the last time you saw someone would be the last time you saw them, ever. You could tell Dix was chomping at the bit to come with us but he still wasn't completely healed. If he remained true to form he probably wore a track around the perimeter of the fence before we returned. I haven't checked. We've been too busy.

Our first stop was to go back to Sunset Plaza. There was no doubt that others had been in the Walgreens and Dollar General. I was able to grab a few things like pantyhose (for storing onions in), children's toys (for the coming holiday season), air fresheners and deodorizing chemicals, and some plastic containers and tubs that I had missed last time; but for the most part things were pretty thoroughly picked over.

Badcock Furniture yielded some stuff that put David and Scott in hog heaven. What is it about guys, tools, and wood that seems to send them into raptures? Actually I grabbed some office supplies from the back area; and candelabras and some candles that were sprinkled through out the store as accessories. I also had David grab some of the folding tables as I thought at some point they would come in useful. And I took some good linens and pillows off the display beds. There were actually quite a few things lying around that would have come in handy but I didn't have all day to "shop" so only managed to throw a few things in here and there.

When we finally made it down to Winn Dixie we didn't hold out much hope that the liquor was still upstairs. What we hadn't counted on were the zombies acting more or less like guard dogs. There were a few more sanitized zombies and a couple more "live ones" I didn't recognize from last time. I'm sure I would have remembered the one-armed Goth Girl or the man with no pants whose genital area had been chewed off. Scott and David said that guy was gonna show up in their nightmares. Can't say as I blame them; he was nasty in a way your ordinary, run of the mill zombie wasn't. I don't know what he was when he was alive, but he gave me the creeps the way a child pornographer would. Something told me that this guy had at least partly deserved what he got.

Someone had tried to break into the security door at the foot of the stairs. That was obvious. There were marks all over the metal door. More than that though were all of the sanitized zombies – now permanently dead and decaying – surrounding the customer service register area that was immediately in front of that door. The raiders must have made too much noise and drawn too many zombies for them to handle. There were a couple of other "Gothik" looking boy zombies to go along with Goth Girl so either that group was completely overwhelmed or a few of them escaped and decided to take their losses and run.

But see, we had the key so only had to deal with the fact that the door almost wouldn't opened because the push bar had been bent. There was just enough noise when we finally got it opened to draw a zombie that for some odd reason reminded me of Rodney Dangerfield. When he died he was just passed middle age but was wearing a leisure suit of all things. He was balding in an unfortunate way and had those strange buggy eyes that Dangerfield had. I quietly took care of him with the machete and thought to myself, "Here's a little respect for ya mister." I'm just glad I managed to stop myself from saying it aloud.

The machete, ever since the battle with the raiders, has become one of those must-have, never-leave-home-without-it fashion accessories for me. Its quiet and good for close in work. With guns you can sanitize from much further away but the noise will always draw more. The machete means I can drop a zombie and pretty much not have to worry about causing other zombies to zero in on me. With few exceptions they never pay any attention to one another which just reinforces, at least in my mind, how purely instinctual their responses are and how unlikely it is for them to ever work together in any way.

We carried the last of the liquor down and put it into the trailer in fairly short order. I couldn't help but worry that we were being watched. I didn't have that creepy feeling of being watched or anything like that. It was more just a logical concern. To be on the safe side however we chose not to go far from the truck for the remainder of the Run. We closed and put the garbage can in front of the doors before starting up the F350's big engine and pulling away with the 8 x 20 foot enclosed cargo trailer that we had swiped from the post office last time we were out. Even if a few zombies were attracted to the sound of the truck's engine we would get away before they came out and they'd lose interest quickly after that.

It was getting close to lunch so I passed out the Logan Bread spread with apple butter that I had packed last night. When we were planning the Run it was decided not to take the time to eat a full lunch which would take up time that could otherwise be used for returning to Sanctuary quicker. Besides, the smell of the zombies, and the smell from decomposition on some places could get more than a little overpowering; the miasma couldn't be healthy. That's one of the reasons why we wear latex gloves under our work gloves and some type of mask when we are out gathering. NRS bacteria wasn't much of a concern because of the minimal time it survived outside of a host. But decomposing bodies could have all sorts of other things associated with them. Who wants to avoid NRS only to contract Hepatitis C? Or get tetanus? Both are bad ways to go.

From the east side of US41 we switched over the west while we made our way back home. We hit the McDonald's first. You would have thought that was a stupid waste of time but I actually hit a little pay dirt and snagged several cases of condiments, some paper goods, but best of all some cleaning products and five gallon buckets that still had their lids. Those suckers would come in handy for getting all of the feed and whole grains out of those feed bags. In fact, my plan tomorrow is to have the kids start doing that very thing. It will keep them occupied. Those bags have been worrying me to pieces. They don't provide any protection from rodents and bugs … at least plastic buckets slow them down a little.

We also hit the Sunset Diner – again getting mainly cleaners and condiments; and Pinch-a-Penny Pool Supplies were we really racked up some supplies. The powdered and liquid chlorine will be very useful for both the non-potable water to keep algae at bay and to clean off zombie guts from the road. I grabbed a case of muriatic acid as well but that stuff is even more toxic that the chlorine and we'll have to be careful how we store it.

From that small strip center we moved down passed the burned out skeleton of the First Baptist Church to Green Gardens and Gifts where I grabbed all of the seeds, fertilizers, organic bug stuff, top soil, etc. that they had. We would have kept going but we were running out of space and the day was getting late. That store definitely deserves another Run. People weren't thinking about self-sufficiency when they were rioting and looting. They were only thinking about their most immediate needs and desires.

Next stop was the propane store. We grabbed what we could but we have no way of knowing which tanks are full and which are empty ... for all we know they are all empty so I'm not going to get over excited yet.

The last place we stopped was Dumas. The place was ominously clean in stark contrast to the total mess we found in other places. Here it was like everything had been removed in an orderly fashion in hopes of returning it back when things settled down. What was bizarre was there were two dogs inside. They had been left food that must have run out a couple of days ago, though they still had water, but they were very weak. Of course the smell of urine and feces was everywhere. We couldn't leave them to die in such a horrible way. I crumbled up the last few slices of Logan Bread that I hadn't eaten and gave it do the dogs hoping to settle them down. They were pathetically tucking their tales and begging for attention, like they had been scared to death and lonely.

It was strange how the dogs hadn't barked. David suggested that maybe they had barked so much they had lost their voice. They were in the midst of gobbling the bread down when they suddenly got real skittish and tried to hide, even leaving the food behind. The three of us turned just in time to see a goodly sized zombie still dressed in tattered mechanic coveralls stumble over the threshold. I recognized him as one of the guys that had worked on my van at one point. It had a distinctive scar through its eyebrow and a piercing through the other brow that made him memorable. Scott used my machete and it was survivors one and zombies zero. Scott mumbled to himself, "I've got to get me one of these things."

The mechanic must have been coming around to feed the dogs on occasion before being turned. That meant that he probably lived close by. David suggested we take a few minutes and look in the houses that were just on the other side of the shop. We got lucky. The second house we looked into must have belonged to the mechanic or at least being used by him to store stuff in. The first thing we spotted was several large bags of dog food on the kitchen table. We carefully investigated the rest of the house but whatever caused the mechanic's NRS wasn't in the house. What was in the house however was the missing stuff from the auto shop. Oil, tires, tools, and quite a bit of other stuff besides. This man may have been one of our "local" raiders.

The dogs followed us and were happy to have another bit of chow from the dog food supply. One of the back bedrooms held a small store's worth of both people and dog food. We took all the food, oil, dogs, and dogfood with us and then secured the house. Yeah, we've added two dogs to the menagerie. But I still miss my little chickens. Powdered eggs are OK and do the job, but I sure would like to have started a little flock so that eggs and fresh meat could have been something to plan for and not just dream about.

Tomorrow Scott and David planned to return with Cease and maybe James to load up on all of the other stuff and then go back to the Garden Shop and pick up everything from there that we had been forced to leave behind. All three of us were exhausted by this time and it was only a couple of hours before dark so decided to head back to Sanctuary. It was only across the road anyway. We were nearly back to the van with the dogs when they stopped and cocked their heads and then raced into the open truck door and hunched down on the floor board.  
Scott and David were looking around for the threat – especially after the way the dogs had acted at the appearance of the zombie earlier – however I had begun to hear something. Something I hadn't heard and in a long, long time. The far off sound of chug, chug, chug … rushing along … but it was going so fast. They never came through our neighborhood that quickly. Scott and David heard it a split second after I did and we shot to the truck and got it going. We had to get across US41 before it made it here or we could be stuck on the other side for who knows how long.

OMG! It was a race. I swear I don't know how we didn't flip, especially with that long trailer attached, when we bounced across the concrete median and across the train tracks at the end of our road right before a loud, noisy train barreled through. Did I mention loud and noisy?! What crazy idiot was doing loud-and-noisy with zombies on the loose? We still don't know, may never know. It was a long train and appeared to hold people. Yeah, people of all things.

Matlock and Dixon had been sent for by whoever the sentry was when they had spotted us pulling into Dumas. Come to think of it, to have seen us they had to have been up in the big live oak at the road near our fenced in section of the orange grove, so it was likely Cease or James who both climb like monkeys. They watched us as we loaded the trailer and then wondered why we freaked out and barreled for home until they too heard the train. If they hadn't had the gates open we likely would have jack knifed the truck and trailer before we could have slowed down enough for them to get it open.

We knew it wouldn't take long and sure enough the first zombies began to stumble out of the tree line and fall under the wheels of the train before it had even finished passing. When it rains it pours as they say. I heard screaming from our rear and turned to see a young woman with two children begging to be let in the back gates … and several zombies were heading that direction. The girl kept going, "Take the kids, take the kids, please God, save the kids! They can't run any more!" We had the gate chained six ways from Sunday since we rarely used it and I told her to start climbing. I started the same time she and the kids did.

They weren't going to make it. She was trying to get the kids to climb and pushing them ahead of her, but they couldn't have been but about five or six and they were exhausted and simply didn't have any more to give. As tired as I was, my fat fanny still managed to make it up and over the top of the fifteen foot fence before she was even four feet off the ground. I was coming down right as someone started shooting. Scott, David, and James had spotted me right as I had reached the top.

I reached down and grabbed the closest kid and was hauling him up when I felt someone else on the fence with us. I swear it was too much. I was sure it was a zombie until I saw Waleski of all people taking the kid from me and pushing him up to Cease who was straddling the top of the fence. I reached down grabbed the other kid from the girl and hefted him up to Waleski. Two down one to go. Right when I bent to give the girl a hand I felt something grab my hair. God that hurt. I hate to have my hair pulled and I was nearly yanked off the fence. The girl was screaming and trying to climb faster and was nearly to the top without help now that the kids were safe.

There was a huge boom from the road beyond the zombies and it distracted the one hanging onto my hair enough that it turned and gave Scott a clear shot. My ears rang for nearly an hour afterwards. I also have a nice bullet burn on my neck; not a graze, but that was how close the bullet came to me. I shot to the top, flipped over and got to the ground on shaking legs as fast as I could before the zombies got interested in me again.

Scott was pissed. No, Scott was more than pissed. Scott was royally and painfully furious and about two seconds away from a stroke. If there'd been time and he'd been that kind of guy my backside would have been blistered before I could have drawn another breath. As it was its taken all evening to calm him down long enough to apologize for scaring him. But if it had been our kids on the other side of that fence ...

We spent the rest of the evening until it became too dark to see making sure that none of the zombies that had been fired up by the passing of the train took any more notice of us. The big boom I heard? James had found some fireworks in one of the homes we had been gathering from. It was just a couple of black cats tied together with a rubber band but it was enough of a distraction to set up my escape.

Right before evening fell a dark plume of smoke was spotted several miles to our north. Zombies kept heading that direction so whatever mess is up that way is sending out some serious distress signals that the zombies are focusing in on. Many have passed our gates with nary a bit of curiosity … or at least what we call curiosity, like they are scanning for sounds that will trigger their hunger or rage reaction.

The ragers, as we call them, are few and far between thank goodness. Those are the ones that seem to go berserk and tear up anything and everything in their path … like they are on a feeding frenzy with a good sized dollop of fury thrown in. I don't know what makes them so different about them but you can tell a potential rager from a normal zombie. A potential rager moves slower most of the time; almost like a brand new zombie or one that is beginning to wind down. They could be taking more time to scan their surroundings, who knows? But, the difference begins to show when they get focused on their target. They suddenly speed up – at least in comparison to other zombies – and then they start exhibiting a foamy blood around their mouths; like manifesting bloody rabies. They are uber strong too. It doesn't matter what their size is. The only rager child zombie I saw pulled a car door off its hinges just by yanking when it was going after whatever had made the noise inside the nearly burned out shell. A regular zombie won't stay that interested long enough to bother. Regular zombies are after the easy meal and will lose interest quickly if there is no noise to draw their attention.

Temporarily we have moved everyone back into our house and done our best to secure the supplies in the "hospital" and other storage houses. We have look outs on the roof. No one is really sleeping tonight except Junie who was given a pain pill for her shoulder – something she hadn't needed for the last three days. The move didn't do her any good at all.

If the zombies are not paying us any mind as they move steadily northward what on earth would cause us to worry so much? It's that orange glow in the sky that has started off to our north. We've all been trying to guess what happened. The two main theories are either the train derailed – a possibility given its speed and the fact that it was going to have to make a good sized curve across from Padgett Lake up in Land O' Lakes on the other side of the county line; right up near where we think that other big enclave is. Or, that the train threw a spark or threw something off the train that ignited some of the dry ground up that way. We had rain not that long ago but it wasn't enough to set off the precipitation-deficit we've been running for the last several years.

The dogs are ecstatic with their new living arrangements. Oh my glory, every person in this house has gotten a thorough tongue washing. Well, I finally had enough of ye ol' stinky dog and asked Samuel to take charge and give the dogs as thorough a bath as he and the other kids could manage with as little water as possible. Their names, according to their tags, are Butch and Sundance. Let's hope they don't meet the same sad end as their name sakes.

I'll try and update tomorrow but it will depend on how "exciting" things get.


	53. Day Seventy-Seven

**Day 77**

The danger looks like it's been diverted but the work of clean up will take days yet. No one slept much last night. The kids, happy to all be back together again were somewhat rowdy despite the danger outside. Well, all except for our two newest little ones who were exhausted and more than a tad overwhelmed.

Melody is nineteen years old and was a sophomore in the College of Nursing at USF when NRS came to town. She was immediately called to service when the Health Care Personnel Delivery System draft was activated. Luckily she was assigned to a local location and was able to fight her way back home after the Quarantine Order was issued. Her father, a Sergeant in the Hillsborough County Sheriff's Department, never came home from work. Her mother died when she was 16 and her only sibling was a sister that had moved back home last year after her divorce became final. The little children, Belle and Trent, are Melody's niece and nephew.

Melody hasn't seen her sister since she simply got up a week after the worst of the rioting ended and walked out on them, leaving Melody the sole caretaker of the children. They quickly ran out of food and their neighborhood began to be overrun with zombies. Melody and the kids had been moving about trying to find a safe haven to hide in. Several times they thought they had found a place to stop only to be chased off by other people or forced to run when zombies became too numerous. It wasn't until they had arrived in our neighborhood that they had felt relatively safe. Melody had just gotten up the courage to come up to the gates and risk rejection again when a large number of zombies caught them away from the house they had been sleeping in at night. They had barely made it to our gates and Melody was nearly hysterical by the time they were in, fearing she couldn't convince us to at least take in the children.

She has been stalwart and calm most of today after we assured her that she and the children were welcome to stay in Sanctuary. Rachel, after giving them all a clean bill of health, urged Melody to allow Belle and Trent to play with the other kids while she took some time to be with the adults. We've been pulling bits and pieces of the story out of her all day long. She isn't much of a talker but will talk as long as others are willing to lead the conversation. She's fine, simply one of those people are naturally shy and reserved.

By moon glow during the night we noticed that ash occasionally floated down from the sky. The ash became heavier as night changed to morning. The smoke was so bad we moved the goats to the carport. Ol' Billy, Butch, and Sundance came to some kind of animal understanding that now was not the time to express their differences.

We had to cook on the grill on the lanai to keep ash out of the food, but we couldn't keep the smell of smoke out. I dampened sheets and hung them on the bamboo shades on the lanai and over the doors that were being used most often, but that only helped a little.  
Breakfast as a huge casserole made from dehydrated has browns, powdered eggs, dried onions and green pepper, chopped spam, and powdered cheese. I cooked it in a large aluminum pan I found at the Sunset Diner yesterday. It needed to be browned on top and I would have loved to have some real cheddar, but no one complained. Belle nearly broke my heart when she asked if she was allowed to eat everything on her place or did she need to save some for later?

That simple question reinforced how fortunate we have been. Yes, we've had losses – three graves out in the orange grove prove it – but we are still incredibly well off compared to some of the survivors that are still roaming around out there.

All through breakfast I was in worry-mode and making a list of must-do's. After breakfast I finally needed to work off my worry. I covered the water barrels and asked that they be brought into the lanai. I then told Dante' I needed to requisition all of the sheets we had so I could cover the plants to keep th ash off of them.

James got Cease and David to help him set tarps over as much of the garden as they could. Scott set saw horses with 2 x 4's laid across them and ground in our hanging strawberry baskets and then started moving the rest of the potted plants, trees, and vines that we had been leaving outside. I harvested everything that even approached being ready in the landscape. Lunch and dinner was a grazing buffet. Rose taught Josephine and Melody how to make tortillas and they made enough to last us all two meals before they were through. I had Sarah, Laura, and Bekah scrub and chop and slice jicama, broccoli, cucumbers, and cherry tomatoes. Becky and Tina helped by dicing a couple cans of Spam and making some easy dips like Spicy BBQ Bean Dip, Hot Crab Dip (used canned crab and processed cheese), and Ranch Dip Mix. To all of this I added some miscellaneous stuff like a jar of peanut butter, a couple of jars of home preserved fruit, end of garden pickles, watermelon pickles, a jar of relish and another of chow chow, and then a couple of cans of potted meat, deviled ham, and chicken salad. Wasn't the best meal I've ever fixed but it got the job done and we didn't have to do any more cooking.

After lunch I wanted to go gather what all I could from the trees and bushes in the neighborhood but Dixon nixed the idea. He was afraid the wind would change and send the fire in our direction. He did not want any of us to take a chance on getting caught away from our evacuation plans.

As it turned out I was glad I didn't get very far from home. The smoke was terrible. It was hard on everyone's lungs and eyes despite our masks and goggles. Plus it would have been too easy to get turned around and lose my way. Add to that the zombies were acting more strangely than normal and you had a potential recipe for disaster.

Taking my turn on watch I saw an amazing sight. I watched animals you didn't normally see out and about brazenly scurrying away from the direction of the fire. A lot of the wild animals climbed the fence near the canal to find refuge in the orange grove. Not all of them did of course. Most of them continued south, trying to escape the heavy smoke. Members of the silent procession would sometimes get too close to the zombies travelling in the opposite direction and got snatched up and devoured by a walking corpse. It was an eerie sight. A horde of zombies constantly streaming by, drawn by the sounds within the fire. Animals running the opposite direction for the very same reason.

Turkeys, peacocks and peahens, song birds, and hawks hid in the branches of the orange trees side-by-side with raccoons, opossums, and squirrels. Cease who had been up in the oak tree brought in a singed mother calico cat and two equally bedraggled kittens. Waleski, on his turn at the fence, slipped out and grabbed a little female pup barely limping along that Butch and Sundance fawned over quite a bit. I left all the new residents to the care of others.

I like animals as well as the next person but I just didn't have anything else to give right then and I'm worried about the additional mouths to feed. The goats can be fed on garden scraps and forage but dogs and cats are carnivores and the animal food found won't last forever. Scott caught me gazing down on Sarah with the animals and climbed up to the roof with a fresh bandana to use to cover my face with. We sat talking about our myriad of concerns while searching the smoke laden horizon for signs of flames, eventually being interrupted when Melody came up the ladder to join us.

"Rose said I should talk to you two," she started out but then seemed to get stuck.

Scott as direct as ever asked her, "About what?"

"We can really stay here? I know this is your real house. I mean your house from before. We can stay here indefinitely? I'll do all the work we need to get us a spot. I'm stronger than I look. I just need to know for sure," she replied hunched over like she expected us to have changed out minds.

Scott and I finally convinced her she and the children were indeed welcome and that nothing more would be asked of her than would be asked of the rest of us. Our enclave operates as a team and while we do have a hierarchy of authority of sorts, but each of us also has our individual talents and interests that we pursue as well.

She said, "in that case I should tell you that there is a big house over off of Vandervort Road that is full of that survival type food like you used at breakfast."

"What kind of food?" I asked.

"That stuff in those big cans and buckets. Some of it is beans but there's a lot of other stuff too. Powdered eggs, stuff called Alpine Aire, Provident Pantry, Mountain House and things like that."

Scott was suspicious and wanted to know, "How did you find this out?"

"Belle, Trent and I were in a little block shed next to the house when these scary crazy looking people showed up with this big black semi truck. They were dressed in khaki but they weren't real military guys."

"How could you tell?"

"My sister's ex was military. You can tell the difference between real military and people who are pretending. Besides none of them had the same type of khaki on. No one matched liked they would if they were a real unit."

"OK, then what happened," Scott prompted.

"The guys with the guns were pushing around some other people that didn't have guns and made them take everything out of the truck and into the house. It took them hours to unload it all."

When she seemed about to stop again I asked, "Are the men still there? Do you know?"

"Most of the people left with the truck and the other vehicles they were driving. Four guys with guns and two women stayed at the house. Something must have happened because several days later no one had returned and the six people they left behind started arguing and drinking. Then one night something must have really gone wrong because one morning when I woke up one of the women had turned zombie, the other woman was in pieces in the drive way, and two guys were shooting at other zombies in the yard. I watched for a while and the two men tried to make a run for their car but they never made it, one of those nasty ones came out of the bushes and fell on 'em in the car. I don't know where the other two guys went."

"But how do you know what's in the house?" I persisted.

In a quiet monotone Melody continued, "We were so hungry. Finally, after another day I didn't feel like I had any choice. Trent was getting sick and Belle, she had this awful look in her eyes. As quiet as we could we went over to the house. The women zombie had wandered away. The zombie and the two men had torn each other apart. There was blood all over the inside of the windows of the car. The side door where the guys had come out of was still unlocked. There was a lot of blood on the floor and walls inside the house and it really stank, but not zombie stink. More like septic stink. All I cared about was finding food for us as soon as possible."

She had stopped but this time began talking again without prompting and with a little sob said, "None of the fancy food does any good if you don't know how to fix it. Even if I had known how to cook it there wasn't a can opener to be found. I barely figured out how to work the MREs that were in the kitchen. There was about a dozen bottles of water and some granola bars too. It was like being handed the key to the city only to find they've changed the lock."

After another pause she asked, "Have you guys seen any cops? Any cops at all?"

"No honey, we haven't."

"Yeah, me either. I miss my dad. He would have known what to do with that food. He switched to desk duty after mom died so that he could work more regular hours and be there when I needed him to be. But they put him back on patrol during the riots. He came by the clinic to tell me to be careful and to give me a kiss. If he was still alive he would have come home. I just can't deal with the idea of him wandering around as a zombie."

Poor kid; she wasn't much older than Rose and sounded like she had led a pretty sheltered life until recently. She let Scott and I comfort her while she cried a bit and when she had cried all she could I took her back inside to Becky and Tina so they could put her to bed and keep an eye on her.

I asked Dixon and Matlock if they had a moment and asked them to come up to the roof. We got up there to find that McElroy and Cease had come to take over the watch. The six of us discussed Melody's story. McElroy needed convincing that it wasn't just that … a story.

I told them she didn't strike me as the type plus she waited until we were sure she and the kids could stay before telling us about the food. She could have used the food location as a bargaining chip, but she didn't.

Dixon said the black semi could have been a NRSC supply truck. They were all black and unmarked just like she described. One could have been found or hijacked. We wouldn't know for sure until we checked Melody's story out.

As the day worn on the smoke cut off visibility from 50 yards down to 50 feet. Sunshine was completely muted and being outside was like walking in a stinking fog. Small explosions could be heard every so often.

I didn't want to admit it but I was scared. Matlock had ordered enough vehicles prepared to carry us all in case the flames got too close. Throught out the day we monitoried which way the flames traveled. They zigged and zagged coming ever nearer. But, in the end the fire was driven west of us by a light breeze. We will stay on high alert for a few more days in case any flair ups occur.

Zombies wander out of the smoke with little warning. It's one of the reasons we have remained behind the fence. And now it is too dark to patrol. Tomorrow promises to be a full day. Two patrols are going out; one to assess fire damage and to see how close it really came to us. The other patrol would check out Melody's story. The rest of us will remain at Sanctuary and try and clean up the mess the smoke and ash has left behind.


	54. Day Seventy-Eight

**Day 78**

Long day. I guess that is one way to describe today … long. Wouldn't cover everything that has happened but I guess there isn't just one word for that.

The smell of smoke continues to permeate everything. I'd love to be able to get away from it, even for a few minutes, but it's everywhere; inside and out. It gets on your skin and in your hair and when you lay down at night it gets on the sheets and bedding … we just don't have enough water or time to wash as often and the way we would like. I know that sounds nasty, but it's true.

The smoke itself has dissipated in our immediate area but there are wisps of it here and there where there are still hot spots in the debris or things that are still smoldering. The flames stopped about three-quarters of a mile from us, just north of a road called Debuel on our side of the highway. On the other side, the west side, the fire line is about another half-mile north; starting right where the tree line is – or should I say used to be. The fire ran at an angle going NNW after the wind turned. The amount of black smoke on the horizon in that direction makes it seem like the fire is still burning. With no fire trucks or major geographic fire breaks to stop it, it might burn all the way to US19 and the Gulf of Mexico; coming somewhere between Safety Harbor and Spring Hill if it continues on its present course. The only thing that might stop it would be a major rain storm or some of the lakes in Pasco County. If it makes it passed these two obstacles then anything and everything in the fire's path is toast for who knows how many miles.

After a breakfast of Welsh Rarebit made with tomatoes from my patio containers, toast from bread made fresh yesterday, and a sauce primarily made up of powdered cheese, our two patrols went out. Dixon led the patrol that went to investigate the extent of the fire damage. He took McElroy and Rachel with him. Rachel is till coughing but she works well with Dix and they wanted a medic along in case they found any injured people. Matlock led a team over to Vandervort Road to check out Melody's story. Scott, David, and Cease went with him. Waleski remained at Sanctuary. Dante' was more mobile, but not enough to go on a Run, same for Junie. Dante' and Junie are both good eggs they just don't have the training (or maybe inclination) to command. They were both clerks in Federal offices before they were drafted by the NRSC. Dante' has found his niche in supplies and requisitions. Junie is a lot like McElroy; she's a Jill-of-all-trades but I'm still not sure what her specialty was before she was in the NRSC.

I thought James would be upset about not going with Scott but much to my surprise he was not. He takes guard duty extremely serious; he's turning into quite a marksman with both gun and compound bow. And he likes working with Waleski. I never would have thought it, Waleski doesn't honestly strike me as the type, but James said he likes serving under Waleski more than Dixon because Waleski explains things. Dixon just orders people about and expects them to do it. That might be OK with adults but it doesn't work as well with kids … especially teenagers. They need to know why, it's how they learn at that stage of their development.

Waleski assigned the gate to Dante' so he didn't have to be on his crutches all day. Samuel, Bo, and Tom were a team that walked the canal-facing fence sections. James alternated between what we have begun to call "The Wall" – made by the steel storage containers – and climbing into the branches of the Big Oak where he and Cease had built a type of "crow's nest" that acted as a look out post.

Rose, Josephine, Melody and I got a break from watching the kids. Becky, Tina, and Patricia took the younger kids except for Kitty whom I had in a sling on my back for most of the day. Sarah, Bekah, and Laura were assigned to help me in the garden when they weren't on kitchen duty. This gave them a break from babysitting their younger siblings as well.

You know, children are a blessing. They are literally our future. There is nothing more precious. You receive tenfold the amount of love and affection that you give them. But they are a huge responsibility. They can be a lot of work. Sometimes they can even be a lot of stress. It can also be scary as all get out having someone else's life in your hands like that. Whether well or sick, kids are almost totally dependent upon the adults in their lives. Sharing the responsibility of caring for the children only makes sense in our group. None of us has to become overwhelmed and the actual mothers can pass along skills to the women (and men) without.

Patricia had something snide to say about how "we women" were losing all of our hard won rights and liberation. I hope she doesn't infect Rose, Josephine or Melody with her skewed view of feminism. More than that, I hope she doesn't cause problems for the group. Not again; we've already got a pretty hefty load to bear.

As I worked with all of the girls in the garden I quietly reminded them that we still have equal say here in Sanctuary. But in some circumstances there can only be one "chief." I reminded them - and also introduced Melody to some of this info for the first time - that we all had areas where we were "chief" either by training and/or by talent. Coincidentally, most of these areas fell into traditional male/female rolls, but that was all it was; coincidence. I then explained to Melody about the trauma Patricia had endured.

"I saw a lot of that during the second round of riots," Melody said. "I was going to go into psychiatric nursing so they had me in the Lock-Down ward at the St. Joe Women's Hospital satellite facility. The treatment team said a lot of our patients were probably going to develop PTSD or some symptoms of it. Patricia's … um … behaviors may give her a sense of being in control that she needs to feel safe."

Samuel caught us talking when he rounded the corner to get to the out house. I felt embarrassed and guilty about being caught by the fourteen year old son of the subject we were gossiping about.

He must have understood the look on my face and before I could respond to his appearance he said, "No. That's OK. Mom's always been a little … Dad calls her 'strongly opinionated.' It's been worse since we had to move to Argos Hall and then to here. She used to be able to get all of that out of her system at work. She owned her own CPA firm you know. But she can't boss people around like she used to; I don't think she has figured that out all the way yet. And she keeps getting sick too."

"What do you mean sick, honey?" I asked.

"You know," he whispered to avoid having Patricia hear him sharing private details. "She pukes and stuff sometimes. And she's always tired. Dad says she's just stressed out and will get better again. All I know is she's really grumpy one second and crying the next. She was getting better but now she's acting kinda weird all over again. Please don't be mad at her. Dad's trying to get her to ease up. She's lots better when Dad can spend more time with her. She never liked it when he went on patrol. She really doesn't like it these days. I think it makes her feel scared, like the stuff at Argos is going to happen to her again."

"Sugar, were' not mad at her," I assured him. "We're just trying to understand."

That seemed to make him happy and relieved his mind but as he left all I could think was, "Oh … crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap!" I don't think the girls picked up on it. Melody might with a little more prompting, but then again she's still settling in and her mind isn't in professional mode right now.

If you're not a woman those symptoms might not mean anything to you, but to me they spelled a potentially significant new situation for us to face. I didn't know whether to talk to Rachel or whether I should try and casually get Dixon thinking though I'm not sure the big lunkhead would get it unless I spelled it out to him. Stress … I swear that man must have some wires crossed somewhere. For now I'm keeping my suspicions to myself … but, oh crap.

Today was Tuesday so after the garden everyone sat down and started mending some of the clothes and socks in our respective family's laundry baskets. We've had to use markers to put names on the tags of everyone's clothing. The kids stuff gets mixed up if we don't. James and David both are terribly hard on their clothes. David has been pretty good about fixing his own clothing but lately he simply hasn't had the time. And Scott has holes in the toes in nearly all his socks. I've got to tell him he needs to trim his toenails and keep them trimmed. There aren't any new socks coming down the pike … only what we can gather while on our runs and not all of them are thick enough for wearing with boots. Tina and Becky have promised to teach anyone that wants to learn how to knit. Sarah and Bekah are both eager. I may have to take the time to learn as well; who knows, I may be knitting Scott's socks before all of this is over and done with; if it ever is all over and done with.

Speaking of knitting, crocheting, and sewing … we've got a nice little stash of yarns, embroidery floss, thread, material, etc. growing but I would like to see that become a priority at some point. Maybe not for a special trip but I'd love to get over to Dale Mabry and see if Michael's Craft Store still has anything in it. I wish … Oh well, wish in one had. You know the old saying. We've got a lot to do before we can make a Run out to Dale Mabry and by then it might be too late. As long as we're wishing I would like to add a treadle sewing machine to my wish list. I wish I had my great grandmother's that is sitting in my mom's sewing room … and that's about all I can think in that direction. It hurts too much.

Lunch for those of us still inside Sanctuary was Tang Tang Noodles made with crunchy peanut butter and Ramen noodles. OK, so I didn't feel like cooking … shoot me. I made enough for everyone; I just didn't feel like eating. I had too much on my mind. Instead of eating I sat and wrote in my memory book.

Dixon and his crew startled us by returning before everyone had finished eating lunch. We found out just how bad things looked. The destruction the fire has left in its wake is total. My guess is that any hope we had of gathering in that direction has been obliterated. There are still a few places this side of the fire, but not of the same interest as what we wanted to look for on the other side of Sunset Blvd. That whole Winn Dixie strip center is nothing but a shell. The whole intersection is simply gone. Even the road is melted in a couple of places; certainly all that new black top the county put down in the Spring is. The old concrete sections held up better but not by much. The patrol got as far as 1st Avenue, and still didn't find any survivors or anything worth the effort of salvaging it. The branch of the library up there was nothing but a foundation; the elementary school where I had hoped to get resources to teach the kids is gone as well.

As soon as they made the decision to turn back they heard it; the hum of another engine. They had already been sighted so there was no use running. They prepared to make a stand when someone stood up from the back of the truck and waived a white flag. Still cautious, Dixon said he decided to see what they wanted because they really did need more info about other groups in the area. Trading info cost us nothing but could gain us a whole lot.

It was a patrol from the big Pasco County enclave … only they don't call themselves the Pasco County Enclave. They call themselves Hale Hollow. "Hale" is from Hale Road which is apparently where their compound is. I wound up having to show the area to everyone on one of our local maps. Their perimeter suffered some scorching from the fire, they lost one storage building, and they had to evacuate their people. They evacuated not because of the fire but because of the zombies.

The train did derail right about where Scott and I thought it had. The train was too long and they were going too fast for the tracks and the area. Some of the rear cars derailed and then took most of the rest of the train with it. They had people packed in there like sardines. When the cars left the tracks most of the people inside them never stood a chance. The fire took more. The corpses that immediately reanimated took still more. Actually there were some survivors … too many for the Hale Hollow group alone to take in for any length of time. They were shy of places for about two dozen people. Another enclave, a splinter group from Hale Hollow, which was way out Ehren Cutoff near the cemetery, was willing to take most of them but if we could take at least one family that would help out everyone a lot. We had the room but Dix told them there had to be at least one or two able-bodied males that could be counted on take orders and help out with the extra work they would cause our group.

They said they'd talk it over and figure out who was willing to come. If we were still willing to take them we are to meet at noon tomorrow in the same location, barring zombies or natural disasters. Scott wasn't too happy with Dix for simply inviting strangers into our home. Yes, we have room for people in Sanctuary but our house is full up.

Speaking of Scott and the patrol group he was on ….

They returned a half hour after Dixon and his group came in. I thought that the house Melody had mentioned was a bust until Scott backed the trailer right up to one of the houses we had not begun rehabbing yet. David ran over and asked everyone that could to come help unload because they wanted to make at least one more Run before it got too dark.

Scott came around corner of the truck when he saw me walk up and handed me a big box. I should have known something was up. He had too much of a straight face on for the situation. As soon as he handed me the box something moved in it and started scuttling around. Well, of course I shrieked like a snake had bit me.

Those asses. They were just about rolling around on the ground howling in laughter. I could have strangled every one of them. James must have been in on it too 'cause he was laughing as hard as the rest of them. Before I could really lay into them I heard "peep, peep, scratch, peep." You would not believe it. They found an old broody hen and the chicks she had just hatched.

Scott laughed and said, "You better be happy with those things. That damn chicken just about pecked the hell out of every one of us before we could get her and her chicks in that box."

Humph. Everyone of them needed a good kick in the pants. But I suppose I'll let 'em off this once. I guess it was kind of funny … except my shriek drew a couple of zombies that then had to be sanitized. Not even that would stop those buffoons from snickering though. I swear … men!

I took my chicks and their momma over to the dog run. The holes in the fencing were too big and the chicks could pop through so I lined the sides of the cage and its gate with rabbit fencing and used wire to hold it in place. I took an igloo type dog house and put it in the dog run and some nesting material so Mrs. Broody could set her new home up to her convenience. Then I put in the stuff that Becky told me to use for chickens … little bit of the cracked corn, some grit, a little bit of fish meal. When the feed runs out from the Feed Depot we are going to have to free range the chickens. We'll have to see how this turns out. For now all I care about is making sure that I don't starve them to death. I'd love to let them roam around in the orange grove but that pretty much will guarantee some hawk depredation. I won't risk that until I absolutely have to.

By the time I had finished making sure the birds were tricked out in their new digs, the big trailer had been unloaded, the truck's fuel tanks refilled and they were ready to go again. Dixon's patrol grabbed the transport that hadn't seen much use lately and followed the F350 and trailer out the rear gate of Sanctuary. The only change that was made was that Waleski took McElroy's place because he had been up nearly 28 hours without a rest. While McElroy was winding down and making sure the perimeter guards were still good to go, he told me what he had heard from Scott.

When they had first gotten to the house that Melody had described they didn't think their chances were very good. The doors of the house were standing open and there were a couple of cars parked at the street. But then Scott noticed that there was moss and twigs on the top of the cars like they had been parked there for a while. They checked the cars and leaves had blown inside. Keeping an eye out they made their way to the house.

It didn't take long for them to figure out what had happened. A small group must have found the stash and gotten so excited that they forgot to post a look out. It only takes one zombie to create a panic in an unprepared group. Matlock and Scott sanitized two zombies almost as soon as they entered the house using the axes they had decided to start carrying around. Cease put another one down in a back bedroom using his own version of a machete. David took down a fourth one in the backyard using a homemade mace. All of the other corpses were non-reanimated ones that were already in the late stages of decay or they were too destroyed (you can read that as eaten if you have the stomach) to have re-animated in the first place.

McElroy confirmed that the supplies were from the NRSC and may even have been from the original robbery of the Forum in downtown Tampa that triggered the final series of riots that resulted in the Quarantine Order. I haven't had a chance to look at everything but McElroy said there is a lot more than MREs. There are a lot of super pails with whole grains and legumes and cases of #10 cans of freeze dried stuff. Matlock wants it all inventoried before we use anything however. I'm hoping this will allow me to keep some of our supplies in the hidden pantries for a just-in-case emergency.

Vandervort is about three miles from our house to the east. Scott said that very few of the houses over there look like they have been broken into which confirms what Melody said. It took two more runs with both the big trailer and the transport to get everything back to Sanctuary and they made it right before evening fell.

I had thought we would make plans to start gathering over in that area but that's when I found out about the new people. Before I could get flustered and stick my foot in my mouth, Dixon and Matlock stated that tonight will be the last night that we all stay together in the same house. Tomorrow the group is going to divide up and start moving into the other houses whether they are fully ready or not. I'm thankful but it will take some getting used to, having our house back to ourselves. I think Melody will probably stay with us a while longer though. Rose whispered that she is still shy of most everyone and doesn't want to go off and live with any of them or by herself. Scott says that's fine, Belle can room with the girls and we are putting Johnnie and Bubby into a room of their own and they can just share with Trent. Rose agreed to share her room with Melody.

And get this, day after tomorrow the plans are to start enlarging Sanctuary and making The Wall higher. Some zombies had begun to trail our trucks after they left Vandervort the second time. To try and lose them they came back home the long way … Vandervort to Hanna Rd to US 41 and back up to the end of our street, coming in the front gate instead of the back. I had forgotten about that warehouse that was back in there at the corner of Hanna Rd and some little gated community. Well it turns out it has a lot of those steel storage containers lined up in the field behind it. Matlock said he counted fifteen in each row and there were ten or twelve rows. That will be more than sufficient for what we need, especially considering those things are the longer sixteen foot containers rather than the shorter eight foot ones which what makes up most of The Wall now. They are also the harder steel shelled commercial containers rather than steel frame with aluminum shells that are what most of the Pods in The Wall are.

We'll still have to use cyclone fencing in some locations but hopefully not as many feet. We'll also need to take down some fencing and maybe even some sheds so that we can run The Wall where we want it to go. I hate having to re do so much work but if we can enclose the entire orange grove and add some addition houses that would be really great. We're definitely going to need more diesel to do it however. Matlock even had the answer for that. There was a tanker sitting at this warehouse as well. Apparently it was a shipping hub that we had known nothing about, I didn't have much cause to drive that direction. I mean the old trucking station had sat vacant and derelict at the corner of US41 and Sinclair Hills for years. I hadn't realized they were still in business but had simply moved the operation off of US41.

I hope that tanker is true-to-life and not an illusion. The tank behind the Feed Depot was nearly dry last time a Run was made that direction and the tank in the orange grove is less than three quarter full. We can't continue moving around like this without fuel. Eventually we'll have to really prioritize what the fuel is going to be used for.


	55. Day Eighty-Two

**Day 82**

I've been too busy to write during the day and too tired at night. The last four days has certainly been … interesting.

We've run into two old acquaintances. One a potential friend and one a potential not-friend; I'm not sure if I'm prepared to call him an enemy or not, we'll see. Actually I'm hesitant to confirm either one's role without more information. Who knows, both of them could blow up in our faces or turn out to be the best thing since sliced bread.

We have not one new family, but three; two from the train and one couple from the Ehren Cutoff enclave. It's been a lot to assimilate in a short amount of time. So much has happened that I'm not going to be able to get it all down tonight. About all I'm good for is a quick introduction of our new members.

First there is Jerry and Muriel. They are a long married couple in their 60s but they are still active and hearty. Three months ago they were "snowbirds" who lived in their RV year around and who were visiting one of their adult daughters in Zephyrhills. Since then they've lost most everything they had except for a few personal items and the clothes on their backs. In fact they've lost it three times. First time was when they had to run for their lives and were picked up by some folks that eventually formed Hale Hollow. The second time was when they chose to leave there and follow the Ehren Cutoff enclave after the Hale Hollow group encountered some personality conflicts in their leadership. This time they lost it when they left the Ehren Cutoff group, completely disillusioned by the new leader's agenda. In Jerry's words, "That group is getting downright weird, maybe worse. The new leader insists on being called 'Brother Jeremiah' and is forcing out anyone that doesn't completely agree with the way he is running things." Muriel has been a homemaker for years but Jerry used to work in the funeral business. The only thing of any significant value he was able to bring out with them from the Ehren Cutoff group was a sanitizing device developed to use prior to the embalming process.

Our next family includes Hank and Trish and their kids. Hank and Trish were engaged to be married before NRS. The economic troubles of the time caused him to be laid off when the grocery store he managed was closed. They put their wedding plans on hold hopping Hank would find a job in short order. Instead, NRS only made finding a new job more difficult. They had combined their two households trying to save money when there was a large outbreak of NRS in Fort Lauderdale where they lived. They worked together and were able to secure a place on one of the refugee trains that head for the FL/GA border but they had to sign a Writ of Commitment before they were allowed to board with the children. Even though the writ really doesn't have much legal standing they now consider themselves married. Both Hank and Trish have children from their first marriages. Hank is still grieving for his estranged, college aged son who never escaped the third UCF massacre. His other son Brandon is introverted, immature, and bookish. He's struggling to find his footing with the men. Brandon isn't a bad kid, he's just not very self-motivated which means he requires pretty constant supervision to get him to move from one constructive task to the next. Trish's kids are 16 year old fraternal twins named Martin and Madison. The twins prefer to be called Marty and Maddie. Cute, right? Not.

I'm glad I don't have to deal with them on a too regular basis. Again, they are having a little trouble fitting in. They are both very extroverted and were very popular at their school. They're used to being pretty high up the teen social ladder and are having an adjustment reaction to suddenly being expected to shoulder so much responsibility without any corresponding accolades. I give all the kids pats on the back on a regular basis but apparently that's not enough for the twins. They get really huffy when they think they are being under appreciated. Honestly, I had enough of the brat mentality with Ricky and I'm just about to tell them what happened to him. Maybe a little reminder of the realities of our situation will help ... though their parents might not appreciate it too much.

The last couple is Jack and Teri. They are in their early 30s and their special needs son died when several of his medications became unavailable during the supply line break downs. Terry is unable to have any more children and was thrilled with the number of children in our group. There are very few unclaimed children in the Hale Hollow enclave and no young children at all in the Ehren Cutoff group. (I think they might be good parents for Sis and Bubby and I'm talking it over with Scott before mentioning it to anyone else. Both of those kids need a lot more one-on-one attention than we can give them right now.) Teri worked at her son's day care facility before he died and their world fell apart. Jack worked in construction during the housing boom; since then he's worked a variety of jobs but had yet to find anything permanent.

Scott and David welcomed the addition of Jerry and Jack and think that with additional hands and experience they can halve the time they are spending on repair and maintenance and get everything hardened down for the cooler weather that should be heading out way soon. We don't get as cold as north Florida and beyond does but even getting down into the 50s at night and still being damp is a good recipe for colds and worse.

We now have forty-one people in Sanctuary. We are very close to reaching our pre-chosen 50-person limit. As it is I'm going to have to drastically enlarge the garden for next month's plantings. Even with all of the stuff that was found in the Vandervort house and all the stuff we've been gathering over the past month or so, we are going to be hard pressed to keep up if our group grows any more.

I'm going to try and catch up more tomorrow as it is supposed to be a "day of rest"; hopefully my arm won't be so sore either. Today is Saturday which means it is baking day. I really caught myself a good one when I banged into a hot Dutch Oven I had sat on the counter. It blistered up almost immediately and Rachel says that I'm going to have to watch for infection for the next few days. Thank goodness for burn cream, gauze, and ibuprofen. I just hope I can ignore the thumping enough so I can get some sleep.


	56. Day Eighty-Three

**Day 83**

The cost of a non-electric grain mill pre-NRS - $60.00. The cost of a one-year supply of shelf stable survival food for one person pre-NRS - $2500.00. The cost of a "day of rest" post-NRS – priceless; whether that is a good thing or not I haven't decided.

I only did basic chores today. Cooked, checked over my plants, took a very short turn on guard duty, that sort of thing; nothing major. I pretty much enjoyed it; or did until I found I had time to think. Scott … I think it gave us both too much time to think. He mentioned the rental properties for the first time in a long time. He worried over our finances, despite the bad news we've heard there is still a possibility that we'll still be held accountable for our lives as they once were. We worried about the possible legal ramifications of everything that we are doing and that has happened in the recent past. We've been in survival mode for so long that when we did have the opportunity to stop or slow down, all the thoughts we've held at bay up to that point came crashing in. What happens in the long run? Do we start from where we left off or are we back to square one or even less? What kind of future can we give our kids? The far future scares me as much as the short term future does … maybe even more than the zombies do.

I've tried really hard to manage my thoughts. Not to get too angry. Not to get too sad. Not to get over excited. Not to get too disappointed. It doesn't always work. I'm not even sure at this point if it's healthy. David, Rose, James, Sarah, Bekah, Bubby, Johnnie, Sis, Kitty … so many to be responsible for. Yeah, I know nearly half of the kids aren't ours biologically. And yeah, I know David is an adult and Rose and James might as well be, but it doesn't change the fact that in my mind and heart they are all now my children.

Scott and I talked. We don't know what to do about Sis and Bubby. On the surface it would be selfish to deny them the opportunity of finding a home with Jack and Trish. But I've been watching over them since we first came together as a group. They call me Momma Sissy like nearly all the kids in Sanctuary do. Heck, even Cease calls me that. Sometimes they forget and just call me Momma like my biological children. Scott is Poppa Scott. Oh Lord, how could I ever just give them to someone else?! I know I have to do what is best for them; I just don't know if I want to know what that is because once I do, I have to make decisions.

There have been so many thoughts chasing me around today. Scott too I think. He's been angry and distant, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders and he's plenty upset about it. It's made me feel even more cut off and alone not being able to get close to him. I want so badly to get some comfort from him but that isn't happening right now. I don't know if he has any to offer anyway. I'd like to comfort him, but I don't know how to do that either.

I know I need to be stronger but what happens when you realize strength may not be enough? I'm not even getting a dial tone on my cell any longer. It made Scott angry today – angrier – when he saw me cranking it again. He wanted to know if I didn't feel enough grief without continuing to expect a miracle. Just admitting that it would be a miracle for my parents to still be OK is almost more than I can bear.

I feel so stuck in this twilight zone of grief and misery. I know there are things to be grateful for and appreciate; certainly the children fall in that category. But thoughts of the children lead me back to thoughts of the future; our future. Do we even have a future? If so, how do we measure it? In hours, days, years? What is the likelihood that we'll see our children grow up? Not just grow up, but grow up and into a better life than we have right now?

Thank God for this journal and my memory book because I can't talk to anyone else about my feelings. No one else seems to be suffering the same way or at least they aren't showing it. And if they are their wounds make mine seem petty. Josephine has lost every member of her family before her very eyes … and in ways more gruesome than I can write. Jack and Teri lost their precious boy through no fault of their own to something that never should have happened after doing everything and more that they could. Everyone has lost someone. Why do they seem to be handling things better? To be honest, today the only one in Sanctuary that I seem to be able to identify with is Patricia. Is that dysfunctional or what?!

I guess I need to write down some of the details from the last few days as I promised but I just feel so scattered. It's been a while since I really had time to sit down and think as opposed to always planning and reacting when those plans blow up in my face in some way. I thought the extra time would be wonderful but it hasn't felt good at all. But … I guess it has to be done. I can't keep putting off dealing with stuff or one of these days those feelings are gonna blow up in my face. Or I'll have a heart attack or stroke which would leave my family with the task of sanitizing me. I'd rather go out in the grove and take care of myself if it ever came to that, coward's way out or not. I dread asking my family to take on that responsibility on top of everything else.

I guess to try and get myself back on track I'll share a few concrete details we've learned. We now know for sure that there are six survivors' enclaves of some size in our general area. Luckily we are far enough apart that we haven't overlapped our territories yet. When that happens, and it inevitably will, I'm not sure what the result will be.

First is Hale Hollow. Their compound is off of Hale Road and named for the subdivision that it started in. They number close to 200 people, mostly adults. They started as a loose affiliation of families in an upscale, gated community and have an elected leader named is Nick Garcia. Each family group and individual in Hale Hollow is expected to donate time in the community's gardens, go on gathering runs, and help with security. That's the basics. Individual families though are also expected to provide themselves with extras and strive for a better position within the community. That last part has already caused problems and a schism … with another on the way from the sound of things. It's not necessarily a bad thing but it's caused some contretemps when it became too competitive.

The Ehren Cutoff Enclave doesn't have a name really … can't decide on one. It's primarily made up of the group that broke away from Hale Hollow. Their group's number fluctuates between 30 and 70 people. They have suffered two serious zombie attacks and lost their original leader before finally taking up residence in a church. They operate commune style but with a strict, authoritarian leadership which sounds like a really odd combination to me. The new leader … Brother Jeremiah? That's none other than former Inspector Jeremiah Lawrence. Matlock got a good look at him and he is physically much changed. He is gaunt and pale and all of his hair has turned gray; he is also growing a beard which is a sharp contrast to his previous neat-as-a-pin persona. His eyes are piercing and he has an odd charisma that his group members seem to dote on. Cease, who stayed out of "Bro. Jeremiah's" direct line of sight, said the man still gave him the willies. Jerry was not as circumspect and said he was flat out crazy and claimed to have had some kind of religious conversion in an internment camp; problem was it didn't sound like any religion Jerry had ever heard of. "Muriel and I just aren't cult material, not even for safety's sake. 'Sides," he continued. "He seems to like his followers young and dumb or traumatized and grateful and as bad as things are we don't fit the profile."

The third group we know of, but haven't had too many direct dealings with yet is the Driscolls. McElroy and David had taken a jeep and headed south on Florida Avenue to scout out some likely targets for the next Gathering Run when they spotted a van with a flat tire and three men trying to change it. The other guys seemed to be a lot quicker about pulling the trigger until David recognized Mr. Driscoll Sr.'s grandson and called him by name. Amazingly enough their group hasn't lost anyone but that's because they stay locked up tight 99% of the time. Rioting was bad and they took some damage from that early on but nothing debilitating. They've also made it through two significant sieges, both of which were broken when zombie hordes decimated the attempting invaders. When asked why there were so far away from their compound David was told, after a brief hesitation, that the group's food wasn't lasting as long as they had expected. They are going to try and create a roof top garden system but that takes supplies they didn't stock.

The fourth group is the MacDill enclave. They gave very little information out about their strength and numbers when Dixon finally decided to make contact. They refused to say much at all until a "Colonel Martin" came on the radio. Cease immediately recognized one of his former commander's voice and the codes that he was using as the Major Martin who had saved him from being taken away after the zombie attack. MacDill is a very tight lipped group but they were willing to share some important and shocking news.

China, as well as the rest of Asia, has fallen completely. The sheer numbers of zombies in that area overwhelmed all of the infrastructure and everyone's armies. The last satellite images from that part of the world showed no electric lights – none – though it did show several huge fires burning in Beijing, New Dehli, Kabul, Islamabad, Bangkok, and Moscow. Very few radio broadcasts are heard from there either. One from Hong Kong claims to be a group of college students. Another one claiming to be headquartered in Taiwan claims to be the Chinese Communist Party. There is another in St. Petersburg that was broadcasting fairly regularly until recently. Japan is completely silent since a large earthquake rocked Tokyo.

The UK, nearly overrun, now appears to be holding their own; but the whereabouts of the royal family and many major players in their government is unknown. The UK's problem will be rebuilding infrastructure not dependent upon imports. They are also running into problems of providing their people with enough food until their next major growing season. This won't be easy because of their need to severely ration their diesel supply.

Here in the USA quarantining by state line failed. Zombies do not recognize arbitrary political lines. However, physical boundaries do slow them down. After Florida fell shortages, rioting, and assorted other forms of civil unrest disrupted government efforts to control NRS. Sectors have now been set up that allow military and civilian forces to mitigate zombie incursions by using natural barriers such as rivers, mountain ranges, etc. It's not a fool-proof system but it is working slightly better than what they had before.

The US government still governs but from an undisclosed location where they try and coordinate major movements of military personnel and equipment. They also track survivor groups. The key is they track; they cannot offer any tangible aid. There have also been some large corporate locations that have been claimed and militarized in the name of various groups. One big example of this is Greenpeace has taken over several large buildings in Vancouver, Canada but that regularly makes incursions into Washing State. Another example is the Googleplex in Mountain View, California that has been taken over by former employees and their families. Communications with such groups is not always easy as their leadership changes frequently. MacDill has also heard rumors that the UN complex has been taken over but there has been no official confirmation of this.

Locally, enclaves five and six are small; one operating in Plant City and the other in Lakeland. There are other groups out there but these are the six that appear to be the most organized at this time and use broadcast radio with enough oomph that we can hear them.

I'm shaky and I need to get to bed. Suffice it to say that I may have gotten some physical rest today but I'm suffering my fair share of mental exhaustion now that I've taken the time to slow down enough to think. Don't know if I want to do that again real soon. Tomorrow its back to the mind numbing bliss of physical labor. Thank goodness.


	57. Day Eighty-Six

**Day 86**

Today was Water Day. You wouldn't think that would be a lot of work but for a group our size it is.

We've been going around to the various houses in the neighborhood with pools or spas and gathering water from them. We've also gotten all of the trash cans that are water-tight and put them under gutter spouts in and outside Sanctuary; after cleaning and sterilizing them of course.

Every Wednesday, or after a rain, we go around with a wagon attached to our golf cart. In the wagon is a 50-gallon barrel that is securely tied down in case we have to make a fast getaway or sharp turn. Don't laugh future reader, a cart still manages to out run most zombies assuming the cart isn't overloaded.

The barrels and containers that we've set out have their openings covered with screen. We get the screen from window screens or we've cut porch or lanai screens to use. Pool screens we've left alone to help keep debris and bugs out of the pools we are drawing from. We screen the water a second time when we collect it into the barrel on the wagon.

We screen the water a third time when it is emptied from the collecting barrel into the settling barrels. Then we add a little bit powdered alum – yep, the same stuff you use for pickling and we've grabbed all we could find in the area – to the cloudy water. That settles all of the smallest particles to the bottom of the container into a kind of sludge. We siphon from the top and then I use the bottom that is all sludge-y on the garden or something.

After the water has clarified we siphon it off from the top and then add bleach to it to make it "potable." Once the water sits for a bit to allow the bleach to do its job the water can go one of two places. We either put the water into the barrel reserved for showers, washing dishes, etc. or we run it through yet another filter to make it fit for drinking water. I have to tell you, by the time we get finished processing the water, it is probably safer to drink than what used to come out the municipal system. When we run out of powdered alum, and we inevitably will, we'll try and build a sand filter from some designs I printed off the computer what feels like a million years ago. That's some work though and will have to wait for another day.

We got extremely, extremely lucky and found a bunch of camping and back country filters at the Boy Scout Store that is off of Fletcher Avenue. The front area had been trashed by looters but none of the back areas where the Council officers and storage rooms were got touched as they were behind heavy duty security doors. That's not the only things we picked up form there but it's about the only thing pertinent to this discussion. Dante' hasn't gotten around to logging in all of the equipment and merit badge books we brought back, though I've already put one copy of each book in the Sanctuary library (one of the "old" houses in our compound area).

Another place we got lucky was the Harbor Freight Store. They had almost a dozen solar panels and a lot of inverters and stuff. That's definitely helped to keep batteries charged for the golf cart, radio shack, tools, etc.

Something I'm NOT happy about is that they keep delaying figuring out how to get our well hooked up to solar. Patricia informed me it was because it would be "unfair" to do it for our family until they could figure out a way to do it for everyone. It's not like I don't get the concept but if that is really the reasoning I think someone is being an ass. Scott and I have willingly shared our home and everything else. Why would they think a well would be any different? If I think on it too much its sorta hurts my feelings. Besides, our house is still the most fortified and is the ultimate fallback position for everyone in Sanctuary. I'm just missing the logic in that "unfair" argument.

All the other work in Sanctuary is going apace as well. The new wall is nearly finished. There weren't quite enough steel storage containers at that warehouse as we needed. We found a few more behind Big Lots and a couple behind the burned out Walmart on Dale Mabry. Scott estimates we need about five more to make a complete circuit of the new area. After that they'll tear apart the old Wall and stack the Pod storage container on top of the new Wall to make it sixteen feet high in the most vulnerable areas and hook everything in to the few section where we still have no choice but to use fencing. We've been able to really cut our need for fencing.

The one vulnerable spot that remains is the Lowland Terrain. We replaced some of the fencing with steel storage boxes, but there is still one section of ground that isn't stable enough. There we left the fence but added sand bags to create a different kind of wall. There isn't much choice but Scott and I have warned of potential drainage problems as a result. The Lowland Terrain catches the rain runoff from the neighborhood and funnels a lot of it into the canal system. I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it; right now zombies are a bigger, more immediate concern. Violent gangs aren't too far behind that.

The talk of zombies and water reminds me of how we lost one of the pools we were drawing from. Even though the pools are screened in … at least the best ones are … without circulation they are still growing algae. We've mitigated some of that by using algaecides and by keeping floating chlorinators full of tabs in each location. What would help is if we could actually circulate the water as well to evenly distribute the chemicals.

The run to Harbor Freight provided a potential solution to this. There were these solar-powered, floating water fountains; the kind you normally see in lakes and ponds. They are 24 inch disks and pretty low maintenance so long as the water doesn't have too much debris in it. We experimented with this by putting them in the three pools inside our compound and in a pool outside the compound that we were having a hard time keeping clear.

What we seemed to have totally missed was the SOUND issue. The sound of the fountain in an otherwise quiet area drew zombies. Boy did it draw zombies. They walked right through the patio screens and into the pool. Oh my good brown gravy. Think of decaying and bloated bodies in a pool after a few days. A lot of bloated and decaying bodies. Still makes me gag thinking about it.

I don't know how many zombies eventually fell in before the fountain finally capsized and shut off. The smell and appearance was so bad none of us could go near it without puking. We finally dug out Scott's two heavy-duty painters' masks. They always put me in mind of the gas masks of WWI or those asbestos masks you see on rehabbers some times. They really filter odors though and he even used them once when he had to deal with a badly mouse infested attic space.

After trying to do our best it was decided that there wasn't anything that could be salvaged. They poured some of our precious fuel on top of everything and then tossed in a match. It was a dangerous solution but we had no other way of dealing with such a toxic mess. Luckily it was a smallish pool and the house didn't catch fire. We had to chase down some melting screen that floated away but it was quickly done and fire extinguishers took care of everything else. The fire drew a few NRS zombies but far fewer than we had been prepared to deal with. The train wreck and subsequent wildfire has decimated the zombie population, at least temporarily.

We're only a week away from the end of October but we've decided to put off any Autumn festivities until closer to the end of November. We just have too much to do for now.

Scott and I still aren't talking much. I mean we talk, just not about personal stuff. We don't fell "close." I don't know what it is. We didn't have an argument or anything per se. Maybe it's just my imagination. Maybe he's still upset that I checked the phone one last time. Maybe it's something else. I guess I'll give it a little more time before poking it and seeing what's up. I just can't build up any enthusiasm for an argument even if there is some good making up afterwards.

I'm glad we decided against being so quick to offer Sis and Bubby up. Teri isn't doing well. There was a huge blow up yesterday. She's having withdrawals. She was on pain medication for a shoulder injury a couple of years pre-NRS and got addicted to the meds. She played Rachel and Waleski until they did an inventory and compared notes. Her husband was furious and embarrassed. He explained that she was heading for rehab before NRS got bad. We aren't sure what to do now. Hopefully she can kick the habit for good this time.

And in other not good relationship news, it's getting really obvious that Dixon and Patricia are having problems as well. I've seen Rachel and Dixon "talking" a few times but didn't pay much attention to it. This time they were doing something a little more intimate than talking. They didn't notice me until I cleared my throat. We all just kind of looked at each other. At least now I know why Rachel wasn't interested in any of the single men.

I explained that I didn't consider it any of my business so long as it doesn't cause a problem for the rest of us but on the flip side I wasn't going to aid and abet them either. They relaxed a little but then I knew it was then or never. I mentioned the "symptoms" that Samuel had enumerated to me. Dixon, maybe because he was a guy or because he just didn't want to see it, totally missed the point. He again said she was under a lot of stress and that he and Rachel were hold off in his words "exploring their attraction further" until Patricia had stabilized more.

Rachel on the other hand, for whatever reason, got it the first time. She whispered, "Oh my God, she's pregnant."

Dixon said, "Can't be. We haven't slept together in months and she'd be showing by now."

I just looked at Rachel. Despite being horrified by the situation she gave me a look back that said she wasn't in love with him because he was a brain surgeon. Then she led Dixon away to explain that if Patricia was pregnant it was a result of the rape.

Talk about a love triangle that has disaster spray painted across it in neon orange. I can't imagine something that could be much more like a soap opera. And what Patricia's reaction is going to be if she really is pregnant remains to be seen.


	58. Day Eighty-Nine

**Day 89**

My how quickly things change. We've had a bit of problem with zombies the last couple of days. I don't know where they are coming from. I had thought the Big Fire had really thinned out the herd so to speak. I'm beginning to wonder if they "hear" or sense the radio waves. Though I'm not sure that's the answer either because they don't sense the bats' radar; it doesn't seem to affect them. Or maybe we're too complacent about the noise we make inside Sanctuary.

McElroy is trying to build a remote control device that could be used as a diversion, as a way of drawing zombies into a trap where they could be appropriately disposed of. It would have to be extremely simple, zombies to lose their muscle tone very quickly due to decay. They don't seem to have a sense of smell or touch either and probably no taste. The surfaces like skin, tongue, and sinus cavity are the first to decay. Also, the lack of touch is connected to the lack of pain. Eyesight also begins to go. Hearing however gets refined for some reason unless there was a physical deficit to begin with. We've actually seen deaf zombies and they are some of the easiest to avoid, though there isn't anything such as non-dangerous zombie.

We've designed several potential zombie traps but none of them have made it off paper yet. One is to take a steel storage container, put something inside that makes noise (the lure), and then when we have captured as many zombies as possible, close the box and drop in a concussion or incendiary device. Another is like a pit trap. They fall in but can't get out … like what happened with the swimming pool. Any traps more complicated than that and we begin to run into zombies' lack of dexterity, clumsiness, etc.

We aren't the only ones wondering where all the new zombies are coming from. They are all over according to chatter on the radio. MacDill gave us a possible reason for some of them. Several "death barges" ran ashore along the east coast of Florida. Apparently in a practice that sought to make the zombies someone else's problem, some countries loaded both sanitized and non-sanitized corpses onto barges, towed them out into the shipping lanes, and then cut them loose.

I remember the theory was that eventually the ships would sink or they would find a cure for NRS and then be able to "rescue" those on the barges. Idiots. These barges are beginning to wash ashore around the world. Super idiots. We have enough home grown NRS zombies, we don't need to deal with imports! That can't account for all of the zombies but that's all we've got for now.

We've had to pull back into Sanctuary and our expansion plans are being hampered. We only need three more shipping containers to finish the first level of the wall but three might as well be three hundred at this point. Zombies are being caught between the outer and inner walls, making them easy to sanitize but leaving a mess that has to be cleaned up. That first septic tank is full and we are now working on the third.

Today has been Baking Day and boy have I been baking. I baked several loaves of bread in the solar ovens we've cobbled together. I baked cookies in a reflector oven set ner the fire I was using to heat wash water. I started a new batch of Herman Starter and Friendship Starter. I also fried some doughnuts, made some pretzels and crackers, and baked some pies. Believe it or not on top of all of that I usually make biscuits, hushpuppies, and cornbread at least once a week as well. Keep the troops fed is no small task. Storing that bread hasn't been easy either. Scott, David, and James made me a really large pie keep and it now sits where my refrigerator used to sit in the kitchen.

Forty-One people. Forty-One. Nearly three and a half dozen. Muriel and Trish are real workers and I'm grateful for the additional help in the garden and with the other chores. I know the men are glad to have Jerry, Hank, and Jack. Hank and Dante' have developed a good working relationship. Dante' handles all of the non-food supplies and Hank, the former grocery store manager, now handles the food supplies. Our food stores are much better organized and it's much easier to create menus and figure out how far the stores will last.

Brandon, Hank's son, finally found his niche and without anyone's help. He is as close to a librarian as we are likely to get any time soon. The kid actually has a fantastic memory. And when he isn't arranging and cataloging the books and materials we already have he's on gathering runs helping to locate usable bookcases, filing cabinets, and additional useful books and materials. One day Scott and I were worried about him modeling poor behavior for the other kids and the next day he turned into the energizer bunny and he has to be reminded to take breaks and to eat. You just never know.

This is in sharp contrast to his step-siblings Marty and Maddie. If I've ever met bigger whiners I don't recall. Even Ricky's voice wasn't as bad. Trish has started losing patience with them, but it was at dinner last night they finally got on Scott's last nerve. He asked them if they wanted to leave Sanctuary. At first there was this hugely quiet lull in conversation then the twins said they did in a real snotty voice. He then asked them where they wanted to go and how they expected to get there.

It started out with the twins thinking they knew everything and had all the answers. As Scott started shooting holes in all of their plans and point out the fallacies in their answers he kept asking them new questions. Other people joined in; Matlock, Junie, McElroy, and others. Hank and Trish wouldn't let the kids draw them in and refused to let them run from their losing argument. The twins at first enjoyed finding themselves the center of attention. By end of the meal they couldn't escape fast enough. They haven't been quite so ready with their all-knowing answers today and Matlock has had them on guard-duty as well. Nothing like zombies to slap you in the face with reality.

Teri is in the midst of withdrawal. Between her and Patricia we are in need of some heavy duty mental health assistance. For twenty-four hours Patricia did nothing but scream and/or cry. Seriously. Dixon had to physically restrain her a number of times and she couldn't be left alone for a second. Waleski and Rachel put her on suicide watch. Temporarily Samuel has moved in with use while Patricia is being held in the hospital. Poor kid is scared to death and Scott and I had the uncomfortable task of making sure he understood and uh … mechanics … of everything. He may be 14 years old but he was still not clear on some things. Of course the situation has meant giving all the kids old enough to ask questions a bit of a sex ed lesson. There goes a little more innocence from their lives … and ours.

I really hope that Dixon and Rachel exhibit a lot of self-restraint. I know that technically Dix and Patricia were not legally wed but they've been operating as a couple since we began Sanctuary. And in Patricia's current state of mind I can see some horrible things happening. Even though I may not understand it at all, to me it falls under the thing of "dancing with the one who brung you." I know people and relationships can change but ending a relationship, partnership, contract, marriage or however you want to categorize a commitment should be mutual and respectful. I guess I'm a prude but Rachel and Dixon's actions have really upset me. I haven't even told Scott.

Strangely the only one Patricia doesn't behave savagely with is me. I haven't the foggiest idea why. But at least she lets me feed her and bathe her. I even did her hair and she didn't give me a hard time. I can't be with her 24/7 because of all my work and having Kitty around makes her upset. That leaves Rachel. I'm very grateful that at least Rachel behaves in a professional manner despite what must be her own inner turmoil. Patricia definitely needs more care than any one single person can give her.

So far I don't think Patricia … anyone … suspects anything other than a professional relationship between Dixon and Rachel. I hope it stays that way. It makes me uncomfortable being a secret-keeper for something like this but for now I think it best to keep my mouth shut.


	59. Day 91

**Day 91**

Long day. Looooonnnnngggg day. Laundry days always are but this one has felt particularly long.

Teri has had some kind of seizure, possibly in response to her withdrawals. She remains in our hospital though at this point what anyone can do is unknown. She's conscious but not responsive in a normal way. Jack is depressingly resigned. He suspected Teri's addictions would eventually get the better of her. He may have suspected it but is anyone ever really prepared to face the reality of that kind of thing happening? I can't imagine being in that position with someone I love. I'll admit to being relieved that their adoption of Sis and Bubby is now out of the question; but I'm not gloating. Teri and Jack are in a horrible place right now and I feel really sorry for both of them; doesn't mean I agree with the choices Teri has made, but I do sympathize.

Patricia is a little better thank goodness. I continue to be able to get her to eat and she at least seems ready to accept the pregnancy as fact if not the baby itself as "alive" and real. She is about nine weeks pregnant according to the calculations; that's the very beginning of the third month or the last third of the first trimester depending on how you want to look at it. Rachel, who did a rotation in OB/gyn during her medical training, has definitely confirmed the diagnosis. We have a few months to come up with Rachel's list of "must have" equipment for the birthing room. If the baby comes any earlier than that there is simply no chance for its survival. My understanding is Patricia had a rough pregnancy with Samuel and nearly lost him several times and that he as about six weeks premature; her failure to be at all attached to this pregnancy may be partially explained by fear that she will lose it. We'll have to watch her closely for both physical and mental reasons. Talk about irony though; this situation will test the love triangle members. Rachel has to be a medical professional as well as "the other woman." Dixon has to do what's best for Sanctuary before personal desires and really grow as a leader. Patricia … she has a whole slew of issues she is going to have to deal with.

But all of that personal stuff aside, our day-to-day routine must still be maintained.

We added another couple hundred feet of clothes line today. We needed it. Adding three families who need to be outfitted with new wardrobes means extra laundry for a couple of Wash Days. And now we are gathering all of the baby clothes we can find. Kitty is growing out of all of the newborn stuff and is into the next size up. It's supposed to be the 3 to 6 months sizes but little girl is finally beginning to fill out and there are several 6 to 9 months outfits that fit her. I've put aside the stuff she has outgrown just in case Patricia needs it for her baby. We also have gathered up a couple of high chairs, cradles, baby beds, play pens, etc. and put them in storage. Nine will get you ten that Patricia's pregnancy isn't the last ... maybe not in the short run, but surely long term there will be more babies come along.

As for storage, as we pull the original Wall apart and reconfigure Sanctuary, we are finally getting a chance to go through them. Dante' and Hank are assigning the large steel storage containers specific contents. For instance, the majority of the "new" storage containers have openings on their side and not just at their rear. We position the container so that the door faces into Sanctuary. In one container we are putting men's clothing size small, another is size medium, and another container holds large. We plan another container for XL and above sizes but we don't have enough to justify a whole container yet. Women's clothing is a little more complicated but we have a system worked out so that it's easier to find something when needed. We have three containers for shoes; children's, women's, and men's. Then we have an entire container for undergarments organized in plastic bins and another steel storage containers for accessories like belts, suspenders, hats, scarves, gloves, and so on and so forth.

Then we have the containers that divide up the non-food storage items: office supplies, small furniture, personal hygiene, cleaners and detergents, pool chemicals, gardening tools, assorted camping gear, soil amendments and fertilizers and bug sprays, dishes and other utensils, and just about everything else under the sun.

Our food supplies we are currently trying to keep in the two "storage houses" because there is better light to see and organize by, though Scott and David did finally manage to figure out a way to install steel shutters across the windows and a way to reinforce all of the doors, all of which are kept closed at night and when the storage houses aren't in use.

Yesterday was our family's scheduled Day of Rest. We decided to spend it with the kids and it was good. Scott taught Johnnie and Bubby how to ride a two-wheeler. He found this really small bike that even their little four-year-old legs could operate. Sis was happy to have all of Bekah and Sarah's attention to herself and they made clothes for her Barbie out of scraps of yarn, thread, and clothes that weren't really salvageable for storage. James, David, and Rose did their things and just kind of hung out and talked when they weren't working on their own small personal projects.

Scott and I are doing a little better. I'm glad I didn't make a huge issue of it. Life is just weighing us down. We may have been walking through one of the valleys that every marriage goes though on occasion. We're still stressed out but at least the distance between us is decreasing. Who would have thought it would take zombies to help me get a better understanding of the wisdom of practicing patience?

The zombies have fallen again in numbers. I don't understand the reasons. I guess they just keep walking until they run into something that catches their attention. It's strange and illogical. I just don't get it. I wonder if we'll ever understand what makes them tick.

The weather is about to give us our first cold snap I think. It's too early for a frost of any kind but it's definitely going to be cool in the morning; maybe even down into the low 50s or high 40s. I didn't notice at first because the laundry fires kept me hot. Then I just thought I was chilled from getting damp from the hanging the wet clothes to dry. But, when Rose brought me a flannel shirt to wear and a blanket for Kitty in her backpack, I realized everyone was feeling the change in the weather.

The wind picked up as the day went along. That was great for the laundry, which dried quickly, but it meant the food I put into the solar cookers took longer to get done. Dinner was later than usual and I had to deal with a few people who didn't understand why. That's a polite way of saying that I had to deal with some unreasonable complaining which I did my best not to snap back that they were welcome to cook the next few meals if they thought they could do it better. Luckily dinner's main ingredient was the beans I had going in my covered cooking pit. For lunch I fixed corn dodgers in the reflector oven next to the fire we used to boil water and we also had tuna salad stuffed tomatoes. It was a good lunch but I ate too fast and got indigestion that's still hanging around keeping me awake. I need to requisition some Rolaids tomorrow from Waleski. I knew I should have kept that big bottle I found, but we are supposed to funnel everything through Dante' so that it gets inventoried. Maybe the way they do it up at Hale Hollow isn't all-bad after all.

We are going to move the goats as soon as their new pen is built. We are putting them in the empty lot next to the Victorian where Dixon now lives. Samuel and Sarah love taking care of the goats. Those two are also responsible for the chickens, the dogs, and the cats. And … the sow and her piglets.

Yep. We traded some tractor parts from our end of town with the Hale Hollow enclave. In return we got this big fat hog. We had no idea that she was pregnant … betcha they didn't either or they wouldn't have chosen to trade her. They even said that it was a boar rather than a sow. What the heck? I didn't think to really look at its nether parts because it was so late in the day. When Matlock brought it into the compound everyone was in – excuse the pun – hog heaven. The next day Sarah comes crying to me that she thought "Henry Hog" was sick. I ran over there to find Cease trying really, really hard not to laugh. It seems that Henry was a Henrietta and she was in the process of having a litter. When she finished, we had a healthy and much more comfortable sow and ten little piglets. Cease said that the male piglets need to be castrated in about two or three weeks and he will teach the kids all his grandparents taught him about raising pigs. We are hoping to trade for a boar in a few weeks and the kids have volunteered to build the adjoining hog pens near the goats.

We need to make one last run to the Feed Depot but this time we are going to have to take trash cans as the only thing left is the bulk feed. I foresee a rodent problem. We already are seeing more and more varmints in the vacant houses around us. But our cat … we named her Lucky … has been sharing her hunts we us. I swear, who would have thought a cat's generosity could be so embarrassing? She leaves me several little gifts a day. Ick. We haven't had to feed her or the kittens since their arrival. She just comes around for the attention and a daily brushing. The kittens are even more tame, but I'm still careful of Cat Scratch Fever. Given how far Lucky roams we are going to have one of two problems shortly. Either she is going to get killed or she is going to wind up pregnant again. The felines may yet inherit the earth at the rate they procreate and they'll have no shortage of food if the rodent population continues to boom like it has.

James has begun teaching the younger kids how to use slingshots to help with pest control. Unlike guns, ammunition for this weapon is as close as someone's graveled walkway. Neither Samuel nor Sarah wanted to use the slingshots at first; they wanted to "catch and release" pesky animals. That was until James explained to them the diseases rats and mice could cause and that the food the rodents ate would be all that much less they would have for the farm animals. Now those two are nearly as good as James. Bo, Tom, Bekah, and Brandon aren't far behind. Brandon saw a mouse in the library and went berserk. He went on a gathering run and has set traps and poison all over the place. He has also removed all the carpeting from that house and got it as "rodent proof" as he can for now; expanding foam insulation and steel wool in all of the potential nooks and crannies that the mice can enter though, caulking everywhere else to prevent ants and other bugs from entering.

That Brandon is a hoot. His Dad wasn't sure how long his interest in the library would last but what he has accomplished thus far has blown me away. He's talking about eventually replacing the bookcases with floor to ceiling shelving that he will build himself as soon as he can gather enough material. He's got each room labeled for a different subject. The smallest bedroom he has turned into an apartment and I guess he figures to eventually receive permission to live there permanently. He has turned another room into an audio-visual room; he's collecting CDs and DVDs and hopes to eventually figure out a solar hook up that will operate a TV and Stereo system. He has to sound-proof that room first though and all of the solar panels are currently in use.

Speaking of chores, our least liked chore here in Sanctuary – aside from zombie remains clean up – is the humanure system. Last time the guys went out looking for steel storage containers they brought back several port-o-potties instead. Each house now has its own. On Fridays during Cleaning Day they get emptied (or as necessary) and taken to the manure piles on the far side of the orange grove. The animal pens get taken care of on the same day and there is a separate pile for that.

We had one time that the dogs wanted to roll around in all the muck … you can imagine how badly they smelled afterwards … so we've had to fence that area off.

The humanure piles don't smell any worse than any other compost piles I've been around but that isn't saying a whole lot. First you build a three sided bin. Then you scrap out a concave center so that any liquids are collected in the middle rather than run out. Then you put in an "organic sponge" layer of straw, hay, dried grass, or whatever you can collect. This first layer needs to be kinda thick. Next you put on a layer of green stuff. I use green weeds that I've pulled out of the garden for this. Then you can put about three five-gallon buckets worth of human manure that's been mixed with sawdust to absorb the odor and liquids. Next you'll add a cover of more dried straw, hay, or whatever. As you go up, you add slats on the fourth side of the pen. You keep building this up for about a year. Then you have to let it rest and work for another year and then the pile will be finished compost and ready for working into the garden.

I know that is a long time, about a year longer than non-human manure piles and other types of compost, but that's just the way things work. We have a humanure pile started for each occupied dwelling and whoever is living in the dwelling is responsible for that particular pile. So far so good; everyone is doing their share though some will grumble and complain when it is their turn to do the tending.

Tomorrow is the last day of October and the beginning of the fourth month of my journal. I went back and read a couple of the early entries but then had to stop. One day I'll be able to read this book with equanimity, but not right now when the beginning is still too fresh and painful.


	60. Day 94

**Day 94**

Man, productivity can be rewarding and tiring at the same time. Its November 2 and I'm sure this month will fly by given everything we have to do.

I've slowly bene using the golf cart to expand the garden. The kids groan every time they see me hook up the disk. Today I planted large areas of green stuff: broccoli, spinach, brussel sprouts, cabbage, Chinese cabbage, celery, collard green, kale, lettuce, mustard greens, parsley, Swiss Chard, and turnip greens. Throughout the rest of the week I hope to plant a bit of everything else.

I'm planting everything that I can in successive patches so not everything ripens at once. That's the problem I'm having now in the container plants and in the stuff I planted in our yard; everything of a type is ripening at the same time. For instance, all of the carrots are ripe. I like carrots. Actually I love carrots; but not three times a day for days on end. The only way to deal with the abundance is to eat them fresh as quick as we can to prevent spoilage or find some way to preserve them.

For carrots there are four basic methods of preservation: over wintering in a root cellar or underground pit, drying, freezing, canning. Florida's weather and water table make over-wintering impractical and impossible as far as I understand it. Freezing isn't an option either because of insufficient power to keep a freezer running 24/7/365. That leaves drying and canning. Jerry is a dab hand at jury-rigging stuff up. He says it came from learning to make do while living full time in an RV. He's fixed me a solar dehydrator to use. Except for one problem with a raccoon it's worked wonderfully. The other preservation technique is canning and I've been doing some of that as well. I am grateful though to have the dehydrator; eventually we'll run out of seals for the jars. For me that will be a sad day; truly an end to the idea of convenience food.

Speaking of harvesting and preserving food, I've got a lot of different things I'm hoping to harvest in November. All of my trash cans and tire-beds of potatoes should be ready soon. The tops of the plants are beginning to die back. I've got a whole trellis of Armenian cucumbers that I haven't a clue what to do with yet. Armenian cucumbers aren't really cucumbers at all but are members of the melon family, but you don't use them like melons. Oh where is the Internet when I really need it?! I've already picked the first basket of pole beans and that's what we're having for dinner tonight – green beans with new potatoes boiled in the bean juice, corn muffins, dressed eggs courtesy of Mrs. Broody (that's deviled eggs for you Yankees), and sliced canned ham.

I'm going to hold onto the different varieties of winter squash that is coming in as long as I can but I'll likely have to cook and can them before December is over. Same with the pumpkins though I might let the kids carve on jack o' lantern for old time sake.

November will see the last of the fresh tomatoes. I'm not going to try and preserve any of them though I might make a couple pints of yellow tomato preserves or maybe a gallon of yellow tomato sauce. My bushes have given me more fruit than I could have hoped for. We have so many commercially canned tomato products that I bet we can go a whole year without any problems; still, I'll miss the fresh when they're gone.

The thought of one food issue leads to others. You know how there always seems to be foods that are abundant simply because no one wants to eat them? We have a huge pile of canned foods that I'm having to figure out what to do with them. I mean, what can I do with 50 cans of Hearts of Palms? What about case upon case of canned beets? We also have found a bunch of jars of those little, embryonic corn on the cobs and more cans of asparagus than I could ever imagine using even if I did like asparagus. Then there is the really strange stuff.

A couple of streets south west of us is this really ritzy gated community called Lake Magdalene. Those houses over there used to cost into the multi-millions … unfurnished and without upgrades. After gathering throughout that neighborhood you could come to the conclusion that either there were people around with more money than sense or that rich people were just plain strange. For instance, I could swear that a Teddy Roosevelt wannabe lived in this one house I went in. There were big game animal heads hung on walls … and I know some of them had to be illegal. There were weird furs and animals skins on the floor like rugs, and the furniture was covered in all these weird looking leathers. Upstairs was this safe room that held all sorts of memorabilia from hunting trips around the world. We didn't find a single gun in the place but we did find a lot of ammo that Dixon was happy to have. But that wasn't what was strange. What was … well … bizarre was the pantry in this house. It was huge and held some of the oddest food I've seen outside of some online places I used to look at just for kicks. How about canned meats like buffalo, elk, alligator, and rattlesnake? There were these cans of patties of buffalo, elk, venison, and ostrich. Then there were a couple of cases of exotic smoke sausages: antelope, duck, pheasant, kangaroo, rabbit, wild board, and others. Don't even get me started on the crate of different flavored jerkies that sat on the counter. The freezer would have been pretty impressive too had the power not been off long enough to turn it into a toxic mess. We did come away with some liqueurs and cooking wines that I thought would help make some good fruit cakes.

Another home housed what appeared to be an Asian family. There were lots of jars of pickled things: burdock, seaweed, scallions, cabbage, and radishes. There were fishcake sausage sticks and cellophane noodles. Lots of soy products and seasonings that I'd never heard of.

Yet another house held either a British family or someone who lived there was a real Anglophile. There were Heinz products that I had never seen before like spotted dick, treacle pudding, curry beans, and sticky pudding, jars of clotted cream and Devon cream. There was eleventy-dozen tins of shortbread and just as many tins of "biscuits." And there was enough tea to supply China for a couple of weeks, at least.

But even all of that pales in comparison to some of the other stuff we've found over the last couple of weeks. Some of the strangest include canned foie gras, burgundy escargot in these little jars, seafood pate in toothpaste tubes, canned baba ghanoush, canned stuffed grape leaves, and quail eggs. I have to say though that the two most bizarre food items we've found were a case of canned haggis and several bags of chocolate dipped pork rinds.

This whole going through people's houses has made me think. We all have to die at some point, but what do we leave behind us? I'm not talking about the philosophical or spiritual; that's more complicated than I want to think about right now. I'm talking about the literal, physical stuff we leave behind. The flotsam of the lives we lead day-to-day.

In houses all over this city private lives are being exposed; hobbies, interests, professions, and obsessions. In one house we found an amazing assortment of tools for making watches and jewelry. In another we found over a hundred pieces of fishing equipment hung neatly on the wall in one of the bedrooms. In one small house there wasn't a place you could look without seeing some type of Disney memorabilia. In yet another we found there must have been a person living there who had some form of OCD or mental illness because even the socks in the drawers were organized and sealed in plastic wrap and stored in Tupperware containers. Then there are the private lives and secrets. In the closet, out of the closet, and everything in between; porn, S&M, fetishes of every flavor, and some "marital aids" that were so complicated they required an owner's manual to operate.

It's so hard not to be embarrassed when going through people's drawers, files, and lives. It's made me even more careful about what I might be leaving behind for my kids to clean up. With the way things are going I might not have time to clean it up myself before I got.


	61. Day 95

**Day 95**

I fixed a really good breakfast this morning if I do say so myself. I've gotten several comments on it throughout the day. I made a Sweet Potato and Apple Bake using canned sweet potatoes and canned apples. Then I made cornmeal pancakes. It sure was good on a cool morning though things look to be warming back up … figuratively and literally.

It started out a really nice day and stayed that way weather-wise. But about mid-morning all the pleasure in the day pretty much evaporated.

Teri is up but looking really bad. For most of the day she sat in a chair out front of the hospital and soaking up some Vitamin D from the glorious sunlight we had. Today being Cleaning Day the children, or at least those not on guard duty, were helping clean their respective homes. Patricia, much improved and back living with Dixon, actually made a joke about how it wasn't fair since I had so many kids to help me. I had joked right back about lending her a couple with the kids mock groaning (I had promised them a little free time if they finished their chores for the day early) when McElroy signaled that we had people approaching.

Bo was the runner and came back with the info that it as a contingent from Ehren Cutoff. Contingent … no, it actually turned out to be a pilgrimage of sorts I guess. Jeremiah Lawrence arrived in full regalia – swiped from the church his group was currently living in I suppose – with several of his "disciples." Where before I had doubted the conversion he claimed, now I had no doubt he has been converted … to insanity. He was "preaching" in front of our front gates, the basic message being that they had rights to Sanctuary as it was the location of the beginning of his conversion. He stood outside of the front gates the remainder of the day preaching and prophesying that those of us in Sanctuary would fall if we didn't accept Brother Jeremiah as our one true and rightful leader.

Lawrence's voice was loud and carried quite far, drawing an inordinate number of zombies. We saw no choice. Were we supposed to let the poor lunatic and his followers get torn apart because they didn't have the sense to be quiet? While it would have solved a problem for us and been convenient to let the zombies take care of him, what kind of people would that have made us? But we weren't going to be stupid about it either. We didn't open the gates, but we sanitized the zombies as they came too close. Luckily no hordes were in the area.

Brother Jeremiah Lawrence, in his fevered outlook, turned our actions around as well to say, "Look, they know Me and who I am; some protect He who they know to be the rightful Inheritor of Sanctuary. They are the ones who came before to prepare a place for Me and I shall be merciful to those who become true believers. The others who oppose Me will reap the reward for blasphemy."

Since I had a pretty good idea what the "reward for blasphemy" likely was, I was tempted at that point to leave the wall and just go ahead and let the zombies have him after all. Unfortunately he had his twelve "disciples" with him and a couple of them were little more than children. I couldn't watch them get torn apart for the sins of Brother Jeremiah's lunacy. The good Brother's demands seemed endless; food, water, entrance, weapons, ammo, clothing, women for his unattached male followers, etc. We only kept the zombies at bay; we were afraid if we gave Lawrence's group anymore than that, if we gave them an inch, they would take a mile. Finally Brother Jeremiah and his disciples left a couple of hours before dark set in. Something tells me they aren't gone for good though. But the fact that they had the sense to leave before dark means that at least some small part of them still understands that they aren't invulnerable to the zombies, maybe there is hope for some of them if they can be deprogrammed.

Over a dinner of deep fried carrot fritters, new peas, and chicken casserole we discussed the progress of current projects, supplies we are in need of, and the potential threat posed by the Ehren Cutoff crazies.

I had known that many of our people here in Sanctuary didn't practice any organized religion but I hadn't realized just how anti-religion some of them are. Our family attended church regularly before the NRS plague made that impossible. We also do things like include religious and moral training with our kids' school lessons and at meal times we say Grace together before we eat. However we try and be careful not to impose our beliefs on the other group members or make any kind of spectacle of ourselves. We try to be sensitive to other people without compromising our own core beliefs and we really try hard not to appear like hypocrites. We are fully aware we aren't perfect. We don't make ourselves out to be somehow better than the others.

I guess our attempt at sensitivity led me to expect other members were behaving in the same way. Matlock surprised me by being rapidly opposed to organized religion. That set off a tiff between him and Becky who, while not "religious" strongly respected the rights of others to be so. Dante' and Tina were both from very pious families but had not attended church for years. The same was true for Cease. McElroy was a non-practicing Catholic from a strict upbringing and didn't understand our "casual" practice of our beliefs and therefore they hadn't even really registered apparently. Everyone else had their own take as well except for Teri who was a hard-care atheist and who proceeded to explain why we were all just as delusional as Brother Jeremiah.

The whole discussion about religion was deteriorating into a squabble when Patricia of all people stepped into the breach.

"Let's drop the 'how-we-choose-to-practice-what-we-believe' problem about whose right and who's wrong. That's what religion is, how we practice what we believe, and it seems every one of us chooses to practice our beliefs a little different. I think what we are seeing is more a matter of faith than religion anyway. We all have faith in different things and people, need to have faith of some type to keep going. Sometimes that meshes with our religion and obviously sometimes it does not which is why some of us don't practice an organized religion. Those people, the ones following Lawrence, have chosen to revere 'Brother Jeremiah' because they lost something important in this plague - what made them feel safe, secure, connected. They are trying to replace what was lost with faith in 'Brother Jeremiah.' The question should be do we think their faith in Lawrence is misplaced, if so then why, and how does this impact Sanctuary?"

A few folks kept trying to say that it was a matter of religion but most of us admitted that Patricia had a good point. It was more an issue of faith. Even those of us who chose not to practice an organized religion still had some core beliefs that we felt were non-negotiable. It was these core beliefs that prevented us from falling under whatever spell that Lawrence was able to weave. Jerry and Muriel restated that most of the people who chose to stay with the Ehren Cutoff enclave did so either out of fear of trying to find a new place to belong or because Lawrence's charisma and conversion struck a chord with them. Many were young, traumatized, and alone until Lawrence drew them into his fold.

Not much was accomplished beyond that we all agreed that we were going to have to be very careful when away from Sanctuary, more careful than we already were. If push came to shove we would have to use force, perhaps deadly force, to prevent any attempted take over or other hostile action. We did agree that Lawrence's conversion was real to him and that he was likely to put this belief in himself above everything else including the safety of his followers and normal commonsense. For now all we can do is take a wait-and-see attitude about that group. We have too many vulnerabilities to start a feud and we don't want to turn the Hale Hollow group – who still number some family in with the Ehren Cutoff group – against us since they are at least four times our size and a potential trading partner.

Teri, still not fully recovered from her withdrawal period and seizure, had to be given a sedative to calm her down. Something about the whole discussion of religion really disturbed her.

By the time the meal ran down our willingness to discuss Brother Jeremiah had also run down. So had daylight and the mosquitoes were coming out with a vengeance. We are rationing the mosquito repellent – one of our high demand items when we are out gathering – so that our night guards can continue to have enough. We need to be careful of any mosquito-born illnesses so I hustled the kids back onto the screened lanai and had them wash up for the night. The rest of us quickly packed up the remains of dinner, plated the leftovers for the nighttime guards, and turned the rest over to those on clean up detail

We've opted to skip daylight savings time this year so dark is setting in around 6:30 pm. All of the kids usually sit on our lanai and watch one movie or have a quiet game time or listen to a couple of chapters of whatever book we are studying. Usually those not on guard duty try and button up for the night between 9 and 9:30 pm. Comparatively that is "old folks' hours" by previous standards but given the fact that we are usually up before dawn every day, no one seems to mind t. The youngest of the kids are usually nodding off by 8 pm if not sooner, depending on how hard they've worked and played during the day.

Tonight I made popcorn for those that wanted it and had just sat down to work on menus when Patricia asked if I would take a walk with her. Not sure what it was about I said yes because I figured if nothing else I owed her for the way we had started off in the beginning.

First, she wanted to talk about Teri of all things. I think seeing how Teri is acting is make her very self-conscious. I reassured her and said that Teri's choice and the consequences for them is nothing like what she went through. Teri made a choice to continue exploiting her addiction, she had no choice about the trauma she had experienced at the hands of the gang. And while I admit she has had a few setbacks she is at least trying in a way that Teri doesn't appear to be. I think that set her mind at rest some, but if I had to find something good about Teri's behavior, at least it is making Patricia think and way alternative options.

Next she blew me away by saying that she knew about Rachel and Dixon and knew that I knew. She said she had seen how I was avoiding them lately and how uncomfortable a couple of things said at table tonight about faithfulness, etc. had made me.

She laughed, "You're a terrible liar. You would have been eaten alive in the world I used to live in."

I asked, "Good thing or bad thing?"

"Good thing these days I guess but you might want to leave the trade agreements to me."

We both shared a sad chuckle and then she sighed and said, "I don't know if I can raise this baby. I do know that I can't raise it with Dix."

She let my confounded silence stretch and the added, "It's OK you know. He and I had a good run but the only way we've lasted as long as we have is because we had enough room to go our separate ways most of the time. Samuel has been the glue that kept us coming back together the last couple of years. But because of Samuel I don't think either one of us really knows how to break things off completely. We don't want to hurt him. He's the best of both of us."

"Geez Patricia. I don't know what to say. Have you told Dixon how you feel?"

"No and I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself for a while yet. Maybe I'm being a bitch but I want Dix and Rachel to sweat it out a little until I can figure out what I really want. This world we are living in is no place for a woman with children to be on her own."

"I agree with you but here are probably some women who wouldn't."

"Don't care whether they agree with me or not to be honest. I'm know I'm no Rambo and I won't put Samuel at risk just for my own vanity. I'm pregnant on top of that. I need to know I have someone who's got my back when the chips are down. And I've got needs too. Dix and I have always had communication problems but the sex was great. I'm not sure I want to give that up."

Blushing a little at her frankness I responded, "I wouldn't know how I would make it if something happened to Scott; but for the sake of the kids I would try."

"I can see that which brings me to this other thing I wanted to talk to you about. If I can't raise this baby, for whatever reason, do you think you and Scott would take it?"

I was purely blown away, "Patricia, that's a ways off and …"

"I KNOW it's a lot to ask. I saw what you went through with Kitty before Hall died, It's just that even if I can't be a mother to this baby, it doesn't mean that I don't want what's best for it. You and Scott always put the kids first but you seem to be able to do it without spoiling them rotten. What's more there's no difference between your biological children and your adopted ones. Not one of them gets treated like the red-headed step child."

"I appreciate your vote of confidence, it means a lot. But why don't you cut yourself some slack for now. You just found out you are pregnant and you are trying to decide what you do and do not want with Dixon. I can say that Scott and I have talked privately and we agreed that we'll take in any child that is homeless unless someone else volunteers first."

We left it at that and when we had finished our circuit of the inner compound area she gathered Samuel and went across the street to the house she shared with Dixon. I'm just not sure whether to call it her home or not.

I turned to go inside when Scott came out of the darkness and nearly gave me a heart attack. I felt so guilty about keeping things from him that I just blurted it all out then and there. Scott shook his head and laughed at my gullibility. He then proceeded to explain to me that Rachel and Dixon were the worst-kept secret in Sanctuary; it's just that no one is saying anything, trying to give them some privacy to give the three of them room to work things out.

I felt stupid. I had had no idea. It still doesn't change the fact that it could get messy but at least now I'm glad to know that Patricia isn't totally in the dark. Wonder how many "secrets" people are keeping. We all live so close, like some oversized family in a small house. The only time we get to get away from each other is when we go on gathering runs. It has its good points and its bad. Hopefully we'll keep the family squabbles to a minimum. We've got enough troubles outside our gates without developing ones amongst ourselves.


	62. Day 100

**Day 100**

Today is a landmark day on our plague calendar. One hundred days; it was hard for me to fathom it going this far when everything started and now I have a difficult time remembering how things used to be. The last five days' weather has only reinforced how different our lives have become.

Rain, rain, rain … five days of the stuff. Our water barrels have to be emptied several times each day. My garden would be a soggy mess if it wasn't for the fact that it's little more than sand and the water is just sinking right through it. We've filled up the garden's water "tower" and also all the kiddie pools and garbage cans that we can find. We are trying to fill up the in-ground pools as well but that means going out in the rain more than I would like. Every single person in Sanctuary has the sniffles and I've been hard pressed to keep up with the demand for cocoa, hot tea, broth, and what have you to combat it. Luckily it isn't a cold rain, that would be misery inducing.

I guess we've had a late-season tropical squall line settle over the top of us, the rain feels like tepid soup. The canals are filling up as are the retention ponds lining US41. I really miss the weather reports. I think there is way for us to build our own weather station but it would have to be very basic and on a day-to-day basis and not any kind forecast like we used to get when VIPER radar was operating. I wonder if MacDill still has that kind of capacity or not. A rain gauge would be easy. So would a thermometer. We could also do a wind sock and maybe even a rudimentary wind speedometer. What would probably be the most useful to gauge bad weather would be a barometer. I know I have directions for this in one of the science experiment books I bought for the kids a few years ago.

Add to this as Scott and I had worried, putting in the sand bags caused some standing water problems in the lowland terrain that was beginning to swamp part of the main road through Sanctuary. The men had to go out and remove a section of bags which created a mini waterfall where the water finally poured off into the canals; like it was originally designed to do. We're going to need a Plan B for security in that area, I'm just not sure what it will be.

The rain has made it difficult to feed everyone. No solar cooking; no sun. No pit cooking; the ground is soaked. My brick oven has been pretty useless too as we built it in a poor location … we need to reroute the water runoff from a valley in our roof, or move the brick oven. We finally had to string a tarp out in the yard so I could keep a fire going up off of the ground. I built it in a metal wheelbarrow base and put a heavy duty grill over the top that let me set large pots on it for boiling water and stuff. Breakfast has been grits or oatmeal except for one morning that I fixed breakfast rice. Lunch has been some type of soup. Dinner has been monotonous in my opinion; fried rice, rice fritters, instant brown rice casserole, Rice-a-Roni that I've doctored up, and tonight was broccoli and rice mixed with canned cheese soup. As long as we can make do without using our propane for cooking we will. Tomorrow though I plan on grilling fresh veggies and making bean patties. I don't think anyone can stomach one more meal of rice.

Our garden has already been a lifesaver for us. The fresh produce has helped to stretch the canned goods. The canned goods' sodium helps to flavor the fresh produce. It's rare that anyone seriously complains about meal time. Even with all of the rain the garden is still going right along though I haven't been able to plant anything new in about a week; that'll eventually catch up with my harvest schedule. My roses though are all diseased with black spot because of too much dampness. I expect I'll see some mildew or wilt in the garden soon as well if the rain doesn't let up. My container trees are loving the weather. Thank goodness I made sure that the pots drained well and the wind hasn't been too bad. I've pulled canistels, Meyer lemons, pomegranates, persimmons, and today I pulled the first of the prickly pears off of the big cactus that is the cornerstone of my edible hedge. I rarely have enough of any one kind of fruit to be worth a dish on its own so one or twice week we usually have a fruit salad of whatever is ripe all mixed together.

The one thing I'm most discouraged about is that I am being forced to use our precious propane for canning. No sun = no solar dehydrator. I have everyone on the gathering runs on the look out for a wood cook stove, even if it is only a small one. I know a couple of places I could find one (Cracker Country out at the State Fair Grounds for one) but it's too far away and out of our territory for now. My dream/fantasy is to find some of the stuff in all of these storage containers that we haven't had time to go through yet. What I'd love to do is to build a summer kitchen near the garden so that I could work and cook at the same time without having to worry about a house fire. This would also free up the older girls – Rose, Melody, Maddie, and Josephine – from having to babysit the cook fire all day long.

If I take away that chore I'll have to find them something else to do. Examining the contents of the aforementioned storage containers springs to mind. I've been trying to keep the older girls busy while the young men have downtime and I know that Scott and Matlock have tried to keep the young men busy when the older girls have down time. Meals and on Rest Days are about the only time their paths cross for more than a few minutes at a time. This keeps temptation to a minimum. It keeps from someone constantly having to play duenna too.

Rose and David continue to enjoy each other's company. Whether anything comes of it in the long run I don't know. Scott and I wouldn't mind it even though we think it's too soon for that kind of commitment. For now they seem to be content with the status quo. Sometimes their breaks will overlap and they'll go for a walk inside the inner compound, but they stay in view at all times and ready in case David has to man a zombie defense position or Rose is needed in the hospital.

Cease and Melody seem to have paired off as well; they make a nice couple. Cease tries to include Belle and Trent whenever he and Melody go for a walk which I would think effectively prevents any hanky panky from occurring. Melody isn't mine to advise but I told her Cease has always been a nice young man around me even during particularly troublesome times. Gee, I feel like someone should be singing that song Matchmaker, Matchmaker from Fiddler On The Roof.

Josephine is still grieving for her family but appears to have it better in hand than she did. She doesn't appear to be jealous of Rose or Melody, thank goodness. She is actually a very beautiful girl, if with a somewhat melancholy edge to it, and her initial immaturity seems to have passed. I think her grandmother would be proud of her and I've made a point of telling her so. Marty continues to try and get her attention but she is unimpressed. It is kinda funny. I don't think he is used to having to work to get the girl. Trish keeps Maddie so busy lately I don't think she's even had time to realize she's no longer bell of the ball.

I love how we are blending the old and the new to create a good thing for us here in Sanctuary. The way we are all trying to work together to make sure the kids don't get into trouble is pretty amazing and we did it without really any planning. We are looking at new ways of doing things as well however. Traditions are good, but we also need flexibility.

As a group we've voted to celebrate Sanctuary's first thanksgiving on the last day of November rather than on the fourth Thursday of the month; but we're leaving Christmas on December 25th as is traditional. This gives me just enough time to gather up everything we'll need. As a surprise I'm going to make homemade rootbeer using a few bottles of McCormick's brand rootbeer extract and some bottles and corks that I've been setting aside as I find them.

It's unlikely that we'll be having turkey this year; not impossible just not likely. The wild turkeys around here have always been few and far between and I don't know what affect the zombies have had on the wild animal population. I have seen a few deer wandering around though they are still real skittish. They aren't White Tails but some small, scrawny Florida deer. There are some turtles out in the orange grove but I'm not real fond of turtle to be honest and you have to work like crazy to get to just a little bit of meat. Dixon says he has some ideas but he never seems to get around to talking about them which drives me a little crazy. I mentioned it to Scott yesterday and he just gave me his mysterious grin. (Groan) When men, particularly my man, gets all mysterious it usually means they are up to something ... which invariably leads to a mess for us women to clean up.

I know as a group we've discussed the possibility of a wildlife population explosion; it was in conjunction with providing some pest protection for the garden. But it may be a season or two before we see any of this. It depends on how the predator situation is and whether they can find enough to feed on. I'm going to keep thinking on it, but without any new options I'm not sure which way to jump yet.

If we can't find a turkey or deer big enough for a feast then I'll either use some of the canned wild meat that we found at that house over in Lake Magdalene or I'll make a big, traditional Cuban dinner of garbanzo bean soup and arroz con pollo. I'll fill the rest of the meal out with cakes and pies (to avoid that age old debate of cake vs. pie). I'll also add salads, side dishes, and maybe a few other surprises besides the rootbeer. I've been craving apples like crazy and I have this recipe for an Apple Pie Cake; it's the one that Nana used to make for Easter every year. But, what I wouldn't give to be able to bite into a fresh, crisp apple. Unless trade starts back up I won't be seeing that any time soon. Apples can't grow in this neck of Florida.

The weather has the zombies acting weird again. This confirms our suspicion that the sound of the rain and/or thunder overwhelms the disease's control of the corpses' neural system. Perhaps too much data or something for the decaying brain to process. Electricity may play a role as well but it's not as easily observable without some scientific instruments and those we don't have.

We used to try and keep track of the number of zombies we sanitized but we lost count when during the last horde came through. At that point our group had easily sanitized over three thousand zombies, not including the earliest days when we were unorganized and still fighting for our lives on an hour by hour basis. Out of a county of over a million people that isn't really that many. About the same number that died in the World Trade Center bombings. Hale Hollow claims they've sanitized over 7,000 zombies. Their people get extra food credits for every provable zombie sanitation so the number is likely close to correct. The MacDill enclave I'm sure has sanitized easily two or three times that many. Even if you say that all the enclaves in Hillsborough county have sanitized between 50,000 and 100,000 that still leaves a lot of people or a lot of zombies unaccounted for. There aren't enough bullets that could take care of them all.

Certainly our septic tank strategy of dealing with corpses hasn't worked. We've started piling the bodies in a dump truck and taking them to a dump that is about five miles away once a week or so. McElroy, obviously a Stephen King fan, says it's OK as long as you think of the bodies as cord wood. Didn't help me any when I took my turn on corpse brigade. I don't know what nightmare muse visited Mr. King but he got one thing right; the sound of change falling from a dead man's pockets is psychosis inducing.

Cease and David started goofing around with the idea of using garbage trucks to dispose of the zombies, similar to what the NRSC did back in the early days of the plague. Then McElroy and Waleski added in that it would be nice if we didn't have to use so much ammo sanitizing the creatures. Jerry, a former waste management employee, suggested jury-rigging an open-ended dumpster to the front of a dumpster-loader type garbage truck and use it like a scoop to shovel up the dead and dump them into the rear of the truck. At that point they would be … trash compacted is as close a description as I can understand. Either way it seemed terribly gross, but definitely effective as well. The fluids wouldn't even leak out until we were ready to dump it. And, as Jerry explained, all the new waste management trucks were automatic transmission to save on driver training costs so even somebody like me could drive one of those things if need be. And filled with fuel those trucks are supposed to operate for like fourteen hours even in stop-and-go traffic. This will definitely be something we will be considering closely.

Something really eerie happened after the sun first went down tonight. At first I thought the dogs were just sensing the zombies acting weird but man, they wouldn't let the kids out of the house. I thought Dixon was going to kick them cause they were growling really ferocious. Then Cease comes in white as a sheet and says he swears he saw some animals tearing into the zombies and making some god-awful racket. None of us heard it 'cause it had started raining pretty good at that point. Matlock and Dixon took the night vision goggles and went out to climb the reinforced guard tower. Cease isn't prone to seeing things so they took him serious.

When they came back they said something had definiely gotten into the zombies because some of our more persistent ones were laying in pieces on the ground. I pray that zombie-ism hasn't suddenly become able to infect animals. That's all we need. How can things get any scarier?


	63. Day 101

**Day 101**

I'm still shaking and can't seem to warm up. I think I'm just about cried out but anything could set me off again. I doubt I'll write as much as I normally do. The only reason I'm doing this now is because Scott finally sent me in here with a solar lantern so that the men could get some planning done without being distracted by my white and tear streaked face.

God what a day this has been. The rain stopped last night so I started out hoping to get dried out and back on schedule. But, a couple of hours after daybreak Lawrence and some of his followers showed up again. Only this time they are trying to do some sort of exorcism because they say we tried to send devils after them during the night.

From the front guard tower Dixon hollered down to them we hadn't sent anything their way, much less devils or demons. They wouldn't listen of course and proceeded to do some kind of "Wall of Jericho" re-enactment. They marched around our wall singing, banging pots and pans, and generally behaving like they were in the throws of some kind of Charismatic Pentecostal fit.

Their noise drew zombies of course. After a couple of hours of the nerve-wracking noise, several of us were ready to let the zombies have them. But after they had made seven complete turns around our wall they left, leaving us with more zombies and less ammo.

Right after lunch, after Lawrence and his followers had left, is when it happened. James was working with Samuel, Bo, Tom, and Brandon on some type of formation sling shot thing. They always practice right on the other side of the animal pens, using targets on the trees and steel walls on the container to keep from hitting people, animals, or windows.

Since Samuel was busy, Sarah was carrying some corn to Henrietta Hog by herself. All adult attention was focused outward, dealing with the zombie threat. Suddenly the air was rent by the screams of both Sarah and the hogs.

No mother should ever have to suffer what I felt at that moment.

I'm still shaking though I think I'm just about cried out. Patricia just brought me some tea to drink so I'll try and sip that while I finish this entry.

The adults didn't reach the animal pens until it was all but over with. All I remember are the screams and everyone running toward them, but this is how the boys told the story to us.

Sarah carried the pail of feed and slop into the hog pen so that Samuel could finish up with sling shot practice. She had just turned from latching the gate behind her when something large and white fell out of the tree onto a couple of the piglets right at Sarah's feet which set both the hogs and Sarah screaming. Sarah instinctively swung the pail at what had hit the ground.

James swung around with his .22 at the same time the animal swiped at Sarah sending her to the ground. The dogs bolted into the enclosure and got between Sarah and the animal. The animal swiped at Sundance sending him nose over tail but this gave the boys the opportunity to let fly with their already loaded slingshots all at the same time; four rocks hitting the animal at high velocity, three of the four hitting the animal in the head. James then vaulted over the fence and pumped three rounds dead center of its forehead.

About that time most of the wall guards arrived with Matlock bellowing for our medics. James positioned himself between Sarah and the terrified mother hog to keep her from being trampled. The other boys were trying to catch the piglets that had escaped.

Scott and I were a split second before Rachel and Waleski. Sarah was bleeding badly from puncture wounds on her left upper thigh. She was also unconscious which is what scared everyone so badly. Cease and McElroy finally had to wrestle Henrietta Hog into the goat pen to give our medics room to work. We eventually found out Sarah was unconscious because she had been thrown into one of the fence posts. She hit the post hard enough that Rachel spent a good 45 minutes picking splinters out of her cheek and from around her eye; her eye is blood shot and she already has a horrible black and blue shiner. Waleski doesn't think her cheek bone is broken but it's hard to tell. Her nose isn't broken but it is bruised and she is having problems breathing through it because it is so swollen. She also has a concussion that we are watching. She was out a couple of minutes and groggy for quite a while after that.

The worst injury however is the four puncture wounds. There was so much blood. When we first got there I couldn't figure out where all of it was coming from; her nose, a split lip for sure. The scalp wound bled something awful as well and required stitches. But her pants leg was the worst and soaked with blood, just dripping with it.

The animal? It was a white tiger, probably an escapee from Busch Gardens which is just about ten miles from us as the crow flies. It was a young female and her tits were full so she had to have a cub or two.

We lost one of the piglets. When the tiger pounced, she snapped the piglet's neck. All of the animals continue to be nervous which could mean that other big predators are in the area. Maybe it's left over blood smell, but we aren't taking any chances. Dixon is going to take a crew and scout around for sign of spore and tracks first thing in the morning. Cease also has some idea of going to Busch Gardens itself but I've been too upset to really listen.

If we had finished that wall – raised it to 16 or more feet like we had planned to do more quickly – maybe the cat couldn't have gotten in. I'm really upset about that and I'm going to push to get it done as quickly as possible even if I have to go on strike to get it done. I don't know, I can't think straight at the moment. The room is swimming so my nerves must really be shot.

Sundance had to be taped up and its not going to be fun trying to keep him from scratching the scabs when they begin to heal. Both of the dogs have been quite pleased with themselves but are showing signs of being even more protective than before. That could be good and not good depending on their aggression. Our little female pup refuses to leave the house. It must be the smell of the tiger blood or maybe the vibes from the other animals.

I'm a nervous wreck. I didn't fall apart until after Rachel and Waleski said Sarah was going to be fine assuming no infection at the puncture wound sites. Cat's claws are nortoriously dirty. Patricia took over looking after the kids so that I could have a nice quiet breakdown. Speaking of Patricia she must've slipped something into the tea she brought me 'cause ….


	64. Day 102

**Day 102**

I have felt strung out all day today. And angry as well though I've behaved myself.

Last night Scott asked that something be put in my tea and Patricia got the short straw and had to bring it to me. He wanted me to sleep because with what they had planned when I was out of the room they knew I was strong-willed enough that I could make enough noise to stop them, or at least delay them until they thought it through a little more. I swear the testosterone must have been at poisonous levels last night.

They went out last night. After dark. And what happened?! They proceeded to get treed … by hyenas … and zombies!

Of course I didn't know any of this until midmorning after a rescue had been made and they were back inside Sanctuary relatively unscathed save for their pride. I woke on a cot in the room they had put Sarah in yesterday. I felt similar to being hung over but without the pukes. Rachel was there quickly and helped me to sit up. She checked my blood pressure and pulse before letting me get up and move around; I guess they hadn't expected the meds to hit me as hard as they did.

Scott showed up within minutes so one of the kids must have been acting as a runner. My other kids all piled in as well and woke Sarah whom I had to then ascertain was doing as well as could be expected. She was in a good deal of pain but it was manageable. We are running out of pain meds too quickly thanks to Teri's little episode and now my daughter is an indirect victim of Teri's selfishness.

I noticed that Scott had that "rode hard and hung up wet" look. I wouldn't have made too much of it if the kids' guilty and furtive looks at their father hadn't put me on notice that something was up. Yeah. I finally got it all out of him while some of the other guys stood around looking sheepish waiting for the big I-told-you-so blow up.

Oh I was angry. Boy was I angry. No, I was furious. (1) He sedated me without my permission. (2) We didn't discuss the lunacy of him going out at night. (3) He didn't say good bye. (4) If they were gonna act like lunatics it was my right to stay awake and worry myself sick if I was so inclined. However, I've learned a few lessons over the last couple of months and managed not to embarrass myself or my family by losing my temper in public. I know he did what he thought was best for me but the only thing I really told him was that if he ever drugged me again he'd better plan on eating out of someone else's kitchen. I think he got what I meant without having to get too specific with the kids around.

That doesn't mean I'm not still angry, but what am I supposed to do about something that is a fait accompli? Sit down and throw a tantrum? What good could that possibly do? Patricia was rather sheepish as well but I'd done the same thing to her … both of us acting in the other's best interest. Tit for tat and all that.

Their recce was successful in one respect I guess; they found predators, just not the ones they had expected. They didn't even make it a half mile from Sanctuary before they ran into trouble. When they first heard the noise they thought maybe it was a dog pack.

The four who went hunting were Dixon as the commander, Cease and Jerry because they have the most hunting experience, and Scott because he knows the area better than anyone else. Scott's first possible location turned out to be the "right" one … for the hyenas anyway.

A section of the fence around the retention pond area just to the northwest of Sanctuary was knocked down way back during the first round of rioting and had never been restored before things fell apart completely. The grass in those retention areas – all over the place for that matter – has gotten pretty tall (we are cutting it for animal bedding and feed). In that particular location it is higher than Dixon is tall and that's saying something considering Dix is well over six feet.

That "pond" is dry 90% of the year, only keeping standing water during the rainiest rainy season. I guess the rain of the last week, mimicked that time of year and all the water had driven the big predators out into the open. As the men walked … yes, I said walked, apparently so they wouldn't make noise and scare away what they were hunting (insert long suffering female sigh right here). As they walked down to the retention pond they didn't really hear much. Jerry admitted that the quiet should have given them some warning but we've just become accustomed to the zombies causing the animals to keep a low profile. They decided to climb a tree to see whether they could see over into the long grass. Thank goodness they hadn't actually walked into it. About that time they heard some rustling and some yipping.

Scott said he'd never climbed a tree so fast in his life, not even when he was a boy. And he did it with a fifty pound pack on his back since he was carrying some of their emergency supplies. Once all the men had secured their seats, Dixon started trying to signal Sanctuary using a lantern. Luckily we have just finished raising and reinforcing a new guard tower on the NW corner of the compound. James had volunteered to man that one and to keep an eye out for possible trouble and Samuel had agreed to act as his runner. They were both still anxious about Sarah and refused to sleep is my understanding. Not long after the first flash was noticed, the boys had Matlock and McElroy up in the tower to read the message and they set to planning a rescue mission.

All during the night the men watched the hyenas bowl through the zombies tearing them apart. They weren't really eating them except for bits and pieces of the least decayed ones. It was more like the hyenas were playing … or maybe teaching each other to hunt. It seems that after so many years in captivity they had to learn how to do things for themselves. The zombies were either the slowest prey for them to learn the skills on or their smell was making the hyenas a little crazy. Hyenas have an incredibly developed sense of smell.

Right after daybreak the hyenas left heading further north as a clan (or so Samuel tells us that is what a pack of hyenas is called). Sweet boy. He spent his free time today sitting with Sarah and reading to her out of book on the animals of Africa.

Unfortunately the racket during the night had drawn quite a crowd of zombies. Wonder what you call a bunch of zombies that don't quite make enough to be considered a horde; "too many" whatever the correct term might be. According to Dixon it was interesting to note how the zombies didn't make any direct aggressive attacks on the hyenas. They hardly even reacted when they were taken down and torn apart. Some of that would have been their lack of pain reception. But the lack of aggression was really different from what we are used to. Maybe the zombies only register humans or domesticated animals for some reason. Or maybe it is something specific about the hyenas. Add another couple of questions to the long list we already don't have the answers for.

For the rescue McElroy drove the tow truck and Junie, now fully recovered and working on getting all the way back in shape, drove the F350. McElroy drove around clearing out the zombies under the tree then Junie pulled up and the men climbed into the bed of the truck and from there into the cab.

Once back in Sanctuary they sent a warning out over the radio letting whoever was listening know that there were big predators on the loose and specifically the general direction the hyenas were heading. We also supposed that the hyenas could have been the "devils" that we were supposed to have sent down to the Ehren Cutoff group … or maybe some other wild animals. The yipping and cackling that a hyena makes though would certainly seem like a devil in the dark of the night to highly susceptible and terrified people.

A small group we'd never heard of radioed back and said that would explain the elephants on the green at USF. Another small group warned they'd lost two dogs to what they think were komodo dragons or Nile crocodiles escaped from Lowry Park Zoo. The second group has a former zookeeper from Lowry as a member and this man warned that if those animals were loose most would be hungry and probably desperate after being cared for by humans for so many years. He also warned that many primates (like chimpanzees and baboons) will become aggressive and carnivorous if stressed and their normal food supply is unavailable.

Lovely news that. Not only do we have to watch out for zombies, raiders, and lunatic cult leaders, now we need to be watchful for dragons, man-eating monkeys, and being trampled to death by elephants. Can life possibly get more bizarre?!

It's possible something good will come of this strange situation. Cease and Jerry want to go hunting … on the Serengeti Plains; well, on the plains of Busch Gardens anyway. All those two have been able to talk about is whether any of the big game is still around like the African antelopes or buffaloes. I confess even my mouth has been watering thinking of the potential for fresh meat.

And it sounds like those two small groups want to have more contact with us. Maybe not become members in Sanctuary but as trading partners or as a satellite community. We'll see. Hale Hollow has already called extolling the benefits of their community. More fool them for giving so much information out over the radio. I guess they haven't learned their lesson about raiders yet.

As for what the rest of the day held, I didn't have to go on strike to get the wall up faster. As a matter of fact they had already started on that before I even woke up. Guess I'm not the only one wishing we had gotten it taken care of sooner.

Almost every other improvement project in Sanctuary has been abandoned so that everyone can help to finish the wall. The Pods are being emptied willy-nilly. As quickly as they are emptied they are being stacked on top of the heavier steel storage containers that we found in that commercial lot. We won't have enough but McElroy and Matlock are hauling in eighteen wheeler trailers and are putting them on top of the storage containers as well on their sides with the wheels facing into Sanctuary. They are nearly the same width as the storage containers are high so there isn't all that much different. And with a length of about 50 feet, it takes a lot fewer of them to create the top of the wall than it would take of the Pods. We'll remove the wheels on the trailers eventually and use them as raised gardening beds or as forms for pouring concrete columns or something like that.

The compound is a mess and I've been trying to go through the mess and pull anything that just jumps to mind eventually. We've got a storage container already over flowing with Christmas lights but we figured we might be able to use them as interior lighting once we get a good power system figured out.

Blessing of blessings, I've found two treadle sewing machines. If neither of them works I might be able to cannibalize them to build one whole, working sewing machine. Also plenty of antique linens that I'll set aside to see what is too fragile to use and what can be made into something practical. Also some antique clothes along the same lines.

Bikes, bikes, and more bikes that can be stored in yet another location. And more than a few old pieces of exercise equipment including several stationary bikes that we hope to turn into bike powered generators.

I'm a little disappointed in the contents of the units we've emptied thus far today. Mostly it looks like a bunch of junk that people just haven't been able to bring themselves to get rid of yet. We've actually started re-stuffing some of the Pods full of stuff that we'd never have need of before they are put onto the Wall. Paintings, personal photographs, furniture, etc. all gets stuff in there as neatly as possible. I mean it hasn't all been useless just a lot of it is junk that is too much of a waste for us to get rid of right now. Maybe at some later point.

The 18-wheeler trailers have actually been more interesting; building supplies, stuff to stock discount stores, auto parts, etc. We've actually found some foods as well; human and animal. I'm amazed at how much stuff we are still finding, even after a couple of months. It seems that there are a lot of places that we still haven't exploited. The problem is we have limited space. It would be nice to just haul in everything that is potentially useful at some point in the future but there simply isn't room to store it.

We are cutting back limbs that used to hang over the wall as well. We think that might have been how the white tiger got in. She climbed one tree, jumped onto the top of the wall, crept around to a convenient tree and then from there pounced into the hog pen.

We have another two or three days to finish the wall and then the men are going hunting. But until we have secured Sanctuary there isn't anything more important. I want those sixteen foot walls and I want them right now.


	65. Day 103

**Day 103**

Sarah has run a low grade temperature most of the day. Rachel and Waleski both have been monitoring her to see if it is just a reaction to the trauma or infection at the wound site. The puncture wounds are enflamed but not more than expected. We have to continue to watch her closely; it could have been so much worse than it was. Cats often snap the neck of their prey before you can say bob's your uncle.

Rachel assured me that the antibiotics should be all that is needed to keep her on the road to recovery. I asked her why they hadn't stitched her leg because it still bleeds quite a bit in my opinion. She responded by explaining so that the wounds can drain. If they were to stitch them up too soon they could actually seal the infection In.

It's strange but somehow the tiger attacking Sarah has released all of us from an almost complacent stupor. We were just making do; reacting rather than being more forward thinking. Suddenly creative juices are really flowing like they were in the beginning of this plague.

Partly I think it's the zombies. As an enemy they are almost mythic. They engender a kind of morbid fascination and are definitely real but at the same time something more than that. Our mind treats them either like an avoidable disease or an unimaginable horror that takes all of our time and mental energy to deal with. We forget there are other horrors out there other things we have to be prepared for. We haven't had to deal directly with raiders in a while though we've heard they are still around. But it's almost a case of being out of sight, out of mind. Unless something is an immediate threat it doesn't register.

But this tiger attack, it is outrageous but real in a way the zombies mentally aren't. It struck at the heart of Sanctuary, at the heart of what Sanctuary stands for. It struck our children, our future, what we are working for. And it was the children who defended themselves – and us – from our new enemy. We should have been there for them.

It has changed our way of thinking. The first thing I noticed was that we stopped being stuck on using those storage containers to complete the Wall. Suddenly we branched out and found such an easy fix. There are plenty of semi trailers around. I don't know why we didn't see them as a solution before.

And what about using those stationary exercise bicycles to make generators? David has promised Rose a better way to grind corn and wheat with one of those bikes as well. It was a charming offer in a dorky sort of way but maybe that's what courting is going to look like from here on out.

Those of us who were soldiers are talking about making supplies of black powder rather than suffering through greater and greater shortages of ammo. This made the kids think of fireworks as potential weapons. The grown ups thought of homemade bombs and homemade rockets.

Scott said he wants to bring in a school bus, strip out most of the seats, reinforce the windows and doors and use it for longer-haul gathering runs. Cease said to add front and rear gun turrets and it would be even better. David said to add an extendable ramp at the rear emergency door and pack three or four motorcycles in the rear for short runs. The bikes would use less fuel and they would also make for a quick exit in case a bugout from the bus was necessary.

As far as for my own ideas I have two main ones. First is a large pole barn built next to the library. We could take more picnic tables from Nye and Lake parks and use the covered area both as a "mess hall" and as a school once it gets too warm for the kids to study inside. And of course I want a summer kitchen too.

My other idea is to build several greenhouses. I don't want to use up good gardening areas so I would likely stick them out in the orange grove. Why I hadn't thought of doing this since Mabel's house was demolished I don't know. Maybe I've been thinking too small, or too traditionally; still in lockstep with the way things used to be. Sanctuary has been growing but somewhere along the way I stopped.

A concern that has amazingly enough been raised by Samuel and Sarah is that we need to hurry up and gather up as many domesticated animals as we can. They have no defense against the African predators. It will mean another expansion of our fenced in territory but I think we've come up with a way around that. We'll make at least one layer of the semi-trailers parked end-to-end. We'll use a mini dozer to push earthen berms under the trailers. On top of those trailers we'll stack cars that we've crushed and cables and bolts to tie them in place. Using broken down cars will also do something with the cars and trucks that we've just pushed off to the side of the road to get the out of our way.

This innovative thinking has even stretched into my menus. I pulled out some of my old-fashioned, Depression-era cookbooks and recipe files and found a few new ones I want to try on everyone. A "pretend" apple pie that doesn't have apples in it, but saltine crackers. "Crab" cakes that don't use crab but zucchini. A spice cake that doesn't use milk, eggs, or white sugar. Ways to extend flour by adding various other ingredients. I knew about all these recipes but I had just forgotten them because my focus has become so splintered.

With everyone pulling together we've almost finished raising the second layer of the Wall. All that needs to be done is in the fenced sections we need to attach another layer of aluminum fencing.

Tomorrow we'll finish that work and prepare the crew that is going to Busch Gardens on Monday. We've also started the new animal enclosure. We are building a small gate from Sanctuary into the new animal enclosure but otherwise the new "pasture" area will be inaccessible from the outside.

With no more truly wide open spaces left inside Sanctuary we've annexed the closest thing to it by choosing to fence in some houses sitting on acreage at our NE corner. We didn't include them originally because we thought we were limited on fencing material, now we have more than enough to build another wall. After we close the area in we'll cut more of the grass, right now it is really high. We are going to draw the zombies out of those areas by setting off an air horn a good distance from Sanctuary. We'll sanitize the few stragglers and then we'll close the new enclosure in completely.

Not even "Brother Jeremiah's Dog and Pony Show" has interrupted our work; although our work has interrupted their plans to continue their seven circuit march. Of course Lawrence's delusions led him to believe we were making the improvements for his grand entrance that is supposed to take place in the very near future. They left around lunch time taking some of the debris we had tossed out onto US41 … calling it a tithe.

I know we are going to have to do something about the Ehren Cutoff group sooner rather than later … Jerry and Muriel in particular are extremely distrustful of them … but so long as they have the semi protection of the Hale Hollow group we need to tread carefully; no matter how annoying they are, at least for now.

Speaking of Hale Hollow, we had bandied about the idea of asking them if they wanted to go hunting with us – safety in numbers – but they are in the midst of another "reorganization." A contingent of five families has definitely broken away from that enclave and plan on setting up their own enclave back on the old Geraci Brothers property at the corner of Dale Mabry and Van Dyke Road. Their problem is a lack of food. They had to leave everything behind to escape from Hale Hollow. They stopped by and traded some work for enough food to get their group through two days so that they can get going on their own gathering runs.

The extra hands were much welcomed and that is why we are as far along as we are. They are building a little close for my comfort – we'll easily have problems with overlapping territories unless they stick to the west side of Dale Mabry – but hopefully we'll be able to stay at peace and maybe even build a good trade relation. Their group is made up of adults and a couple of teens; no children. People with children are too scared of leaving Hale Hollow, worried that they wouldn't be able to protect the youngest members of their group without support.

They did tell us that they know of a couple of families with kids desperate to move from Hale Hollow. Apparently the Hale Hollow group isn't for everyone. They have an elitist outlook and what you were before the NRS plague still matters quite a bit. Also, though they say they welcome new comers, new group members start so low on the pecking order that it is almost impossible for them to get ahead enough to influence their situation. Newbies are little better than indentured servants; working to "pay back" what the community storehouse "gave" them to get them started when they came in with nothing. And until you pay back what you owe you don't leave the compound. Sounds more like a form of slavery to me; like what the railroad and mines used to do to their employees.

Hale Hollow has gone even further and set up a police force that sounds more like a communist committee than public servants. They have a ton of rules (soon to be called "laws") and infractions against these rules at a minimum result in a "fine" usually in the form of desirable goods or in community service hours. They have exiled a few people but usually they send habitual offenders to Brother Jeremiah for what is termed re-education.

That whole situation up there sounds like it is turning scary. At least it sounds like their numbers are coming back down. They were up to nearly 300 people. Two dozen people left last week to continue north (why do this in the middle of winter I don't know). The New Geraci group numbers 26, leaving Hale Hollow with roughly 250 members. There is a huge schism that could break off another 75-100 people that Greg, the spokesperson for the New Geraci group, said could happen any day the way hostilities are escalating. Their group got out while the getting was good, trying to avoid the potential bloodshed of civil war.

We'll tread lightly with Brother Jeremiah so we don't become an outlet, or focus, for all of the antagonism and anger in Hale Hollow.

Well I'm tired. Tomorrow is supposed to be a day of rest but I think we'll have to work through the whole day. It happens like that some times. But if we won't to go hunting on Monday we want to make sure we leave Sanctuary in the best position possible.


	66. Day 104

**Day 104**

No physical rest for us today. In fact we worked really, really hard. But we've achieved a great peace of mind which is just as important as physical rest is; it lets your mind rest.

Phase Two of the Wall is now complete. We have a good sixteen foot tall wall around 95% of Sanctuary. The remaining 5% is double stacked aluminum fencing that has been reinforced with steel rods, with razor wire and barbed wire woven through it. None of it will ever make the cover of House Beautiful but then again I'd rather be safe than pretty. We can make it pretty when the world returns to a halfway normal place to live. If it ever does. The definition of "beautiful" has changed so many times over the millennia that maybe it's time for it to change again.

We've cut back, and cut down, any trees that could possibly be used by predators – animals and human – to get over the wall. We've stacked the resulting green wood to season in case we ever find that wood cook stove I keep dreaming about.

Phase 3 of the Wall project is to complete the animal enclosure wall, already 70% done. While the hunters are gone tomorrow those still in the compound will finish the remaining 25%, barring unforeseen problems.

Phase 4 of the Wall is more like phases 4, 5, & 6\. First we are going to add a wall-walk or parapet to the top of the main Wall. This will be made primarily of wood faced with metal sheeting on the outside. Even if the metal sheeting rips away in a high wind, the way Scott is bolting and chaining everything together the framing should remain intact. Once the parapet height is added to the Wall it will be around twenty-four feet tall. Hurray! This parapet area will also have arrow loops cut into it as well as embrasures that will allow for larger weapons to be used. Scott's imagination has also run to defenses like machicolations where missiles or other objects could be dropped down on attackers, murder holes if we ever build a second surrounding wall that hot oil or other deadly devices could be thrown down on attackers, and a trebuchet or catapult; all very medieval, but all very effective under certain situations.

We do worry about wind storms taking our main defensive tool down. It's been decades since Tampa has sustained a direct hit by a hurricane but we get high wind advisories fairly regularly during hurricane season. This past season has been a dud but I'm not complaining. The season officially ends November 30th and then won't pick up again until June 1 and I won't be sorry for the break. We've got enough to worry about right now.

As a consequence of the higher walls we need to increase the number and height of our guard towers; the towers are more difficult to build. So far Scott has been able to get all of the building materials he has needed locally by taking things from construction sites, by dismantling existing structures, and from stuff we've gathered from various businesses on US41. He is worried though about making the taller towers stable and structurally sound enough to withstand constant use. He'd like them to be a little like drum towers on castles but affixed to the inside of the wall rather than the outside corners, and square instead of round.

The last major part of the wall construction as far as I know is to increase the height and strength of the front and rear gates. A wall is only as strong as its weakest point. Scott is seriously thinking of a multi-gate system of entry and has nearly convinced Matlock and Dixon that the extra work will be worth it in the long run. The outer most component would be a draw bridge. This would require us tearing up the train tracks and tarmac at the end of the road where it feeds out onto the highway; no small feat and one requiring a bulldozer. We haven't seen or heard a train since the derailment that started the Big Fire but we'd probably put warning signs a couple of miles along the tracks in either direction just to get rid of any guilt. Scott also wants the railroad ties for some projects he has planned so the destruction would serve more than one purpose. The drawbridge could be raised and lowered with the same type of mechanism used to raise and lower ship anchors and if the appropriate number of pulleys and such were used, even a child could do it in an emergency.

Next component, after the drawbridge, would be a strong portcullis of some type. This would stay closed at all times even if the drawbridge was down and the inner gates open. It would operate kind of like a screen door; air flow but no bugs, the bugs in this case being zombies or other unfriendlies like wild animals and raiders.

Last would be the heavy inner gate that could be locked with a cross beam or something similar. Eventually he said he would like to enclose the entire entrance in a gate house. This would give him a chance to build even more murder holes and defensive mechanisms; but that is some time off. We certainly won't complete all of that before the hunt tomorrow.

Dixon will lead the first Busch Gardens Gathering Run. I'd rather it was Matlock but that might be a personal and unreasonable prejudice on my part. There isn't anything wrong with Dix, I just like Matlock more. I'm still reeling a bit from the Patricia/Rachel/Dixon thing I guess. Cease and Jerry are going because they are the two most experienced hunters in Sanctuary. Waleski is going as the medic. It gives me butterflies thinking he might be needed. The last two members going on this run will be Scott and I. I'm not real happy about leaving the kids but we've been away together on shorter runs and the world hasn't ended. The thing is that Scott and I both worked at Busch Gardens when we were in college and we also had yearly passes for the last few years and were there about once a month as a family. We know both the public areas as well as the backstage areas. With two of us we can break down into two groups of three rather than one large group. Considering no one else in Sanctuary has ever been to Busch Gardens this should really expedite our hunting and gathering.

With the six of us gone it will leave Sanctuary short-handed. Now that we have more room maybe we should consider recruiting some of the smaller, nomadic groups out there. A bigger wall means a bigger area to guard. I'll be honest (this is my journal after all) and admit that I'm not too keen about taking in folks from Hale Hollow or Ehren Cutoff. We have enough problems of our own we are working through, we don't need to inherit any other problems. I may have to eat those words in the future especially if children are involved, but since this is a private diary no one will know but me, at least not for years and years to come.

I talked to Patricia and asked her to keep an eye on Sarah for me. She said of course and I'm that relieved. Patricia has had her problems, and still does, but she knows what Sarah means to Samuel and has actually fostered their friendship to a certain degree. That's fine with me. Samuel is a good kid. Patricia's right; he is plainly the best of both Dixon and herself.

James (when not on guard duty) and Rose, with a little help from Becky and Tina, should be able to handle the rest of the kids including Kitty who is over the colicky stage she was in. David will be around as well when not working on the enclosure. The kids view him as a big brother and he'll help James with the discipline if it's needed, though he is a bit of a sucker and the kids all know it.

Becky and Matlock are over their disagreement of the other night and it doesn't seem to have hurt their relationship any. To be honest it may have helped them to open up and talk about some deeper stuff than what is going on day-to-day. According to Becky, Matlock has some reason to be distrustful of organized religion, but she also said he's now open to being proven wrong. Apparently parochial school was a nightmare for him and he lumped all organized religion under the same heading rather than weighing churches individually on their own merits. We all have our reasons for why we feel the way we do about things. The trick is to be careful that our feelings – due to mistrust or fear – don't turn us into the thing we despise most.

I expect it to be nippy in the morning so I plan to be up early to get water boiling so I can fix several thermoses of coffee and tea to take with us on the run. We'll make a quick breakfast of grits with bacon and cheese added in and I'll pack a basket of cathead sized biscuits that have butter and molasses in their centers for a midmorning snack for those that get hungry. Lunch will be protein bars this time and we'll be home before dinner. Just in case though we are throwing a case of MREs in the bus and plenty of treated water.

Aside from the normal expectation of a major run, something tells me that tomorrow is going to be special. I don't know what it is but my anticipation is pretty high. We'll head out as soon as the first rays light the sky and roll over any zombies that are in our way.


	67. Day 105

**Day 105**

Wow, this day has been something else. I mean really.

We left before dawn by about 30 minutes. Not my choice, but the guys wanted to get to the park at first light. We gave it the old college try but it didn't happen, too much junk in the road that a bus simply can't go around too quickly. Scott said if he can figure out a way he might try and put a dozer bucket or something similar on the front of the bus, maybe even with hydraulics, to facilitate moving road blockages. That's way outside his current skill set though and will require a good study before he can do it. The way things looked a battering ram would have been just as handy though a lot more noisier.

Zombies, unaffected by lack of light, roam all night and we usually have a small group wandering outside the gates of Sanctuary every morning. This morning was no different, but rather than having the guards clear the corpse brigade we used the bus to simply roll over them the same way we would have used the tow truck. I had forgotten that nasty, squishy noise and the weird feeling of the bumps when you run over a zombie. Totally ick. I hadn't run the tow truck since the time of the raiders. It's amazing how quickly you can forget something you'd rather not remember.

We loaded the bus late yesterday and double checked everything this morning before heading out. Our food and water was secured under the remaining benches at the front of the bus. The rear of the bus has a heavy-duty, folding trailer ramp hung across the rear emergency door and windows, providing additional protection in that area. The ramp can be used for the four motorcycles that have been secured back there. The remaining windows are covered with grill work. We haven't had a chance to perfect the two gun turrets on top of the bus, but they are secure and serviceable, if not esthetically pleasing to look at. The windshield is already tempered but Scott added hurricane film to protect the windshield even more. The bus was also given a sort of urban camouflage paint job using supplies from a local car dealership. It isn't pretty but it is better than driving a big yellow banana.

So we set out as secure as possible but not without some trepidation, at least on my part. I don't know about the men, they all seemed kind of watchfully excited to be on such an adventure. Especially Dixon who, if he doesn't get out and about very much, gets to be like a caged lion pacing around Sanctuary's walls. I hadn't been any further away from home than Vandervort Road in over three months so my anxiety level took a decided jump as we went beyond that point and turned onto Livingston Avenue and headed south to Bearss Avenue and then over to Bruce B. Downs Blvd. Passing all of the USF housing and what was left of the community hospital was disturbing. I had only heard about the destruction, seeing it with my own eyes … let's just say I'm ever more thankful that my kids were home and not away at school some place. I shudder at the terror and anxiety that some parents had to go through. Hank hardly talks about his oldest son, but when he does you can see that there is still some small spark of hope left that he got out somehow; that he'll never see the boy as an NRS plague victim. It's really only wishful thinking but we all leave him alone about it.

We took Bruce B. Downs Blvd south to Fowler Avenue. As we crossed Fowler I could see that small fires apparently continue to break out here and there on campus. I don't know if they are man-made or not and we didn't have time to investigate. The sky was already beginning to brighten and traveling was slow going.

We had decided to enter the park at the employee entrance off of Bougainvillea Avenue. As we continued down Bruce B Downs to reach that road I hoped our memory was correct and that that entrance would give us the turning around circumference that we needed for the bus. Plus, because of the way that entrance was set up, we likely would not be as observable by others who may only know about the main park entrance at Busch Blvd and McKinley Street or the main employee entrance off of 30th Street. There was a small sheriff substation on the 30th Street side of the park but we wound up not having time to investigate it.

The employee entrance we went in was in the rear of the park and abutted right onto Tampa Industrial Park. The corporate offices for the park are at the entrance and housed mainly Accounting and Employee Services. The Tampa Industrial Park was another place we have added to our Run List now that we have a successful mode of transportation. The Yuengling Brewery is in the industrial park and all of the guys wanted to stop there. There are some other warehouses in there as well but some have been empty for a number of years. We simply can't do everything we want in one day; today's priority was Busch Gardens and that's what we stuck with.

We pulled through the gates and idled the engine after we positioned the bus for a quick get away, if needed. Dixon got out and after a couple of moments signaled for the bus ignition to be turned off.

Looking around the parking lot where Scott and I shared many a kiss the first thing that struck me was the lack of zombies. In fact there weren't even any corpses. It's rare to be in an area with neither, especially given the cacophony of noise coming from inside the park in the form of bird calls and other miscellaneous animal sounds that should have drawn the zombies like magpies. Wondering didn't get the work done though so everyone grabbed an arm load of canvas bags. Garbage bags don't hold up for very long and the canvas bags were the same kind that people used to go grocery shopping once so many stores stopped using plastic bags.

First we hit the back offices where I interviewed for my first job what seems like a million years ago. After breaking in we found the offices have been devoid of people for quite a while. They'd never even been looted. It's possible that because of their location they were overlooked. Truthfully they aren't all that interesting looking even when you know they are there.

The whole building was musty and the roof had leaked through the acoustic ceiling tiles in several places. There was mold and mildew all over so we popped on our N95 masks and goggles to try and avoid the worst of it. I've gotten used to working with gloves on and had already put them on before exiting the bus. I have a favorite pair of leather gloves that fit like a second skin; over the top of the surgical gloves that I do wear like a second skin if I'm outside of Sanctuary.

Cease and Dixon acted as lookouts as the rest of us went from office to office gathering anything that could be useful. Mostly all we found were office supplies, but the ladies restroom and the janitorial closets yielded quite a few things like feminine hygiene products, toilet paper, paper towels, and other cleaning supplies and chemicals. In the break room though we hit our first piece of pay dirt; coffee, tea, creamers, sugars, cocoa, and a nearly full vending machine. We were lucky none of it had been compromised by rodents. The roaches weren't too bad either which led me to think the building had been treated regularly up until NRS closed the public areas of Busch Gardens. Most of the office plants had died but there were a few I was thinking about trying to save when Scott caught my eye, grinning, and shook his head "no." Can't blame a girl for thinking now can you? I love plants and I carried a few outside so that at the very least if they were going to die they could die in the sunlight.

We hauled our finds back to the bus and dumped them into a couple of the large storage tubs we brought along for this purpose. We finally set off into the heart of the park from there.

A short road led us first past the back of the Congo Train Station then behind the empty cages for the white tiger than aren't within the public viewing area. Dixon was point with Scott right behind him. Cease was the rear guard with Jerry just in front of him. Waleski and I were in the middle. Everyone but me had a gun. I carried my handy-dandy machete that had yet to let me down in addition to a side arm that was less likely to put me on my rear if I actually had to fire it. We were going to check out a couple of restaurants together then break up into two groups and cover the rest of what employees call Area 2 (the rear of the park) with a rendezvous planned at the First Aid Station in Timbuktu. From there we planned to go through the Desert Grill (one of the park's main restaurants) together and then break up again and cover Area 1 (the front of the park) with a rendezvous point at the front gate. Then as a group we'd go back by way of the main warehouse and then back to the bus and home, picking up any supplies we had piled along the way.

First we hit what used to be called Vivi Storehouse, a restaurant that I worked in for a couple of years that served things like fried chicken, triple-decker sandwiches, salads, and desserts. It was only a seasonal restaurant and wasn't open when NRS came to town so I didn't hold out much hope that we would find food there. But I did want to see if I could bring back any of the metal cooking utensils and rolling bins that were kept there.

The rear door of the restaurant was chained shut which they never did when Scott and I work in the park. This was either an additional security measure to prevent vandalism between seasons or they had done it when they closed the park to the public back in August. Either way it didn't stop us. Scott made short work of the chain and lock with his bolt cutters.

With the roll down doors shut across the front, the interior of the place was pitch-black. However, nearly in the same places they were 25 years ago were the rolling flour bins (empty), the Lucite storage bins lined up on the metal shelving (also empty), and just inside the cook area was the rack where the utensils and knives were. I quietly and quickly loaded stuff into the rolling flour bins while everyone looked over the rest of the restaurant using LED head lamps that left their hands free. There was no talking, no real need for more than the occasional hand gesture; we had all been on so many gathering runs by this time that we worked together as a well-practiced team. I did get a pretty good spook when I turned to set my next load outside when I noticed the open door was allowing several possum-sized rats to exit the building.

With a shudder I remember those rats from when I worked in the park. They have no fear of humans. The Swiss House had been closed for several years when they decided to re-open it and renovate it for corporate events and casual dining. It was horribly infested with these large rats and the construction chased them out into the rest of the park. Because of the water and grassy areas and all of the hidden places in the animal enclosures they became an endemic nuisance that the zookeepers were constantly at battle with, much like the wild ducks that would migrate to the park every year and overpopulation by feeding on all the popcorn that was dropped by tourists.

Rather than going back to the bus every time we got a load of supplies we decided to make centralized piles that we would pick up along the way back to the buss. Luckily those rolling flat beds, like you used to see at Warehouse Clubs, are located at a lot of different places throughout the park. It's how most supplies are moved around the interior where you can't use mechanized vehicles. We decided to use those to push the various piles back to the bus and hopefully only have to make two or three trips back and forth to get it all.

Next a little shop that sold soft serve ice cream in waffle cones. We didn't even bother going into it after we noticed one of the wooden panels over the door had been chewed through and the strong smell of rat feces that bellowed out at the smallest puff of wind. That didn't bode well for the remainder of our run.

From there we stayed together as a group and passed the kids' attraction called Jungala. I heard some scurrying and turned to see a gibbon swinging from the fake vines on some of the fake trees. Scott and I looked at each other with our eyes big and round. Gibbons are the fastest and most agile of the tree-dwelling monkeys. They are also very territorial and vocal about it. From the sound of things there was definitely more than one gibbon in there. Scott looked at Dixon and shook his head. We'd be by-passing the gibbon's domain, at least for now. Better safe than sorry until we knew what we were dealing with.

Before I could turn Jerry taped my shoulder, nearly giving me a heart attack to tell the truth, and pointed to the path behind us. Cease was standing at ready as a large orangutan lumbered across the path we had just crossed. Oh boy. I mean oh boy. I don't care how cute and funny they look, how remarkably intelligent they are supposed to be. Luckily I'm fairly certain that though they are opportunistic foragers the closest they come to being carnivorous is the fact that they will eat insects and eggs if they are handy. Still, I've been a city girl for too many years now and like my big hairy zoo creatures behind walls, or in the care of a trainer and leash, rather than using the same sidewalk as I am like. I felt like an interloper rather than someone who was supposed to be at the top of the food chain.

We avoided sudden movement and continued walking across the bridge into the Stanleyville area; passing the white tigers' island. There were the remains of two mauled humans on the island. One was wearing the remains of a zookeeper's uniform and the other body had street clothes on. Both kills looked like they had been bitten more than once. It was hard to tell from this distance how hold the corpses were but obviously no older than about three months. The zookeepers probably ran out of food and in misguided desperation, after the world had ended for most folks, decided to free the captive animals that had a chance of being self sufficient. Or, alternately, the body in street clothes could have been a zombie or looter that caught the zookeeper unaware. Just one misstep by the zookeeper or the other human could have easily let the tigers escape captivity. That would explain the tigers, but too many of the animals were free for it not to be intentional on someone's part.

At that point we decided to split up into two groups. The group I was in would head deeper into Stanleyville and the group Scott was in would return the way we had come and head through Congo and into Timbuktu. I'd lead my group through Stanleyville and then through the backstage employee area and into Timbuktu from there.

The other members of our group gave Scott and I a moment of privacy to say goodbye, good luck, and stay safe … then we parted.

Cease led our small group. Cease, Waleski, and I passed the Skyride, the Tidal Wave, and Stanleyville Falls as we headed towards the shop and restaurant area around Sheikra roller coaster. The water in both Tidal Wave and Stanleyville Falls was stagnant, green, and stank. Waleski pointed out drag marks in the mulch heading from one side of the wide walkway to the other. My best guess was that the crocs had gotten out or new crocs had moved into the park. The water was too green to see through and frankly I wasn't going to go wadding and find out though I did look over the edge to take a look. Seeing nothing we continued on.

The first building we entered was the shop called Sheikra Sweets. The doors were standing wide open and the interior of the shop looked like a small bomb had gone off in it. There was stuff strewn everywhere. My guess is that it was monkeys at work. Looters would have taken stuff with them, not played in it. Neither would zombies have done this. The deciding factor was when Cease pointed out several scat signs in and around the building.

The noise coming from the Bird Gardens was almost overwhelming. It was making us all nervous. If the sounds were this loud when we were still another bridge and many yards away, the sound would be deafening in the bird area itself. We wouldn't be going there however until after we hooked back up with everyone else.

Next spot we hit was the Zambia Smokehouse. The chains were still across the doors so I hoped that the interior wouldn't be quite so much of a mess. It wasn't … it was worse. The monkeys had found a way in through the ceiling. The smell was overpowering so we quickly retreated to open air and after a brief consultation decided to work our way around behind the train station in that area and over to the shopping places so I could see if anything remained there that was useful. I picked up a rolling trash can from one of the hidden work stations and pulled it behind me as we walked; Cease on point, Waleski in back, and me and my silly looking trashcan in the middle.

Our luck finally came in a little bit. The stores there hadn't been bothered. There was a lot of suntan lotion and bug spray as well as rain gear, all things that would come in handy and had a good shelf life. I also dumped in clothes, jewelry, and trinkets that I thought interesting. When Cease and Waleski gave me a funny look I sotto voiced "Christmas for the kids" and they just sort of rolled their eyes but nodded their heads. Humph … let's see if those two grinches get anything in their stocking this year.

The rolling garbage can was one of those that was nearly as big as I am so even dumping what I could in there it wasn't full before it was time to go backstage and cut across the Timbuktu. Still I left it chained to a post and tied it shut so that I wouldn't have to pull it uphill and across railroad tracks in the backstage area.

I opened an innocuous looking wooden gate and was fondly remembering some of the events of my employment at this place - like meeting the lead singer of the band The Cars - when what had been an easy run up to this point abruptly turned into a nightmare.

There were bodies visible on the ground as soon as we passed through the gate. And it looked like they hadn't been there for much more than a couple of weeks. Maybe some of them were zombies at one time … a couple had obvious head shots … but some of them were not. Well, you had to kind of put the bodies back together like a jigsaw puzzle in your head but you could tell that some of the hands, arms, and torsos that remained held guns or guns lay near them.

I've never seen anything like it. Cease whispered, "Possible rager? Maybe more than one?" Waleski and I just shrugged our shoulders. We hadn't really seen enough of the rager type zombies to say that they could or would tear a live human to bits. And if they could why would they throw the body parts all around like this? The ragers we had seen just kind of barreled through barricades and ripped and tore with their teeth, eating until they were gorged and moving on. This was new behavior. Or, maybe it wasn't zombies.

We must have all thought the same thing at the same time. We wound up with our backs to each other, searching our surroundings even more cautiously than we had already been doing; Cease and Waleski with their guns at the ready and me with my machete in hand.

Without warning something barreled into me, sending me tumbling into the two men. I fell; they didn't thank goodness or it would have all been over with. As unbeliveable as it seemed, we had apparently violated the territory of a very aggressive troop of baboons and it was likely they rather than zombies had been what ripped the other unfortunate people to shreds.

Male baboons can make sounds that will carry for miles. The loud, angry shrieks and grunts echoed along the concrete block walls of the backstage area, reverberating and coming back to us and giving us very few clues about the direction the group was attacking from. We looked up to the roof tops and down the alley ways and saw the buggers bouncing on everything.

I was scrabbling for my machete that had flown out of my hands when another baboon jumped in front of me and flew at my face. I got my shoulder up and in the way before it could slash me with its teeth. The heavier than usual coat I had chosen to wear saved me from a penetrating bite but I couldn't help but nearly scream as loud as the baboons when the wicked little beast's hands, claws, paws … whatever you want to call them … got caught in my hair and it yanked viciously.

I got to my feet and it jumped off my back and I turned for a look at Cease and Waleski seeking their help. Both men were fighting off their own attackers. Cease was shooting at one that was attached to his boot and was nearly knocked sideways by another that attempted to barrel into him. Waleski was battling off a persistent baboon that kept trying to snap at his face. He saw me and yelled, "Run to Scott!" I turned to grab for my machete but was blocked when three more big baboons, one of them a male blue face, blocked my way. I backed up only to find that I was being surrounded on that side as well.

Waleski again yelled run before trying to shoot me a path while Cease tried to cover our rear. I gave him one last look and turned and took off across the railroad tracks screaming behind me, "Head for the tallest building on the other side of this fence!"

I was terrified I had seen the last of those men. If that's what happened, they gave their lives making sure that I could get away. I could hear the baboons behind me scrabbling along the concrete, banging into things as they went. I ran through the gate into Timbuktu and slammed it behind me just in time to hear them run smack dab into it, hard to make the gate rattle in its hinges. I headed for the first aid station but when I got there the door was chained and locked shut. I remembered at that moment that Waleski had the bolt cutters.

I didn't want to get pinned into a corner and came back out to see a lone, male baboon still in pursuit of me. Making a quick decision and praying it wasn't a bad one I headed for the Oasis Snack Bar that was near the merry-go-round. Wonder of wonders the door was open and I ran inside only to hit what felt like a brick wall. Down I went again, seeing stars.

But … walls do not have beards, nor do they resemble a fabled Norseman come to life. I was stunned, thinking perhaps I had finally cracked and was hallucinating. I had just started to say something, although for the life of me I can't remember what it was now, when the big man stepped around me and brought an honest to God shillelagh down on the head of the male baboon that had been chasing me. The crunch of wood against bone was nauseatingly clear in the quiet that had descended once I had gotten away from the main baboon troop.

In fact, it was too quiet. No gunfire. No more loud baboon screams and grunts. And here I was at the feet of this huge bear of a man. I managed to close my mouth and turn my brain back on before I made another mistake. Thankfully no monkey blood had splattered my face although the rest of me got misted pretty good.

Before I could decide what to do the bearded man put a finger to his lips to give a silent, "ssshhhhh" and then offered to help me up. What was I supposed to do, wallow on the ground in monkey brains? So yeah, I accepted the hand of this stranger to help me stand up. But I wasn't crazy, I took a few steps back to keep a little distance, doing so I bumped into something warm and fuzzy; two warm and fuzzy somethings. I nearly wet my pants until the big guy grinned. Turns out he has two companions, both red French Mastiffs. They are extremely heavily muscled.

It scared me at first how close they were crowding until I realized they were acting the way that Butch and Sundance act when they are in protector-mode. They were snuffling my hands and it would have been gross if they weren't so cute … boy, talk about droolers. They made that movie dog called "Hooch" spring to mind. I think Tom Hanks played the lead role in the movie but all I could really remember was the dog got drool everywhere and looked a lot like these dogs did.

After I had a second to register all of that, and for the big guy to give me a sec to catch my breath, I admired how well trained the dogs were not to immediately tear into the monkey's carcass. They must be well-fed and well-trained which gave me some added confidence.

But I kept coming back to, despite the fact that this man had oh so obviously saved my life, that I was alone with a strange man … something that hadn't happened to me in a long, long time. The first words out of my mouth were, "My husband should be along shortly. And he has a gun."

"Hmmmm," the big man replied. "Was he the one shooting?"

Stupid me just spilled it all. "No. That was two of my other companions. Uhhh, I really need to check on them. They were shooting at the baboons so that I could get away. We were all supposed to hook up at the first aid station over beside that big restaurant."

"Mmmm. The name's Angus. Angus Cuddy. What's yours?"

"Oh. Its … um …" Then after a deep breath and making another split second decision I said, "How do you do Mr. Cuddy, my name is Sissy … Sissy Chapman. You from around these parts?"

I guess Mr. Cuddy thought I was a little strange for being so formal, especially under the circumstances. He laughed quietly and raised an eyebrow causing me to blush a little. But, I'm southern and southern ladies try and use good manners even under the most difficult and embarrassing of situations. It's supposed to be a sign of good breeding, or so I've been told nearly my entire life. Really, my great grandmothers used to lecture us girls on it.

About that point we both turned as we heard the telltale slap of boots against sidewalk coming at a steady run. The dogs wouldn't let me move but Mr. Cuddy took a peak around the door and said, "Big blonde male 40-ish or so, older man in a flannel jacket and track shoes, and a dark-headed guy with glasses who looks like he's about to chew horseshoes and spit nails."

"That's my husband and his group. My husband is the dark one," I whispered frantically as the dogs still wouldn't let me pass.

Mr. Cuddy gave a short whistle and the men came to an abrupt halt with their guns at ready.

"Steady boys. I got a lady in here that says that dark haired gent is her husband. She's had a bit of a … "

Mr. Cuddy didn't get any further. Scott dived passed him and came up short as the dogs growled.

"Mischief. Mayhem. Be polite and introduce yourselves."

The dogs turned all friendly and head butted Scott as he was wrapping me in his arms. All I could do was blubber that we had to go help Waleski and Cease; that the baboons must have got them. Dixon heard what I had said and became even more obviously concerned; well, as concerned as he ever looks. It's not always easy to tell with him.

About that time there was a huge slam and crack. Mr. Cuddy and all the men turned with their guns ready as Cease and Waleski fell through the now broken gate. Both men saw us and were gesturing with their hands to "go, go, go!"

The ran-limped in our direction; and then we saw them. The baboons hadn't given up. Cease and Waleski, after getting turned around a few times, had finally figured out how to get into Timbuktu. They were exhausted from fighting the animals off. There must have been at least thirty of the beasties in pursuit. I was pushed back into Oasis as the men lined up and began shooting gallery style at any baboon that came over the fence.

Cease and Waleski finally made it. Dixon told them to get in with me. The two large dogs stood guard and tore one baboon that came up behind the building to pieces before anyone even realized it was back there.

I grabbed Waleski's pack and was digging for bandages and antiseptic. They were a mess. I couldn't tell where monkey blood left off and their blood started. Waleski had a wound on his face that just missed the corn of his eye. I had to be careful cleaning that one. Their hands were cut up pretty good too. It looked like their packs though had taken all of the actual bites except for Cease whose pant leg was shredded near to the top of his boots. But overall he was in better shape than Waleski and even had my machete. He said, "I have got to get me one of these things!"

I figured if he could drool over my machete, the kid wasn't in that bad of condition. Waleski was shaking pretty good but said he would be OK in a minute. He picked up his rifle where he had set it down and went outside and proceeded to shoot every baboon he saw. When the last baboon went down and no more tried to make it over the fence or beyond the Scorpion roller coaster he said, "Now I'm OK. But if any of those stinking [expletive deleted by Sissy] come near me I swear I'll feed 'em to the damn zombies if I have to cram 'em down their throats!"

After a deep breath he turned to Dixon and reported what had happened. Scott in the meantime was making Mr. Cuddy's acquaintance. Mr. Cuddy insisted we drop the "Mr." And just call him Angus. There was a lot of handshaking and backslapping for a bit, nor would Scott let me out of his sight. He also praised Mischief and Mayhem which seemed to thrill them to no end.

We needed a break and to regroup so we headed over to the first aid station, cut the bolt and went inside. Waleski was thrilled to find a reasonably well stocked med station. No drugs, but that was to be expected. But they did have just about everything else including small tanks of oxygen and some other items you normally would find in a small clinic.

While Waleski wandered and muttered to himself, Angus told us his story. He's single and originally from Pennsylvania but is the type that will occasionally get itchy feet and just need to take off and explore. He was in one such phase and was exploring Florida when the NRS quarantine closed the state line and there was no way for him to get home. He was quiet about it which led me to think that there might have been some family back home that he tried as hard as the rest of us not to think about too hard. With no family or friends down here he'd pretty much been surviving on his own since the first riots. He'd mentioned running into a few small groups but nothing ever clicked for him. When we told him about the families back at our place he perked right up. He said he hadn't seen any little kids for a long time. Doubt he had even been near any or the dogs would have taken off to find them.

Scott invited him right then and there to come back to Sanctuary with us. My husband is a quick and good judge of character and I guess despite their obvious physical differences … Scott is 5'8" on a good day, dark and of Hispanic descent; Angus Cuddy is a barrel-chested big man at 6', has a beard and looks for all the world like a Norseman … something struck a cord between them.

Dixon looked like he wanted to say something but the look on Scott's face made him re-think whatever it was. I could understand Dix's position; he had the safety of Sanctuary to think of first. But Mr. Cuddy saved my life. I would have been monkey chow if it hadn't been for him. And I'll admit that I liked him a great deal on short notice too. I wouldn't have even thought about letting him near the kids if something hadn't really spoken to me about his trustworthiness. He reminded me a bit of the mountain men I used to read stories about in the journals I used to check out at the library.

After some hesitation, Angus assented to at least coming for a visit. You could tell he liked his independence and wasn't one who liked to be hemmed in just from some of the circumstances of his personal history. But a visit he could handle. I think he may have been a little lonely and ready for some real company, though his dogs were nice. He said he was looking for a base of operations and maybe something in the area of Sanctuary would suit him better than what he had found thus far.

After a group think, we decided not to waste the chance and to continue covering Busch Gardens to see if there was anything else worth gathering. Angus said to forget the Desert Grill itself as the monkeys had done a number on it. I was worried. We only had two supply piles to pick up so far, the one behind Vivi and the one in the trash can over in Stanleyville. Scott's group hadn't found anything although Scott had made a list of possible building supplies for another run back to this location. I didn't want to have come all this way, wasted all this gas, to come back with next to nothing. Although thinking about it, a new friend is certainly not "nothing."

Scott did ask me one thing before we left the first aid station, "Sissy, why didn't you have your pistol out?"

Oh brother, all the men looked at me and all I could do was stand there embarrassed. "Um, I didn't think about it. I had my machete most of the time."

"Oh Sissy! What am I going to do with you girl?! Pull the damn thing out of its holster and keep it in your hand from here on out. That machete is all well and good but you need to remember that gun … damn it woman. I swear, have a consideration for my heart if you can't think about your safety."

I accepted the lecture as gracefully as I could. No one likes to look like an idiot and I admit that not thinking of the pistol when it was sitting right there on my hip was pretty stupid. But if I had had it out I might have shot Mr. Cuddy. This time it turned out for the best, but next time it might not. Lesson learned. I really do need to get used to using the pistol when I'm carrying it; I just like the machete better and have had more luck with it. I guess I'm just not a "gun girl." But that's no excuse. These days you can't get stuck in a rut, you have to be flexible enough to learn new skills and think outside your comfort zone.

Scott really wasn't (and isn't) mad at me. It's just he is concerned for my safety and doesn't seem to understand that I simply don't think in terms of guns. Knives yes, guns no. If I had had the .22 in my hands I would have remembered it and used it. The pistol just kind of sits there and I wind up forgetting about it in favor of my big, nifty machete. Machetes don't make noise. A gun does. I can lop off the head of a zombie neat as you please and not have to worry about attracting more of the things. A gun will kill a zombie from further away ... assuming I'm actually able to get a head shot ... but makes enough noise to attract more of the boogers and lead them to my location. From my perspective it's a Catch-22.

From Timbuktu we walked into the Nairobi area. This was the big animal area. As reported, the elephants were loose and had left the park; at least we think they've all left the park. They were probably having the time of their lives on the green spaces at USF. The rhinos were also missing. I noticed all the trees in the park were missing leaves in rather funny patterns; then it hit me. The giraffes must be out, but whether they are still in the park I don't know. We never saw any. The other major predators were gone from their enclosures as well; the lions, the hyenas, and a few others like that. The grazers though seemed to still be in the area and Cease was practically aching to go on a hunt. Dix said we would try and do a little hunting before we left and that seemed to appease everyone.

It also seemed to mark the turning point in our Run. Or maybe Angus is a good luck charm. The Kenya Kanteen hadn't been vandalized by animals. There were cases of condiments, salt & pepper, and even some #10 sized cans of things. All were piled into the ever present trashcans and then stood together for us to come back and pick them up on our way out. Waleski must have said something to Dix because he asked if I wanted to stop at the gift shops for stuff for the kids. I was glad to take the opportunity and all but stuck my tongue out at Waleski who had rolled his eyes again. I stuffed two more trashcans full of stuff to take back.

From Nairobi we went into the area called Egypt where we spent over an hour running from place to place stuffing trashcans and other containers full of stuff from the Colony House (formerly the Swiss House) restaurant to the upscale gift shops. From Egypt we went through the Moroccan area. This area was a bit more of a mess but was still jam-packed with useful items. We must have filled ten trashcans in this area alone.

As we passed the Moroccan café where the belly dancers often did shows, I saw several of the guys stick things in their pockets. I kept the observation to myself but something told me that the kids wouldn't be the only people in Sanctuary getting gifts for the holidays. Knowing David would be upset at missing the opportunity to pick up something, I grabbed a scarf that I thought Rose would like. He wouldn't want Rose to not get something when the other women were getting things. If he winds up not giving it to her because he wants to do his own "shopping" that's fine too. Whatever works, but at least he won't feel left out. I'll tell the other guys they can pick something out of the tubs as well once I get things organized if they want to.

I thought Scott would drool as much as the dogs as we passed the wooden roller coast called Gwazi. I know he was imagining all that he could build with a supply of wood and bolts that big. He looked at me and made a mock dramatic sigh that nearly had me giggling out loud. He and Angus have already been discussing projects and alternative building materials including an obvious one we had overlooked – using wooden telephone poles as beams or using them like Lincoln Logs by notching the ends so that they lock together. Scott had a few rude words for himself for not thinking of the poles. I don't know how he believes he is supposed to think of everything. Besides, in the beginning we all kind of had an expectation that things would eventually go back to normal. Phone lines and electrical lines are part of "normal" infrastructure so why would we intentionally compromise them as building supplies. But nobody thinks normal is going to come back any time soon any more. And even if it does, it's going to be years before we get there.

Scott tried to help Angus by giving him a few suggested locations to look at that might fit the description of what he wants for a place to call home; multi-storied, concrete block, with enough flat roof for a garden. In fact, there are a couple of places like that between Sanctuary and the Feed Depot which would mean he would be close to us but still able to maintain his independence and come and go as he pleased. The question will be how much interior work needs to be done on those buildings to support a roof top garden.

The volume of animal noise picked back up as we passed into the bird gardens. It was a defeaning as I had thought it would be. Suddenly a bass roar could be heard and the birds quieted down for a short period before picking right back up. Scott and I stopped short for a moment, our good humor evaporated. It was time to remember where we were and why we're here.

"What the hell was that?!" Waleski asked quietly, obviously close to being totally fed up with all the wild animals.

"Sounded like a male gator," Scott responded.

"I thought the gator pond was back the other direction," Cease said.

"It was."

"Then why is the sound coming from … oh. Right."

A flock of flamingoes, losing their pinkness now that they were no longer being fed the shrimp that turn them that color, hustled across the cobblestoned walkway.

Jerry piped up and said, "if I were us, I'd probably follow those birdies and avoid whatever it is they seem to be trying to get away from."

That's just what we did. We passed by the Hospitality House, now shuttered and closed. But it wasn't NRS that closed it. It was the Belgian takeover of Anheuser-Busch. They closed it supposedly in favor of a more family friendly atmosphere. All they did was make some of their adult patrons unhappy and less inclined to bring their children to an expensive park that had nothing to offer them. I found another one of the rolling trashcans and loaded it with stuff from the pizza parlor in that corner of the park; several #10 cans of pizza sauce, a few nice pans and utensils, and several containers of powdered garlic and grated parmesan cheese. Another rolling trashcan I filled with stuff from the gift shops.

On the other side of the bird gardens we could have taken the bridge and gone back into Stanleyville but we decided to bypass it and go into the backstage area on this side of the park. This was the location of the physical plant and the main warehouse.

Rats had gotten into both places. I had to put my mask and goggles on because I was determined to leave no stone unturned. The only thing in the physical plant that hadn't been looted or destroyed was a large supply of canvas aprons and head scarves. These were pieces of the uniform used by food service personnel in the park. I filled a whole trashcan full of them and left the building. We had better luck in the warehouse though you could see the rats had been to work in there as well.

No fresh food remained in the warehouse. If there had been any it was eaten by the rats so long ago that not even evidence of scraps remained. However, there were plenty of metal cans. There were #10 sized cans of pizza sauce, puddings, fruit fillings, vegetables, and ice cream toppings like butterscotch and caramel sauces. There were metal containers filled with baking supplies. There were large, heavy metal sheet pans that could be used like shields. There were lots of empty five gallon buckets, although the rats had chewed a few. There were glass, gallon-sized jars of pickled fruits and veggies, some of peppers, and some of relishes. There were also some metal drums of cooking oil and several black plastic barrels containing things like Greek Peppers, olives, soda syrups, and even several small barrels of chocolate sauce.

We loaded all we had gathered onto several large flatbed carts and headed back into the park proper by coming out behind the roller coaster Sheikra. Doing so we had to pass by one of the main security booths.

The booth contained two corpses. One an obvious suicide as the nearly skeletal hand still propped a gun barrel in the corpse's mouth. The other it was difficult to say what had killed him or her; the rats had mangled it pretty badly. The suicide was in a Busch Gardens Security uniform. The other corpse had a uniform of some type but it was difficult to tell what it had originally been, the rats making little difference between material and flesh. It was also difficult to tell whether the two corpses had even died during the same time period. There were no handy pathologists around and we were just about guessed out at that point.

Dixon emptied the booth of all remaining ammo, even offering some to Angus, but left the gun after seeing that it as rusted and caked from the suicides bodily fluids. We grabbed a couple of hand radios that were in the booth as well, hoping that even if they didn't work they would make for good spare parts. Mischief and Mayhem made their own opinion of the location clear by leaving a couple of doggie calling cards.

Once back in Stanleyville we were all cautious but the baboon troop seemed to have lost its lust for fighting. We gathered the trashcan of supplies from there and then headed back to Vivi and picked up the supply pile there before all trooping back to the bus to stow our bounty. I caught one rat on the Vivi stuff but it hadn't figured a way into the sealed can yet. I didn't bother shooting it or even slicing it with the machete. I punted the football-sized body several yards to the sound of a satisfying squeak and thump when it landed. Mischief wanted to chase pretty bad but Mayhem kept her heeled even though he wanted to play chase with it as well.

Getting all of the flatbeds over the railroad tracks was a little challenging but we did. And when we got back to the bus, the ramp really came in handy. We just pushed and pulled the flatbeds up the ramp and tied them in place inside the bus and blocked the wheels to keep them from rolling while we were in motion.

At this point we had thought to walk back into the park until Dixon asked Angus what his mode of transportation was. We all were kinda blown away when he said, "Garbage truck. It's parked over at the main gate."

After a quick consultation we decided that it made more sense for us to drive over to the main gate and pick up the rest of the supplies from that location. This would also set us up to leave as a convoy more quickly, saving us some time. Scott drove the bus and explained to Angus the different modifications that had been made. And also some of the modifications that he wanted to make like mounting swivel chairs for the gun turrets rather than a bolted-in-place stool.

Despite a few road blocks, it didn't take us that long to get over to the main gate. We just barely squeaked under the overpass though. The gun turrets took a lot of our clearance space. And then there was Angus' truck in all its glory. It was a standard city garbage truck with a front loader for dumpsters. He explained that he could scoop up any number of zombies with open sided dumpster that he had welded in place and them dump them into the part in the back that squished them up. Angus figured he could fit just in excess of 100 zombies in the compactor before it needed to be emptied. The bonus was that the compactor didn't dribble body fluids; everything remained contained until he found a safe place to make the dump that wouldn't compromise any water sources.

I was gagging at the graphic description but Cease, Scott, and Jerry were fascinated by the contraption. Even Dixon looked impressed. Waleski liked that Angus was health conscious enough to avoid contaminating resources and I think that went a long way to sealing his good opinion of the man. We disembarked from the bus and secured it, but allowed both bus and garbage truck enough room to turn around on their own if need be.

Jumping the turn-styles of the main entrance we headed back through Morocco to pick up the supply piles we had left there, in Egypt, and then the stuff from Nairobi. Once all was loaded on the bus, and with no incidences to speak of beyond being dive bombed by some young chimpanzees when we passed the Myombe Reserve area, it was time for the other reason why we were there. The hunt.

It's been years since I've been hunting. Scott would go with my dad and brother on occasion, but the time it took to run our business pretty much precluded hunting as a serious sport for us. Dad would bag us a buck every year he went to visit my uncle so I know how to cook and preserve venison. My understanding is that venison and antelope are not that different.

That's what we were apparently going for today. African antelope. Although a water buffalo wouldn't be turned away either. We had a couple of different antelopes that we might've been able to bag. There was the impala that was about 36" at the shoulder, very agile, but not long runners. There was the kudu which was a larger animal, standing 57" at the shoulder and it avoided using concealment rather than agility. The waterbuck is nearly as big as the kudu. The Oryx is smaller than the waterbuck but a male can weigh up to 500 pounds. Then there was the other potential game like the ostriches that were running rampant in the pretend savannah area of the park. Or maybe even a zebra, though the sound of that doesn't tickle my tastebuds at all.

As you can guess I got most of that information off the little plaques they had stationed throughout the nature trail around Rhino Rally and Edge of Africa displays. I had thrown in some postcards and animals books just for Sarah and Samuel. I'm not sure what those two are going to say about what we brought home but they have gotten more prosaic about the animals being part of the food chain … our food chain.

Why is it me that always falls into the muck first? The men hadn't really wanted me along on the hunt. But none of the guys wanted to be left out either which meant I couldn't be left alone. Scott and I finally compromised and they had left me with the dogs near an empty pen while the big "he-men" went to play heap big Tarzan hunters.

Honestly? I really wasn't as upset as that makes me sound. I was more amused than anything. Not to mention I was more than a little tired and ready for a break. And to be truthful I'm not the best shot and have a tendency to "squeak" and make noises when I get scared or nervous. Nope, it didn't bother me at all not to have to deal with the guys rolling their eyes and holding onto their tempers when I accidentally scared off a potential target.

I was sitting on a picnic table watching a family of marmosets trying to play inconspicuous up in one of the trees, and trying to remember if I'd ever seen a marmoset at Busch Gardens before, when the dogs started making these woofling sounds and digging around this big rock. The last thing I needed was for Angus to think I let his dogs get into trouble so I went over to see what they found so interesting. Holy crap! The "rock" moved and turned out to be one of the huge tortoises that used to live in the pens on this side of the park. I finally convinced the dogs to leave the poor thing alone – it was huge and must have been one of the really old ones – and come sit back down with me. I turned to go back to the table and splat, down I went again.

Geezley crow! I was eye to eye with either a boa or a python. I didn't know then and still don't care to be honest. I'm not scared of snakes or anything but I do have a healthy respect for them. And this one … it was longer than I was tall. Luckily the large bump in its middle let me know it had eaten recently and likely wouldn't be interested in me or the dogs.

The dogs, not liking the snake much more than I did, each grabbed the end of my pants and pulled me backwards and then got between me and it. I swear those are some smart dogs. They were also smart enough to not do much more than growl low in their throats. Eventually the big snake decided to find another place to take a nap and sleep off its dinner. Just hope it wasn't anyone that I knew.

I decided that the top of the picnic table was a much better place to be and had the dogs get up there with me. With an arm around each one I felt much safer being up off of the ground. No sooner had my heart returned to beating its normal rhythm than I spotted not one, not two, but three good sized komodo dragons slouching along. Could I have my heart attack now and get it over with?!

I kept a firm grip on the dogs' collars. They were inclined to stay with me which was a good thing. If they had really wanted to take off they probably could have dragged me for hours before getting tired. Eeeewwwww. I have had enough of nature to last me a good while. I nearly stopped breathing while the smallest dragon went right under the table I was setting on, thumping its tail on the leg brace.

By that time I was almost to the point of having hysterics. I'm no chicken. I really am not and the dogs were there, but come on, tell me what person in their right mind can just sit with equanimity while those kind of critters stroll by like they own the place? I finally climbed up on a real fake bolder and dragged the dogs up there with me.

What scared me about the dragons was that they headed off in the same direction that the men had gone. Not ten minutes later I heard the first shot, then another, then a third all in quick succession. I kept waiting for the men to come back; the area wasn't all that big after all. This wasn't really the plains of Africa. About twenty minutes after the first series of shots I heard two more and then a single shot about 30 minutes after that.

I was starting to get really cold and only the body heat from the dogs kept me from shivering uncontrollably. We were having our first major cold-snap of the season and on top of worrying about the guys, now I was starting to worry about my plants back in Sanctuary.

The men had been gone over an hour and it had been at least twenty minutes since the last shot sounded when I heard them coming back. Lordy they looked pleased with themselves. They were pulling the carcasses of three impala, an oryx, and a kudu.

The dogs jumped off the bolder nearly taking me with them and headed straight for Angus to sniff him and give him a good doggie scolding for being gone so long. Scott the happy hunter said, "Hope you weren't too bored."

"What, me, bored? Oh no, not at all. I got to play African safari and count the animals … and Cease what the heck do you think you are doing with that ostrich?!"

Cease had just come around the corner with a big, goofy grin on his face leading an ostrich by a lasso around its neck and belly. "Son, when we read that part in The Swiss Family Robinson you do realize that was just a story right? You can't really saddle an ostrich and ride it."

"Oh come on Sissy, don't you think the kids would get a kick out of … "

"You guys are not seriously expecting us to get an ostrich in the bus are you?!" I asked looking around at the men who all refused to meet my eye.

"Well, we could put it in my trailer," Angus pointed out. "The dogs ride up front with me anyway."

Good gravy. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I wouldn't have believed it. Six grown men wanting to bring home an ostrich as a pet. What was I supposed to say, even Dixon looked like a kicked pup when it didn't appear that I shared their enthusiasm.

"If you want it, you take care of it. And I don't want to hear a single other word about it. And if that thing so much as looks at me funny I'm going to be designing some ostrich recipes."

We hauled the spoils of the hunt out to the bus, loaded as best we could into the coolers and chest freezer we had stuffed into the bus and then proceeded to try and coax a suddenly unwilling ostrich into Angus' trailer. I finally managed to wrap a bandana around its head in the hope that ostrich and chickens at least had one thing in common … what they couldn't see didn't scare them. After that Orville the Ostrich was a breeze to load.

It was really getting chilly at this point, probably low 50s and the sun hadn't even gotten near setting yet. We might even have a freeze tonight which is why I'm still awake writing this account … well, that and other things.

We explained our route to Angus and we set off making our slow way back to sanctuary. We ignored the few zombies we saw though they didn't want to ignore us. Angus would make the occasional jag to the right or left to scoop up a zombie or two and dump them into his compactor.

The whole way back home I had to listen to the great white hunters tell me about their feat of prowess. Actually it did sound pretty cool after I had warmed up and gotten over being miffed. I'll have to write it out later after everyone has had their chance to explain their part to me. As it is we have more important things to deal with at the moment.

As we came within site of Sanctuary we noticed that they had the tow truck out near the front gate and a whole lot more smushed up zombies than there had been when we left. James was signaling from the main guard tower telling us to enter by the rear gates. It wasn't easy for us to make the turn but we did and headed back to the rear gate via a couple of back roads. Once there we pulled into the compound enough so that Mr. Cuddy could also pull in and park his garbage truck and trailer beside the bus.

There were a lot more people in Sanctuary than there should have been; at least four or five dozen more, a handful of them kids. I still haven't got the number sorted out. Most everyone was milling around the hospital. As soon as they knew we had returned Rachel and Rose were frantically waving for Waleski to come lend them a hand.

We stepped off the bus into a madhouse; women wailing, kids crying, animals making a ruckus, and generally a lot of people running around like chickens with their heads cut off. McElroy jogged up to Dixon and reported.

"Sometime last night all hell broke loose in Hale Hollow. Survivors says it's been like WW3. It started with an assassination and armed combat between the two remaining factions. Death and zombies followed. Some folks tried to get over to Ehren Cutoff for helped but found a mess there too. Hyenas and zombies. About midday we started having groups straggle in here but we've also been dealing with zombie hordes coming down out of the north and not all of them from those two compounds. Matlock needs some help dealing with an old Colonel that seems determined he has "seniority of command" or something like that despite the fact he's been retired a good twenty years."

That's basically it. We've been trying to help the injured and dealing with the dying. Mr. Cuddy was kind enough to work with Cease and Jerry to process the meat into the cold room we set up and I've been making sausage and canning by firelight and getting stuff ready to go into the smokehouse. I ran the last batch a couple of hours ago and it must be about two AM now. We finally sorted family groups into some of the empty houses but we wouldn't let any of the injured, severely or otherwise, go anywhere except in the hospital or in tents right outside the hospital where they could be watched for signs of turning. We've already had to put three people down. Call us brutal but what else are we supposed to do? We'll try and bury them out in the orange grove tomorrow if their family consents, if they have families.

The zombies are getting worse and we probably got in during one of the last pauses between waves before the main horde showed up. Sanctuary is surrounded. We've sent out a warning to anyone listening on the radio and several folks called back their thanks. The New Geraci group said they have holed up in a concrete out building and will keep in touch as they are able. It's been a while since we've heard from them so who knows what their status is.

Tina has lost it completely. Rachel, taking a break to drink the next gallon of coffee to stay awake, said that her breakdown was even worse than Patricia's was. So bad in fact that she has become completely incontinent and may very well have suffered a stroke or something. That's another situation that we'll have to deal with. Her husband is distraught but doing his part to help defend Sanctuary and its denizens.

We have men all over the Wall. No one is shooting though, it would be a waste of ammunition. The horde may move on, it may not. Lot's of things that we'll have to see about in the morning when there is light enough to see. We are catching sleep when we can but at first light I plan on having as many pots of high-octane coffee and tea ready as I'm able to fix. Breakfast will be biscuits and scrapple. What a mess this is. We don't even have enough dishes to serve everyone at the same time even if we wanted to. Our group has more than doubled in size in less than 24 hours and there is no way we can support that, especially not if this weather kills back my garden. How do we explain to these people they aren't going to be able to just stay here?

I'm going to doze for an hour or two and hopefully we'll be able to find some constructive solutions to our problems in the morning.


	68. Day 109

Day 109

What frustrating days this has been; scary too, but definitely frustrating. I suppose it could have been worse. It could have been a heck of lot better though; this certainly hasn't been my favorite days in recent history.

First off I guess I better get down what happened in Hale Hollow and Ehren Cutoff or nothing else will make sense. We got most of the details from Col. Byrd and his son and daughter-in-law. Turns out that the Colonel really is a cool dude with an exemplary service record but he's in the early stages of dementia and stress can make his confusion worse.

Hale Hollow used to be a great community to live in prior to NRS. The homeowner's association (HOA) wasn't a burden, the neighbors were great, and the community provided a happy place for retirees and other families. It had a mixed population with a broad range of ages, income levels, and interests.

Then the economic crisis that began in late '08 began breaking down their safe haven. The unprecedented combination of deflation in some markets and hyperinflation in others caused job losses, bankruptcies, foreclosures, and any number of hardships. Their haven gradually turned into a hell of vacant and uncared for homes and yards. The now unmanned security gates did nothing to keep out the vandalism of empty homes nor break ins of occupied ones.

The once laid back and amendable HOA that had stayed out of everyone's business so long as they weren't a nuisance became rigid and militant. Everyone let it happen just so they could have the illusion of safety. Then the NRS plague struck.

The Hale Hollow HOA leadership became the leaders of a survivor's community; and for a while it worked. But ultimate power corrupts ultimately. Those that didn't fall in line fell by the wayside or were forced out. People died. Schisms occurred. New people came in but were forever outsiders.

A ragged stranger named Jeremiah Lawrence staggered into the community one day bringing with him a vast knowledge of NRS. He gave them new ways to deal with the zombies and new ways to organize their community; and for a while it worked.

Then a major power struggle within the original HOA leadership led to a schism that nearly rent the community in two. One group left Hale Hollow forever and the other stayed continuing the status quo. The group who left included Jeremiah Lawrence but they had the bad luck of having too many chiefs and not enough braves. Everyone wanted to be boss and too few were willing to do the work.

This imbalance finally caught up with them in the form of a zombie attack. Overnight they lost 75% of their group and Lawrence became "Brother Jeremiah," falling deeper and deeper into his delusions. But the man was also charismatic enough to now begin drawing his own followers independent of Hale Hollow. And so Ehren Cutoff became a distinct community of its own, all be it still closely tied out of kinship and necessity to Hale Hollow.

And the Hale Hollow leadership watched Ehren Cutoff's transformation and learned from their mistakes. The remaining Hale Hollow HOA leaders decided to develop in the opposite direction; and for a while it worked. The community grew by leaps and bounds. There was the appearance of success for all. People living in Hale Hollow followed their leaders blindly, offering obedience in exchange for safety, shelter, and food. They trusted them to do the right thing.

But power without balance is a poison. Trust turned to tyranny. Safety to censorship. A police state was born where rights were abused. And for a while it worked … until it became your rights that were being abused.

Cracks is the façade of affability began to appear. The leaders of Hale Hollow saw this as a form of ingratitude for all that they had done; of treason against the deserving powerful. They tried everything tyrants have tried since the beginning of time; and this time it didn't work.

Someone smuggled in a gun … they had to smuggle it because the community had allowed their guns to be taken away from them. The leadership would protect them after all. Hadn't they appointed that special unit to watch over them?! Sure that group had extra privileges and didn't always apply the rules consistently. Sure their friends seemed to do better than their enemies. But it was all for the best. Right?

Then one night someone couldn't take the injustice any longer and killed one of the heads of the hydra that had sprung up in their midst. And two more grew in its place. Another head fell and another two grew. Soon however there were too many heads and not enough brains … and no one was watching the gates.

The dead and dying inside Hale Hollow called to the dead outside. It's possible that Hale Hollow would have fallen even had they been at full strength but we'll never know. They never tried and it was a massacre. Over two hundred people dead in a matter of hours.

The few who did escape headed to Ehren Cutoff thinking they were brothers-in-arms. Members of the same family. That they could join together to build a new and better community. It was not to be.

Brother Jeremiah finally believed too much in his how hype, his own invincibility, his own nascent godhood. The "devils" had come back every night despite the prayers of the faithful. They scratched at the doors seeking entry to the sacred domain; but the doors had kept them out. Until the night someone was careless. Or perhaps God had simply become weary of the blasphemy He witnessed and meted out his own judgment on the man who would be god.

This time the doors flew open. The "devils" paced down the aisle, hackles raised, "laughing" at the puny humans before them.

His true followers crying out for his protection, Brother Jeremiah turned on the intruders shouting exhortations and exorcisms that made no sense but gave the musky animals pause.

Then the leader, a large female who could just remember the thrill of a hunt on a real savannah in Africa when she was a cub and who had recently begun to train her clan on zombies, sniffed the air and smiled as only a dominant female hyena can.

With a lunge she pulled the man-thing who would be a god down and closed her massively powerful jaws on his face. Before he could finish his first (and last) scream her jaws bit down and his skull was crushed; arterial blood arcing onto the alter. The sacrificial blood only enflamed the beasts more.

That was the signal the remaining clan members needed to annihilate the good brother's faithful followers. Those that hadn't been that faithful, and there were a few that had begun to have second thoughts about their leader's mental state, lived by escaping to a concrete outbuilding with a metal door. That's where the survivors from Hale Hollow found them; in shock and without leadership, unable to make the simplest plans for their own continued existence.

The first wave of zombies hit pushing as many as could fit into the outbuilding. The press of bodies alone kept the door shut. Those that hadn't fit had died a gruesome and tortuous death. It was hours before anyone dared to see if the zombies had gone.

One of the remaining Ehren Cutoff members was a young man who had been with Brother Jeremiah on one of his excursions to Sanctuary. It became a place to go. A place to aim for. A dream of safety behind the big walls the young man described to the others.

Off they started. On foot it took hours for the first of them to make it to Sanctuary. Before Matlock had a chance to decide whether they were lying about their circumstances or not James, using a telescope, spotted the next wave of zombies overtaking the stragglers that were furthest away.

Matlock brought the whimpering vestiges of Hale Hollow and Ehren Cutoff in and sent the F350 to bring in as many as they could pick up. The panicked people were like drowning swimmers. They nearly overwhelmed McElroy, coming close to destroying their own rescue. David and Hank got into the tow truck and did their best to give the last of the stragglers a running chance. There were several ragers in that wave of zombies and despite the best efforts of the rescuers, there were some that never made it.

The young man who had told the others about Sanctuary was one of the ones worst injured. He had fought off a zombie who had been trying to rip out the throat of a child abandoned in the middle of the road. At the end, before the infection overwhelmed his humanity and forced Rachel to use the undertaker's tool smuggled out by Jerry, he kept apologizing for believing in Brother Jeremiah. "I just wanted this mess to actually mean something. For there to be a higher purpose. I just wanted to forget about the hell of this life and believe in a heaven in the next. There has to be some reward for surviving doesn't there? Doesn't there?!"

He was the first of three in the small pool of survivors that had to be sanitized. Another was a woman who had a heart attack and the third was a man that seemed simply to give up and sit down and die.

We still have two in the hospital that aren't responding to treatment. We've stopped using our medical resources on them and have simply made them as comfortable as possible and await their final disposition.

There was a fourth death but that one will be told when it is time.

The day after the hunt was as chaotic as any I have experienced in a long time. Too many people in what felt like too little space. It reminded me of the days in the beginning, before we even had created the concept of Sanctuary; when we had over 30 people in our home.

We actually have enough physical space in Sanctuary to accommodate the extra people; but it was a case of too many, too soon. I'm sure I was not alone in the feeling of near claustrophobia. Everywhere I turned there was someone needing or wanting something; strangers grabbing at me for attention and getting inside my personal space. We were even forced to lock the doors of all the buildings within the walls, including our home because people started staking out "their space" and "their stuff."

I quickly learned that politeness and manners did not work. Many of the Hale Hollow survivors lacked boundaries. They seemed insatiably curious about everything and many had expectations that we would simply give them supplies to replace what they had lost. I despised the entitlement mentality that had run rampant before the NRS plague. I had even less tolerance for it now.

Matlock and Dixon were quick to realize the potential for disaster. By midmorning the survivors of Hale Hollow and Ehren Cutoff were given work assignments; man, woman, and child. No one was excused without the word of Rachel or Waleski. When several of the men said they hadn't traded one set of dictators for another Dixon finally snapped. It was not a pretty sight.

He must have expected something like this would occur and had made plans accordingly. All it took was a hand gesture and Cease, McElroy, June, and Scott rounded up the malcontents and marched them to the front gate.

In the best First Sergeant's bellow I had heard in many years Dixon's voice rang out, "Your choice. Obey, or leave."

One of the women in the crowd cried out, "You can't do that!"

"Madam, we can and we will. This is not a debate. This is not your home. Sanctuary is ours. We've opened up our home for your safety. We have willingly provided you food and medical attention out of human charity. However, we will not be taken advantage of."

At this point Matlock stepped forward while Dixon worked hard to control his temper. "Look around you. We worked to get where we are. Nothing has been handed to us. We started with less than you lot. We're not simply going to give it away or watch you trash it with you lack of consideration. You are guests, very temporary ones. You had best remember that."

Dixon closed the discussion by saying, "We can do this easy or hard. Easy means you follow our rules, do your part, behave civilly and keep your hands to yourself, and take part in protecting Sanctuary while you are within these walls. Hard means you take a trip over the Wall and get to see if the zombies are better hosts."

There was a lot of mumbling and grumbling but the point had been made. And it was emphasized when they realized that even our children could shoot a slingshot well enough to kill a zombie … or any other opportunistic nuisance.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it but one reason why Scott and I owned our own business is because you could say he doesn't always "play well with others." He's not unsociable or a curmudgeon; he simply has a low tolerance for certain types of people and situations. Over the years he's been forced to learn a certain amount of tolerance, but some instances still make his psyche feel like someone is running fingernails across a chalkboard and he has to get away.

The warning signs were out and flashing frantically before I could even get lunch off the fire. David, not as disturbed by the Hale Hollow bunch now that Dixon and Matlock had laid the ground rules, came to tell me that Scott and Angus were up in the far NW guard tower with James.

I set Sarah (out of the hospital for the first time since the tiger attack) to reading the next chapter of Robinson Caruso to the children that had gathered on our lanai. I asked Bekah not to let her get over tired and to take over if she needed a rest. Patricia, herself too overwhelmed by the crowd to be out amongst them, said that she would be around if the girls needed her.

After that was taken care of I poured a thermos of fresh coffee and filled my speckleware pail with the chili I had made using chunks of impala. I stuck some mugs, bowls, utensils, and a loaf of fresh baked bread in a tote. Lastly I grabbed a large canteen of water and trudged with the whole load through the orange grove and around one of the ponds to the base of the guard tower. It was time to calm the savage beasts by offering them something to fill their bellies. I knocked letting them know I was on my way up and then climbed the stairs.

James met me half way and took the pail and thermos to lighten my load. Three growls met me when I finally put my foot on the landing; stomach growls. I chuckled quietly and passed around bowls of chili, sliced bread, and their choice of beverage.

The chilly breeze reminded me to be thankful that there hadn't been much more than a dusting of patchy frost the preceding night. The weather had done less harm to the garden than the irresponsible feet of some of our "guests." The smell that came on the breeze reminded me to be thankful we had finished our Wall. Easing over to the side I looked over to see hundreds, maybe a thousand or more, zombies.

"Where did they all come from after all this time?" I whispered.

"Notice how many of them are wearing jailhouse orange?" Scott asked. "A prison may have fallen recently or it simply took this long for them to migrate this direction."

Indeed, the orange jumpsuits of the Florida prison system made up roughly a third of what the zombies were wearing.

"I haven't ever seeing so many ragers in one place. And every rager we've seen has had one of them orange jumpsuits on," Angus added.

And James said, "The orange makes 'em easier to snipe in the crowd. Matlock has ordered us Sharp Shooters to give the ragers sanitation priority whether we have a silencer or not. It's just they are pretty packed together right now."

"As soon as we clear out as many ragers as we can, Angus has invited me to take a ride in Juicer," Scott grinned.

Oh boy, I knew that grin. Turning to Angus I said, "I assume … uh … Juicer … is your truck."

"Kinda fitting. Wait 'til you see her in action. She's a real thing of beauty."

I obviously wasn't going to be changing their minds, you could tell by the wicked delight and expectation on their faces. I sighed, gathered up the dishes once they had finished eating and simply asked, "Come tell me bye before you take off."

"Will do Babe," he said, kissing me soundly, likely as a reward for not squeaking about his plans.

Angus wolf whistled and Scott laughed, "Go get your own."

James just rolled his eyes at the incomprehensibility of adults.

Not too long after the last person in Sanctuary had eaten their portion of lunch, Scott came to tell me he and Angus were heading out. Dixon himself made sure the garbage truck's fuel tank was topped off. You could tell he longed to take a ride as well but knew his place was temporarily at least still within the Wall.

They were leaving by the rear gates. The problem was those gates were nearly as clogged with zombies as the front gate was. McElroy and David have been setting up some contraption of their own over the last few weeks and they helped to distract enough of the zombies so that Juicer could get out without letting more than a couple of zombies in. Those were quickly sanitized.

I don't understand all the engineering and electrical work involved but basically they took smoke alarms, removed the "smoke" part, and made them louder. They hooked them up so that they could be set off remotely with coded signals using a radio. I thought they were wasting time when they first started building their "toys" but I've become a firm believer. When those noise makers started going off it was only a few minutes before Angus and Scott could leave in Juicer.

My gut was in a knot watching them leave. Mischief and Mayhem sat close beside Butch and Sundance, all four dogs extremely unhappy to be left behind. At first the truck rolled over more zombies than it scooped up. After they had completely cleared the gates however it became obvious Angus had considerable practice at utilizing Juicer and that he was raring for the challenge this horde presented.

He started on the outside edge of the horde, scooping up anywhere from five to two dozen at a time in the front loader. When the front loader was full he would dump its load in the compactor. The compactor appeared to hold a hundred to a hundred and fifty squished zombies in a load. Maybe a few more if the load held very decayed zombies.

When the compactor was full they had to run it down to our dumping ground about five miles off to the northeast. The dumping ground was little more than a long trench we had dug using a back hoe that was lined with visqueen, a heavy-duty pliable plastic sheeting. It's far from a perfect solution but there isn't an incinerator handy and we can't just leave corpses lying around or NRS won't be the only plague we have to deal with.

Scott said that was the worst part. It was like dumping rotted orange pulp. It didn't all want to slide out, and when it did there was this disgusting plop, splash, plop that could be heard even over the big truck's engine, not to mention the smell would gag a maggot.

Angus and Scott used and emptied Juicer multiple times until dark was less than an hour away. Again the sound traps were used to allow them through the gates. They had easily halved the number of zombies in the horde and planned to finish up the rest the next day.

But we awoke the next day to find another horde had joined the first during the night. Now we had even more zombies than before to deal with. Matlock told me he estimated there was around three thousand in the morning and despite Angus' best efforts by late afternoon there was closer to four thousand as straggler groups continued to join the main horde.

We had begun to worry that the press of zombies against the Wall was going to compromise it so when we weren't on work details we all spent time combing the Wall for potential gaps. The only one found was near the front gate. The sheer number of zombies had pushed a steel container a few inches out of line with the next one to it.

Those of us inside Sanctuary slept fitfully that night wondering how many zombies there would be when we woke up.

No new zombies had been added overnight. In fact the horde had thinned with those on the extreme outer edges losing focus and moving on sometime during the pre-dawn hours. The guards said it was like listening to the rustle of unnatural leaves blowing away on the wind.

Angus, this time with McElroy who adored Juicer and was determined to build its twin, set out after a breakfast of toasted Spam, egg, and cheese sandwiches.

Because the horde was so tightly packed, more zombies could be scooped up at a time. By lunch the horde's number had been cut in half. By dark barely 50 remained and those seemed confused and directionless. Because of this they didn't clump together and were more time consuming to scoop up.

Rather than waste fuel, the marksmen on the Wall took over at that point and Juicer and its driver came in to resounding cheers of enthusiasm. I think no matter where Angus ultimately chooses to live, he'll be a welcome addition to the community. Certainly Mischief and Mayhem were happy to have him back under their watchful eyes. A yard full of children were all well and good to play with for a while but it was The Man who had found them, washed and doctored their wounds, and kept them fed since the bad-stinky-things had killed their other masters.

We all slept better last night. It's not that things are suddenly right in the world, it's just that things have been broken down into more manageable pieces. Sanctuary may have received most of the focus of the main horde but there were and are still plenty of zombies wandering around. At that point we hadn't even heard from New Geraci and still haven't the Driscoll Compound. MacDill had begun reporting a higher than normal zombie count the day before but there has been only silence from them since.

Today has brought us a different set of problems.

Once the zombies had been cleared it was time for the Hale Hollow refugees to leave. That was much easier said than done for a variety of reasons. There were six children in the group, five of them claimed by families and one a little orphan girl no one seemed to want. We would have offered the families with children a place here in Sanctuary if their parents hadn't been amongst the biggest trouble makers. Everyone kept asking us what they were supposed to do, how were they supposed to survive once we "kicked them out."

Then mid-morning the remnants of the New Geraci group showed up expecting help and to take shelter with us as well. Their compound was a complete loss after it became the focus of several ragers.

On top of that the two groups acted like male dogs after the same bitch; snapping and snarling at each other until I was ready to tear my hair out.

After listening to too much shouting and lamentations from the two groups we finally managed to convince them none of them were staying. We would feed them one more meal and then they were going to be on their way … willingly or not. In the end we had to put them out the gate one at a time with a frisking because they tried to take so much with them that wasn't theirs. We allowed them to leave with what they had arrived with and nothing more. One woman had even tried to hide stuff in her baby's diaper which really was the last straw for me. How low can you go?

We had thought to ferry them back to Hale Hollow in the bus but after a threat by one of their newly elected leaders to take what they wanted, by force if necessary, the offer was summarily withdrawn. Not even a quick new election and a new, more diplomatic leader caused us to relent.

There were only two families we did quietly offer a home to but they both turned us down. Col Byrd and his family and then the man named Greg from the New Geraci group because he and his wife had quickly adopted the little orphan girl as quickly as they heard she had no one to protect her. Both families had high quality members with sound leadership skills. It was Col. Byrd's unique take that summed up their refusal.

"Your group already has enough roosters for this hen house. We'll travel back to Hale Hollow with this flock of chickens and see if we can't help 'em find their heads before everyone pecks each other to death."

It was mid-afternoon before we lost sight of the last stragglers walking up US41. James used his spyglass to tell us that they at least crossed SR54 all in one piece. Despite everything I hope they make it. But, it could be weeks or longer before we know.

It felt as good as the first stretch of the morning to have Sanctuary back to ourselves. We were in a jolly mood even faced with the mess that the refugees left us to clean up. No sooner had I begun to check over the garden for unsalvageable damage than Rose, now assigned to help Rachel and Waleski almost full time, came running at full speed. I thought she had come to get me but she didn't even stop but ran passed and up to her Dad and some of the other men who made a quick grab for Jack whose knees had started to buckle. This wasn't good.

It had to have something to do with Teri. Again turning and running back the way she had come Rose stopped only long enough to tell me that Rachel needed some help.

I made the door just as Dixon and Matlock's long strides got them there as well. The smell in the hospital was awful. Even with the windows raised I could smell vomit and loose bowls. Standing in the kitchen I saw the cabinet that held the narcotics had been torn off its hinges and several bottles were open and on the countertop.

Rose called, "Mom, in here. Hurry."

I ran to one of the back bedrooms to find Rose trying to help Rachel who was holding her forearm close to her chest. There was blood everywhere.

The one time I finally thought to grab for my pistol I didn't need it. "Mom, the blood isn't hers, its Teri's. Help me get her on the table and get these clothes off of her so I can see how bad things are."

Having my daughter order me around like this was surreal. She was my daughter and yet she was something more. My chest expanded with pride and I was so glad that Scott and I had taken the time to get her apprenticed to Rachel and Waleski. And even with the last vestiges of childhood now forever erased from her face, it was nice to note that it was still to me she turned when she needed help.

Dixon was trying to come in the door when Rose practically slammed it in his face. "We'll call you when and if we need you. Just help Waleski take care of the other problem please. He banged his head on the edge of the sink pretty hard."

Oh. Oh my. I would have given a whole lot to have seen Dixon's face at that moment but I had more important things to deal with.

We got Rachel up on the table and I could tell she was in a lot of pain. But there was terror in her eyes too. She looked at me pleadingly and said, "Don't let me turn into one of those things. God don't let me … Argh!"

Rose had moved her arm and was trying to slowly slide a thick BBQ glove off of it. The glove was one of a pair I remember finding and they were like thick firemen gloves.

"She was feeding the fire barrel out back so that we could burn some of these dirty bandages that had piled up. I was taking the vital signs of that lady restrained in room three when I heard a crash. Waleski, Rachel and I all came running from different directions. It sounded like something had fallen in the bathroom. Waleski entered first and slipped in puke. His head went down onto the rim of the sink. Rachel just had a glimpse of Teri before she tried to rip into Waleski's arm that he was using to try and stand back up with. Rachel bear-hugged Teri from behind and gave Waleski a chance to catch his balance. Just as he did, Teri bent over and bit down on Rachel's arm. They duck walked her into exam room one but Waleski round up having to … having to … "

I put a hand on her should. "Its OK honey."

"Waleski wound up having to pin Teri to the wall with that big auger bit that heart attack lady had been using as a cane. We hadn't had time to get rid of it. Teri wouldn't let go of Rachel's arm. He didn't have a choice. It was the only thing … "

She was pretty green but I got the picture. Rose had finally managed to remove the glove and we both sighed in relief to see that there was no broken skin. Rachel wouldn't believe us until we helped her to sit up and showed her. She broke down crying in relief. It was deja vu ... I remember Cease being the exact same way so long ago when he thought the zombie had bitten through his boot.

The door was practically being pounded off its hinges. "Better let them in or that doorframe is going to buckle."

I had just turned the knob when Dixon practically tore it from my hands. "Hey, take it easy. We said we'd call … " And then I got a good look at Dixon's face. He has that pale Nordic complexion going on even in the middle of summer but I swear it looked like all the blood had drained from his face. He was as white as fresh copier paper. He was also shaking so bad I thought it might be a good idea if someone took the gun from his hand which is what I tried to do. He looked at me and let it go and I quickly turned the thing over to Scott and Matlock who had also entered to the room.

Into this circus entered Patricia with impeccable timing. She looked at Dixon and then at Rachel and asked quietly, "Is she OK?"

I was the only one that managed to answer her. "Yeah, she's messed up but she's not going to turn if that's what you were asking."

Then she sighed, "God Dix, then stop standing there like a damn statue and go over to her will you. Rachel, you are really going to have your hands full."

You could have heard a pin drop. We all watched as Dixon and Rachel both gave Patricia the strangest look. She said, "What?! You expected me to say something else? I'm not blind you know. Deal with it." And then, "Dix, we'll figure out what to tell Samuel when we need to. Just … just go to her already, the tension is making me sick."

As Patricia left the room she gave me a look of mute appeal. I glanced at Scott and left the room and followed her out and into the orange grove where she finally broke down crying.

"God I hate this. I cry at the drop of a hat these days. Stupid hormones."

I just held her and let her cry. She said, "I told you I'd let you know when I had made up my mind."

"Yeah, but it still sucks doesn't it."

"God yes. And I still don't have a clue what's going to happen."

"None of us do. For right now why don't you let tomorrow take care of itself. I think you've taken enough of a huge step for a while. And you let Dixon do the talking to Samuel first. He's going to have some things to answer for and he's going to need to be the one to deal with the consequences."

"Oh, I'm not going to let him off the hook that easy. I'm no martyr," Patricia said in a watery chuckle. "But I don't want things to go bad between them either. He's a good Dad even if things didn't work out between us."

I led Patricia back to my house. Becky and Tina were standing there and it was apparent that the news had already travelled. The two women brought her into the house to lie down for a while and I returned to the hospital.

I'm still not sure what to make of Dixon and Rachel but I'll take my cues from Patricia since she was the one most injured in the triangle. I couldn't quite meet their eyes as I passed by them. They were billing and cooing and it was too hard for me to watch that bit of happily ever after. I went back to Rose who was in the exam room with Teri's now sanitized body. There was a bloody patch on the wall and it looked like Scott was measuring for a new section of drywall.

He said, "It's not worth the chance of painting over. I'll just cut it out and replace it. Angus said he and David would split my watch so I could go ahead and get it done."

I turned to Rose and asked, "What happened after Waleski pinned her and we took care of Rachel?"

"She was a fresh turn. It looks like she OD'd on some narcotics she stole from the medicine cabinet. Mom, she took two whole bottles, she meant to commit suicide."

Waleski walked in and said, "Yeah, and she did it on the last of our pain meds. If we don't find another source we're sunk."

"Wait. I thought Teri was in little more than a vegetative state."

"That's what we thought but it looks like she snapped out of it enough to decide she didn't want to be a part of this world any more. As long as she has apparently been an addict she had to have known that that number of pills was gonna kill her. I offered a sedative to Jack but he won't touch it. You got any of that special tea handy? He might be willing to do that. I think Teri's habit has given him a prejudice against all drugs."

"Ok, so Teri OD'd and then turned. What ... "

"She was a fresh turn Mom. She might have even been a potential rager. She had more strength than the really fresh ones normally do. And she was violent. Normally we have a better chance of sterilizing them."

Waleski added, "She was thrashing around so much I couldn't get a good bead on her skull to use the UT."

"The what?"

"It's shorthand for undertaker's tool. It's better than calling it a brain scrambler."

Obviously Waleski was returning to normal if he could be this ascerbic. God help Junie if they stick it out. "I'll see what I can do about Jack. And I'll also ask Dante' and Hank if they can come over and help you inventory the medicine cabinets to see if anything else is missing."

"Yeah. Yeah. That'll be good," he replied in a very tired and worn voice.

I left to go find Dante' who had one of the kids relay the message to Hank to come after his watch was over. From there I put a kettle of water on to boil and asked Becky, "Is anyone with Jack?"

"Believe it or not, Patricia is."

"What?!"

"Yeah. She says she doesn't want anyone feeling sorry for her and that the quickest way to make sure that everyone understands that her and Dixon's break up was mutual is to keep active and act as normal as possible."

"I never thought I would say this but Patricia is one gutsy lady."

Tina said, "I don't know. She still makes me uncomfortable. I can't help but remember how she used to be; before all of this NRS stuff I mean. She was definitely the privileged corporate queen."

I sighed, "We've probably all changed some. She's had a lot happen and not much of it good. Now she's pregnant and has no man around to help her through it. I certainly wouldn't trade places with her for love or money."

I took the tea kettle and tea over to the house that Jack and Teri had shared … when Teri had actually been well enough to live there that is. She spent more time in our hospital than in the house. It took a while for me to convince Jack that the tea wasn't drugged, even having to go so far as to drink a cup myself. He finally consented to have some. I reminded Patricia not to drink the herbal tea and handed her a couple of regular tea bags.

"Thanks," she said and then went back to patting Jack's hand as they sat at the little breakfast table by the window. As I was leaving she gave me a calculating look and said, "Sometimes you just have to let life happen."

I wasn't taking that particular thought any further. I had had more than enough drama to last me a good long while. Patricia was a grown woman. I just hoped she knew what she was doing.

At dinner than night we took stock, literally. Dante' and Hank reported on how much having the refugees here had depleted our supplies. The news wasn't good. It wasn't terrible either but it was going to take some work to bring things up to where they had been before. The hunt had definitely helped out so another one was scheduled for the not too distant future.

Angus was getting itchy feet to check out the places that Scott had told him of. He said, "It's been great to be with you folks but a little togetherness goes a long way for me. If I can, I'll use one of those locations and stay nearby but I do need some space."

We all understood, I think Scott in particular did. The kids on the other hand all said, "Aw, do you have to Uncle Angus?" Obviously he'd made some fans.

Angus looked at a loss so I told them, "It's not like he's not going to be coming for a visit now and again, but you have to remember, not everyone is made to live inside walls."

That appeased them, at least for the time being. I expect to have to have the discussion a few more times until the kids get used to Angus leaving and coming back on a regular basis.

We also discussed the need to find a new supply of narcotics. Jack looked guilty until Dixon reminded him that no one held him accountable for Teri's addiction. The loss of the drugs had hurt us though. We were less prepared to address a medical emergency.

The other reality we were facing was perhaps the worst of all. Our ammo had taken a severe depleting. We absolutely had no choice but to find some replacement rounds. The issue was so important we discussed going all the way across the county and trying our luck at MacDill.

Dixon didn't think that was too good an idea. One, if the base had been evacuated they would have taken all of the weapons and ammo. Two, if the base was still occupied it would let a potential enemy know how bad off we were. Three, that was miles and miles further away than we had ever been and would likely take more than a day or two to accomplish and until we knew if there would be any more problems with the remnants of the zombie horde it wasn't a good risk.

Then James mentioned what turned out to be the best idea of the night. "What about the Homeland Security offices and the Port Authority offices. Dad, remember when we went there with the troop? There were places we weren't allowed to go because they were too close to their guns and ammo."

Scott slapped his forehead and explained that while the Port of Tampa wasn't used by the military because of the number of cruise ships and international barges and ships constantly going and coming both Homeland Security and the Tampa Port Authority kept large numbers of personnel stationed and supplied in the area. They had some inconspicuous offices on Channelside Drive and some other ones right in the dock area itself.

So we now have plans to do two things. Tomorrow a group will go on another hunt and then the day after a contingent will head to the Port to see if we can find more ammo.

If it's not one thing it's another. My schedule is all shot to smithereens, but at least I'm alive to complain about it. It feels like it's trying to warm up again and I need to make sure that the garden is ready. I won't be going on the hunt tomorrow, I have too much else to do. Besides if … no, not if but when … when they bring home whatever they bag on the hunt I'm going to be working my tail feathers off.

I'm not sure who will be going down to the Port and we are all too tired to plan it right now. A lot may depend on what happens on the hunt. And speaking of, I'll try to write down a narrative of the first hunt tomorrow. I think I've just about heard everyone's side by now and have it straight.

Please, oh please, oh please let's just have a few quiet days. That's not too much to ask is it?


	69. Day 110

Day 110 (Saturday)

Oh, it is so good to be off my feet. I have been up since four this morning and going the whole time.

Breakfast was home fries with canned bacon and cheese mixed in and skillet toast that was browned in the bacon grease and a little butter for flavor. Before NRS that would have been a heart attack waiting to happen. These days with all the work we do, we can't seem to keep enough fat in our diets. Everyone has lost weight. I do my best to make sure the kids get a little extra but it isn't easy.

Our hunters left with the changing of the guards at 5:00 AM. Dixon offered to stand aside and let Matlock lead this one but Matt was more interested in drawing up plans to implement some of the additional elements for the Wall that Scott had talked about. He was also going to measure out a bombing range out in the orange grove and see if he could get a few homemade pipe bombs and hand grenades to work. When Dixon heard that he wanted to stay home and play too. Honestly, grown men and their strange toys.

Jerry had the beginnings of a miserable cold so Cease was going to need another marksman as a partner. Shock of shocks for me is that James was the one they picked. Apparently James isn't just blowing smoke when he talks about being a "sharp shooter." Dixon told me tonight that had he still been recruiting he would have recommended that he consider enlisting and eventually trying out for something called "Scout Snipers." I'm not sure what to make of that. On the one hand I'm proud and on the other hand it turns my mother's heart a little cold. I've had to fight really hard to let James be the man he is growing into … but I can still see my little boy if I look closely. Maybe I always will.

Scott and Angus also went of course. Angus 'cause you probably couldn't have kept him out of the jolliness and Scott because they needed someone that had the park's layout memorized in case they needed to use some of the backstage areas.

Junie was supposed to go but requested to stay in camp when a damp wind kicked up late last night and started her shoulder to throbbing hard enough that three extra-strength Tylenol didn't cut it by much. The only other four that could have gone at that point were Dante', Hank, Jack, and David. Dante' has a permanent limp from his broken leg and wouldn't do well if they needed to run. Hank knows even less about guns than I do. Jack wasn't really in any condition to go. He buried Teri last night in a private ceremony in a grave he dug himself in our little cemetery. We had all offered to help but he said that Teri didn't believe in anything and wouldn't have appreciated it. He appreciated the offer of our help and support but it was the last thing he could do for her so he wanted to do it alone. He's in a real fog and Patricia is the only one that seems to able to penetrate it.

That left David and even though he was just coming off guard duty when the hunting party left, he was wide awake and raring to go.

I guess someone might ask what about McElroy and Waleski. Because of Rachel's arm – not broken but badly bruised – Waleski needed to stay in case the two remaining patients in the hospital required sanitizing. Rose simply isn't up to the task yet.

McElroy's reason for not going is a little more embarrassing. Seems he had been using the old crow's nest lookout as a private getaway spot. But the floor of the former guard station up there wasn't very comfortable. He had made himself a good sized cushion out of Spanish Moss and had been sitting on it for a few days. Obviously McElroy isn't from the South. Spanish moss can be full of chiggers. The poor guy. And Waleski didn't help when he announced his ailment at the dinner table as a warning to others.

I had chiggers on my rear bumper area once when I was a kid. Trust me, once is all it takes. McElroy spent most of the day in and out of an oatmeal bath, calamine lotion, and Benadryl lotion. I can pretty much guarantee he'll think twice about what he sits on for the rest of his life.

So the hunting party was made up of Dixon, Scott, Angus, Cease, David, and James. If I knew them at all they were determined to not come back until they had caught their limit, or in this case caught all that would fit in the coolers and chest freezer.

I knew they would also come back hungry. That meant I needed to make sure there was plenty to eat. For lunch I made pimento cheese from blocks of Velveeta and served it on thick slices of fresh baked whole wheat bread. And while good, this made sure that everyone would be hungry come dinner.

Between raking and hoeing and weeding I supervised the kids cleaning and chopping enough root vegetables for a huge vat of stew that would be served after the hunters came home and had a chance to wash up. I figured to grab a bite to eat early and while everyone else was eating, get started on processing the meat.

Today was also Baking Day so the other women and I baked bread, crackers, cookies, pretzels, and made all the other items we normally made on this particular chore day. I know it sounds like a lot of work, and make no mistake it is, but it was also nice for us to be able to get back to our normal schedule. Well, normal for these times anyway.

The hunting party came back earlier than I had expected them to. I had forgotten they wouldn't be spending any time exploring Busch Gardens except to track animals. It was only about 3:00 PM.

They made better time on this trip and went straight to the front gates, parked, and secured the bus. The only thing different was a handful of zombies in the remote parking area. Thankfully none had made it into the park itself yet.

OK, tell me what I am supposed to do with warthog? Two warthogs?! They aren't listed in any of the wild game cookbooks I have. But since they look like a pig … sort of … I'm treating them like pork; kinda along the lines of wild boar which is in my cookbooks. Oh what I'd give to have the internet back for a couple of days, heck even a couple of hours. It's been a very difficult transition away from having near instantaneous information and answers at my fingertips. Thank the Lord I never got away from books completely.

Books lead me to mention Brandon's latest project. Not only is he Sanctuary's librarian, apparently he'll be our historian as well. Oh I know I have my journal and memory books but that's private stuff. Brandon is making a real production of it. And he's taking pictures. They're digital and then he prints them off on those camera gizmos. He'll eventually run out of ink and the right kind of paper of course but Josephine is a very good artist and has volunteered to help if he needs it. Budding romance? Not at all. I think those two were lost before NRS struck and they've simply begun to find themselves. It's certainly an interesting process to observe.

I'm listening to Sarah cough and it reminds me that she has taken a temporary turn for the worse. We had no choice but to move her out of the hospital. The refugees, some of them nasty, were just all over the place and needing immediate medical attention. We also didn't want her over there when the ones who died turned and had to be sanitized. But her resistance was down because her body was spending all its energy and then some healing her wounds. Add in the cool, damp weather and too much excitement and Jerry isn't the only one who got sick. I probably shouldn't have let her on the lanai but she is one of those people who gets depressed without enough sunlight. Scott and I thought bundling her up would be enough. We were wrong.

I expected a lecture from Waleski but he actually blamed himself saying they need to come up with a step-down plan to move critical patients out of the hospital and back into their homes. They were able to give Dante' and Junie their full attention for an extended period of time. Even Patricia's earlier issues got a lot of extended, hands on attention. But between Teri and then the advent of the refugees, and the fact that she didn't complain much at all, Sarah fell through the cracks. And now with the two possible sanitations still in the hospital to deal with it's not a good idea to move her back there again. They've had to add a decongestant to her treatment plan and I've already seen an improvement thank goodness. We'll just have to watch her more closely for a couple of weeks until her immune system has strengthened back up. I'm going to start her on the "Three Broths" plan tomorrow; a cup of chicken soup, a cup of broth made from greens, and a cup of broth made from garlic. She will also get a cup of apple juice and an extra vitamin tablet for at least two weeks just to be on the safe side.

Wow, I must be more tired than I thought. I realized I got completely off track from what I meant to write. The great hunters came home. I wrote about the two warthogs, but they also brought home another impala and they also got an eland (the largest of the African antelopes as I was informed by Samuel) that weighed in at 1300 pounds. Yep, one thousand and three hundred pounds. This thing was huge and was a real problem for them to get back to the bus and loaded. They wound up having to remove some of the offal and leave it behind just so they could fit the pieces into the buss. Even then we still wound up having to slaughter it like a cow; it was just that heavy. All of that meat should hold us for a while and it's a good thing too. The animals are getting harder to hunt. Scott thinks they are either being hunted by others or are getting smarter about surviving in the "wild." They are also spreading out.

When I asked him what he meant he said they spotted a rhino over in the grass that had grown up in the Tampa Industrial Park. Uh huh. And when I asked what they were doing over in the industrial park when they said they were just going to Busch Gardens I noticed a couple of attempted quick exits.

"James? David? Did you two have a good time today while you were … hunting?"

"Awwww. Come on Mom. Pick on somebody else. If I rat 'em out I'll never get to go on another … oh, man."

All I could do was laugh and turn back to Scott with my eyebrow raised. But even Dixon had one of those goofy grins guys get on their face when they've gotten away with behaving naughty.

I sighed, "You might as well spill it. You know I'll find out eventually."

A few other of the women had come over while we were talking. Becky said, "If she doesn't, one of us will. And I see you Matt. The look on your face is as bad as theirs so you must already know."

James and David were laughing at the older men getting caught. At least David was until he spotted Rose standing there with her arms crossed. He choked back his laugh real quick after that and tried to look contrite.

They were all trying … and failing miserably. It was apparent they'd had fun doing something.

Turns out "something" was raiding the Yuengling Brewery. I hadn't looked in the back of the bus because the men were bringing the meat to me. Honestly, you'd think I was an ogre wanting to spoil all their fun. Or I don't know, maybe half the fun was seeing if they could pull the wool over my eyes.

How is it that I turned into everyone's idea of a grumpy Mother Hubbard? I like to have fun too. Truth is I miss being carefree. I miss not really having to think about what I am going to fix for dinner or worry about running out of stuff permanently. I know for a fact that all of us women would love to have a girls' night out on the town. But where could we go and what could we do? We have too many responsibilities. No, I don't blame them for having fun. I just wish I could find a little of that for myself.

Maybe I'll shock everyone and dye my hair and get rid of this gray that has begun creeping in ever more quickly. Heck knows I need to do something about my clothes again too. I've cut them down and made them over just about as much as I can. I joke and laugh about the fact that I'm half the woman I used to be but in reality, it's scary not recognizing the woman in the mirror any more. It's scary starting to feel old right when I need all the energy I can find.

Whew! Enough of that maudlin crap. Scott still wants me … maybe more than before if that's possible … and the kids still call me mom. What more could I possibly ask for?

I'm done for tonight. I'm just going to staple in the story of the first hunt. I'd write it over and make it neater but I'm just too tired for "neat" tonight.

The following is a report on Sanctuary's first big game hunt as pieced together by Sissy Chapman after listening to the men talk about it … ad nauseum … for hours … and hours. Actually it was kinda neat to listen to what transpired and watch the guys get some real satisfaction out of what they had accomplished. I just had to forget about all the critters that I had been avoiding while they were off playing great white hunter.

Apparently no one was quite sure what they were getting into. The grass, while clipped in some areas where the animals had munched it down to the roots, was for the most part taller than even Dixon could easily look over. There just was not enough density of animals to compete with Florida's warm rainy season. The grass grew faster than the animals could eat it.

That made going forward that much more dangerous. Once they left the concrete sidewalks and got out of site of the gift shops and snack carts it seemed like they really were out in the African bush.

The impalas were first. The animals were so used to being fed by humans that even after nearly three months any human smell they might have caught a whiff of didn't disturb them too much. The guys had been watching them frisk about a bit and bounce around. Scott said it was almost a shame to kill them but then he thought of the kids and how thin they stayed even with us women doing all the cooking we could.

Scott's glasses were fogging up so he shook his head that he couldn't take the shot. Cease, Jerry, and Dixon all took an impala each in close succession but that really set the small heard to bouncing. Their .30-06 rifles didn't do too much damage and was relatively easy to clean out when we were processing the meat.

The impala all leapt away with a show of amazing agility. Some of their bounds easily reached 8 to 10 feet in height and probably twice that in length. It didn't take the little antelopes long to disappear from sight.

The shots had also started the other animals in the area. The men fanned out but stayed in sight of the man on either side of them. They slowly made their way through the tall grass but found nothing until they reached a miniature clearing around a tree. Standing right there scratching its horns against the trunk of the tree was a gorgeous scimitar oryx. It was a male and his horns were (are, they are mounted on the wall in the library as of today) beautiful. He stood about 36 inches at his shoulder and wound up weighing in at about 400 lbs. The white coat and russet face and chest caused him to blend in very well with the tall, dry grass.

Cease tried to take the shot but had a bee fly at his face right as he was pulling the trigger. Luckily Angus and his "Mauser" was able to bring the animal down. I think that's what he calls his gun anyway. Something about .308 but all I know is I could hear it when it went off so it must have been pretty loud. If I had been one of those animals they were hunting I would have gotten gone as fast as I could and stayed hid.

They decided to hang all four animals in the tree to keep the bugs off of them and hopefully keep any other predators away. They hadn't seen any sign of the lions or other predators that used to inhabit this part of the park but that didn't mean that weren't still around. They hadn't seen any fresh sign of scat either. Jerry later said he thought the big animals took off after easier food like domestic dogs and cats. They would also be more curious about exploring their environment and expanding their territory than the grass eaters would have been.

Scott said he was getting frustrated at that point 'cause he hadn't even taken a single shot. The 300 Winchester Magnum that he was carrying that day even had a special scope on it but it didn't do him any good if he couldn't see through it. His glasses are really turning out to be a problem and he wants to see if on my gathering runs I can find him some of that stuff that will keep his glasses from fogging up. What happens when those of us that wear glasses need new ones I'm really not sure. Scott and I both wear bifocals. It's a real concern and scary too. Neither Scott nor I can see at all until we put our glasses on in the morning. We have our spare sets but what if our eyes get worse? Its not something I have fun thinking about.

After they had hung the carcasses, not too difficult because of the low branches and the fact that Cease can climb like a monkey, the men continued through the bush. They were out of the grass now and into an area where small bushes and trees made up the landscape. You could see large hoof prints all over the place so they knew that the zebras must come that way frequently, probably to get to the water in the fresh ponds that have been dug in the landscape.

Cease hopped up on one of the man-made boulders to try and look around. He said he nearly had a heart attack. Right on the other side of the boulder was a kudu that had been hiding. Cease startled the kudu and it came from around the boulder so quickly that it startled the other men. Waleski never even made a pretense of firing. He said he just wanted to get out of the thing's way. Dixon and Angus were too close. Jerry's gun misfired. Scott said it was just dumb luck more than skill that he managed to get a solid hit into the top of the creature's back.

They thought it had been a solid hit when the kudu dropped after kicking both back legs. But before they could make sure, it got up and ran off. It was losing a lot of blood so they tracked it for about ten minutes before finding it under a tree breathing its last. Dixon put it out of its misery with a herculean neck snap. After Scott told me that I decided I never really want to see that man out of control. Something tells me it would be a nasty incident.

They were wondering how they were going to get all the meat back to the bus when Angus spotted one of those large wagons that can be pulled by hand. They put the 500 pound kudu on the wagon and pulled it back to the tree.

There, asleep under the tree was a huge ostrich not bothered at all by the fact that there were four dead animals up in the tree above it. Cease said it was easy as pie to lasso it and walk it along. How none of them got their guts kicked out I don't know. The ostrich must have been tired or something. It may have just been running from a predator. Either way they have got to be the luckiest sons a guns ever. Ostriches are nothing to fool with. Their legs are powerful enough to shatter your insides or break a human leg bone. Their beak can be pretty nasty too if they are in the mood.

With Cease leading the loopy ostrich the other men put the meat on the wagon and pulled it back to the concrete area. There they were able to pick up a flatbed and move the oryx and impalas off of the one that kudu was on.

And that's how they showed up looking pleased as punch with themselves. The meat was worth it; though with the refugees to feed it went too fast. We still have some tucked away in the smoke house and I'll have to write out how I made sausage another day … after I find out if it is going to be edible.

Day 111 (Day of Rest)

We opted to put the Port Run off one more day. It's such a potentially important trek, and so potentially dangerous, that we wanted to make sure those that were going were completely rested and fully outfitted. I have to admit that I am glad.

Matlock is going to lead this run. Dixon came down with whatever is going around and his eyes are swollen, runny, and itchy. I don't think he's gone 15 minutes today without a sneeze or two. First thing this morning I handed him a pile of handkerchiefs and told him to use 'em or I would drown him in Lysol. I assume he got the message, although he does need to talk to Samuel. Poor kid is confused and sad and spending a lot of time at our house sitting with Sarah. On the one hand he's glad his parents aren't arguing anymore and are happier. On the other hand he would prefer if his parents could have found some way to be happy with each other. I'm so glad Scott and I were able to work it out the times we've gone through some rough spots. I'm sure Shakespeare probably said something witty and appropriate that I could quote but in my own words relationships are a lot of dat burn work and the moment you forget that, or give up trying to fix things, is when the problems can become insurmountable.

It can't be one-sided either. At least not for long. Look at the mess Jack has been left with. I know he loved Teri and is grieving for her like crazy, but I'm not sure at the end that he liked her very much. You gotta have a little of both for balance. Just like with Patricia and Dixon, Jack and Teri used their son to bridge their differences. But when he died there wasn't enough left to see them through the hard times. I hope Scott and I don't forget and let the kids become the only glue that binds us. God willing, even Kitty will grow up one day and have a life of her own. What will we do then? Who will we be then?

Argh! I don't know what I'm feeling so insecure about. Maybe Scott leaving to go on the Port Run has me spooked. With all the preparation and work over the last several weeks we haven't had much alone time; not even for a walk in the orange grove. The few times we have managed to be alone and not too tired, just when things start to look interesting someone interrupts; the baby cries, someone's boo-boo needs to be tended, something breaks and only Scott can fix it, we're missing something vital to finish a recipe, etc., etc., etc. I don't know how the other couples are managing things.

The other people going on the run are McElroy, Junie, Jack, and Angus. The only one I'm a little iffy on is Junie. It's not that she will be the lone female. She's nearly as taciturn as Waleski; it's her shoulder. I guess Dixon and Matlock need to see if she is still up for her job.

They leave tomorrow morning at the changing of the guards. At least this time we'll be able to stay in contact. Those that didn't have specific duties throughout the day helped raise a new, larger antenna for our radio shack, hopefully that will take care of any reception problems on our end. They also installed new radios in the bus, the F350, the tow truck, and Angus' Juicer. The only two vehicles going however are the F350 and Juicer.

Scott will ride with Angus and they'll drive point and hopefully push any blockages out of the way if possible. The other four will ride in the F350. That won't leave a lot of room for supplies but the bus is simply too unwieldy to take into unknown territory. The F350 is an extended cab long bed work truck; it will haul, just not as much as the bus could. I'd rather that they come back with less and uninjured, than try to bring back too much and have an accident.

We still haven't heard from MacDill or the Driscoll Compound. There's not much we can do about MacDill right now. If they don't want to talk to us there's nothing we can do about it. But, the decision has been made to drive by Driscoll's to see what their status is.

The crew will take Nebraska or Florida Avenue all the way into Downtown, depending on which one turns out to be freer of blockages. They'll check out Downtown for ideas for a future run then head straight over to Channelside Drive and from there into the heart of the port itself. Even without complications it will be late before they get in; possibly after dark which could slow them down immensely. All I can do is pray at this point that no "complications" occur.

Just because I could, I decided to go overboard and do dinner up big. Last night after I found out the run was going to be pushed off another day I had the men give me all the warthog ribs. I seasoned them with kosher salt, black pepper then added garam marsala just to give it an African kick. I left them in a small battery powdered cooler to marinate overnight.

Right after lunch I put the ribs in some of the big pans I brought back from Busch Gardens, covered them with several bottles of beer I snagged out of the Yuengling supplies and then set it all to bake in my big trench for a couple of hours until they were tender.

While the ribs were roasting I made a glaze out of canned pineapple chunks, fresh ginger, basil, allspice, ketchup, red wine vinegar, cayenne pepper, soy sauce, and just enough water to thin it out enough that after simmering it for a bit I could puree it all.

When the ribs were tender I basted them with the glaze and then heated them back up just enough to make the glaze bubble.

Oh … my … word. You would have thought some of the guys had died and gone to culinary heaven. And weren't they happy the battery the cooler was plugged into had lasted long enough to put frost on some bottles of adult beverages. I even managed to fit in some bottles of my homemade rootbeer for the kids.

The dogs were happy as clams to get the scraps. If I'm honest, I'll be happy as a clam to get this run done and over with.


	70. Day 111

**Day 111 (Day of Rest)**

We opted to put the Port Run off one more day. It's such a potentially important trek, and so potentially dangerous, that we wanted to make sure those that were going were completely rested and fully outfitted. I have to admit that I am glad.

Matlock is going to lead this run. Dixon came down with whatever is going around and his eyes are swollen, runny, and itchy. I don't think he's gone 15 minutes today without a sneeze or two. First thing this morning I handed him a pile of handkerchiefs and told him to use 'em or I would drown him in Lysol. I assume he got the message, although he does need to talk to Samuel. Poor kid is confused and sad and spending a lot of time at our house sitting with Sarah. On the one hand he's glad his parents aren't arguing anymore and are happier. On the other hand he would prefer if his parents could have found some way to be happy with each other. I'm so glad Scott and I were able to work it out the times we've gone through some rough spots. I'm sure Shakespeare probably said something witty and appropriate that I could quote but in my own words relationships are a lot of dat burn work and the moment you forget that, or give up trying to fix things, is when the problems can become insurmountable.

It can't be one-sided either. At least not for long. Look at the mess Jack has been left with. I know he loved Teri and is grieving for her like crazy, but I'm not sure at the end that he liked her very much. You gotta have a little of both for balance. Just like with Patricia and Dixon, Jack and Teri used their son to bridge their differences. But when he died there wasn't enough left to see them through the hard times. I hope Scott and I don't forget and let the kids become the only glue that binds us. God willing, even Kitty will grow up one day and have a life of her own. What will we do then? Who will we be then?

Argh! I don't know what I'm feeling so insecure about. Maybe Scott leaving to go on the Port Run has me spooked. With all the preparation and work over the last several weeks we haven't had much alone time; not even for a walk in the orange grove. The few times we have managed to be alone and not too tired, just when things start to look interesting someone interrupts; the baby cries, someone's boo-boo needs to be tended, something breaks and only Scott can fix it, we're missing something vital to finish a recipe, etc., etc., etc. I don't know how the other couples are managing things.

The other people going on the run are McElroy, Junie, Jack, and Angus. The only one I'm a little iffy on is Junie. It's not that she will be the lone female. She's nearly as taciturn as Waleski; it's her shoulder. I guess Dixon and Matlock need to see if she is still up for her job.

They leave tomorrow morning at the changing of the guards. At least this time we'll be able to stay in contact. Those that didn't have specific duties throughout the day helped raise a new, larger antenna for our radio shack, hopefully that will take care of any reception problems on our end. They also installed new radios in the bus, the F350, the tow truck, and Angus' Juicer. The only two vehicles going however are the F350 and Juicer.

Scott will ride with Angus and they'll drive point and hopefully push any blockages out of the way if possible. The other four will ride in the F350. That won't leave a lot of room for supplies but the bus is simply too unwieldy to take into unknown territory. The F350 is an extended cab long bed work truck; it will haul, just not as much as the bus could. I'd rather that they come back with less and uninjured, than try to bring back too much and have an accident.

We still haven't heard from MacDill or the Driscoll Compound. There's not much we can do about MacDill right now. If they don't want to talk to us there's nothing we can do about it. But, the decision has been made to drive by Driscoll's to see what their status is.

The crew will take Nebraska or Florida Avenue all the way into Downtown, depending on which one turns out to be freer of blockages. They'll check out Downtown for ideas for a future run then head straight over to Channelside Drive and from there into the heart of the port itself. Even without complications it will be late before they get in; possibly after dark which could slow them down immensely. All I can do is pray at this point that no "complications" occur.

Just because I could, I decided to go overboard and do dinner up big. Last night after I found out the run was going to be pushed off another day I had the men give me all the warthog ribs. I seasoned them with kosher salt, black pepper then added garam marsala just to give it an African kick. I left them in a small battery powdered cooler to marinate overnight.

Right after lunch I put the ribs in some of the big pans I brought back from Busch Gardens, covered them with several bottles of beer I snagged out of the Yuengling supplies and then set it all to bake in my big trench for a couple of hours until they were tender.

While the ribs were roasting I made a glaze out of canned pineapple chunks, fresh ginger, basil, allspice, ketchup, red wine vinegar, cayenne pepper, soy sauce, and just enough water to thin it out enough that after simmering it for a bit I could puree it all.

When the ribs were tender I basted them with the glaze and then heated them back up just enough to make the glaze bubble.

Oh … my … word. You would have thought some of the guys had died and gone to culinary heaven. And weren't they happy the battery the cooler was plugged into had lasted long enough to put frost on some bottles of adult beverages. I even managed to fit in some bottles of my homemade rootbeer for the kids.

The dogs were happy as clams to get the scraps. If I'm honest, I'll be happy as a clam to get this run done and over with.


	71. Day 112

**Day 112 (Monday – Wash Day)**

It's a good thing I've been so busy today or I probably would have gone nuts.

Scott's not home, well I mean none of them are. They got caught in some firefight between a group based out of MacDill and pirates. Yep, pirates. They were at the port so why not?! I swear, just once it would be nice to have a normal sort of problem. But since NRS came into our lives the surreal is real and "normal" is surreal. Lord I need to sleep. I'm starting to sound as bonkers as I feel. I tried to sleep but after tossing and turning for a couple of hours I decided to just get up, come in here and spill my guts in this journal. The damn bed is too big and lonely anyway.

They had already missed three pre-arranged call times and I was flat ready to have a break down. I had to keep a cool head though. Becky was already a nervous wreck and Waleski wasn't much better than the kids who were about to drive me to drink with their incessant questions about whether Daddy had called yet. It was like being in a car full of kids going, "Are we there yet? When are we going to get there? Are we there yet? How much further?" Anyone that has kids will know exactly what I mean even if they've only experienced it once. It makes for a great piece of comic relief … until you are the one actually experiencing it.

I kept saying to myself and praying, "Let it only be a radio malfunction. " Dixon, not at his best himself, looked like he was ready to strangle the next person who asked if our crew had called in.

I had gone over to the shack to annoy Dixon one more time when the radio finally crackled to life.

Jack, sounding extremely harried and unlike himself radioed, "This is Juicer 1 callin' the Dog House. Repeat this is Juicer 1 calling the Dog House. Do you copy Dog House?"

"This is the Dog House calling Juicer 1. We read you loud and clear. Are you coming for dinner?"

"That's negative Dog House. Aw crap … just a sec. Hey you, lend a hand will ya?"

We all just looked at each other. The break was long enough that Dixon almost keyed the mike when another voice came on.

"Eh. This is … uh … Juicer 1 calling the … uh … Dog House. You still there Dog House?"

"That's affirmative caller. Please identify yourself. Voice recognition is off."

The reason why Dixon asked for the caller to identify themselves was because none of our people had a distinctly Australian accent and that person certainly did. None of us knew quite what to make of it.

"Juicer 1 kindly gave me an assist with a mutual enemy. My new friends are a bit tied up at the moment in some kind of discussion with some gentlemen wearing USAF uniforms. They asked me to let you know that they'd be forced to put your invitation of a visit off for a day. Do you copy that Dog House?"

"Roger that Juicer 1. We copy and say affirmative. Any other info that you can relay?"

After a short pause the man came back on and said, "Yeah mate, one of the gentlemen said to tell Mother Hen that everyone still has all their fingers and toes but that they had run into a problem with … uh … huh? … oh … a problem with Johnnie's favorite Veggie Tale song. But not to worry, they were working on a happily ever after. Did you copy that Dog House?"

"Roger that Juicer 1. We ... uh ... copy."

Dixon looked at me standing there with my mouth hanging open and asked, "You do know what he's talking about right?"

All I could do was nod my head.

"Sissy? Yo, Sissy!"

I came out of the fog I had slipped into. I just couldn't believe it. I had to clear my throat twice before I could answer. "Johnnie's favorite VeggieTale song is The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything."

Dixon yelped, "The what?!"

"Pirates. He must mean pirates."

"You still there Dog House?"

"Affirmative Juicer 1. You caught us by surprise."

"Know what you mean, mate. They didn't do me any good either. Got another message for you if you're ready to receive."

"This is the Dog House. Go ahead Juicer 1."

"SM says he'll call Kitty's bed time plus two, repeat Kitty's bed time plus two on prearranged alternative channel number three. Bit a news, but it requires some thinking how to tell it. But repeat, everyone has all their fingers and toes so no Rolaids necessary. Do you copy all that Dog House?"

"Roger that Juicer 1. Bedtime plus two and no Rolaids."

"That's affirmative Dog House. Over and out."

Kitty's regular bedtime, which Matlock would know because he, Becky, Jenny, and Tom haven't moved yet, is 8 pm and I'm religious about the ruckus being brought down several notches at that point. Add two hours to that and it meant Matlock would call at 10 PM. I didn't understand why so late, it was only 4:30 pm at that time. I also didn't understand at the time why they couldn't talk then and why he'd have to think on how to say it; especially if everyone was OK.

At 10 o'clock on the dot Matlock called in. Rose said she would stay with the kids so Becky and I could go hear what was said but Matlock asked everyone but Waleski to remain outside. I didn't know whether to pout or get angry. So we stood outside on pins and needles until he came outside and told us what was going on.

We don't have all the details yet – Matlock was apparently worried about their location being compromised – but in a nutshell MacDill is being evacuated. And Junie opted to accept the call to return to active duty because the medic in the MacDill group said she could qualify to have surgery to correct her shoulder. But, because Junie knew about one of the stockpiles they had gathered, our group had to move its location after she left in case she turned the information over. We were all pretty blown away at the double blow - Junie and MacDill.

Waleski is some tore up. Junie didn't even bother to send him a good-bye message. Waleski may get on my nerves on occasion but even at his worst I'm sure he never would have done that to Junie had their positions been reversed. I don't like to call names but what a total skank of a thing to do. Waleski had been nursing her for weeks and if nothing else deserved some consideration for that alone.

James will be home from guard duty any minute and I don't want him thinking I was waiting up for him. I'll sign off here and try and get some rest even if I can't actually sleep.

I have a strange feeling that Dixon didn't tell us everything. He was angry about Junie I think but he was also excited about something … unless the decongestion was making him hyper which is also a possibility. And who the heck was the Australian guy and how does he fit into the story?

I guess I'll find out tomorrow. The guys apparently plan on being home about mid-day. Why is it time never flies when you want it to?


	72. Day 113

**Day 113 (Tuesday)**

I spent the day letting down the hems of the kids shorts and pants and quietly going crazy while waiting for Scott to come home.

The sewing isn't busy work either. The kids are growing so fast I can hardly keep up. I know most people would probably think I should just chuck the worn clothes into the rag bag and gather something from out in the community but it's not quite as easy as it sounds. One, you have to find a house that held kids. Two, the kids have to have worn the same size you are looking for. And three, if you do find a house with children's clothing in the right size and sex it might not be appropriate or hard-wearing enough. It's the same for shoes though we aren't having as much trouble with those yet.

We've found to our detriment that a lot of modern clothes just wear out quickly between the work we do and the way we have to wash them. I know it's not been quite four months but stuff is already starting to fall apart. The stitching is usually the first thing that gives way. Buttons and zippers are next. Then the fabric itself wears thin or just rips.

Even James is running into a problem. He's wearing 28 x 31 jeans right now and the pants legs are sitting above his ankles. I just can't find anything in the storage sheds that fit in the waist and the length at the same time. Rose and David aren't having the same problems though David could use another couple of work pants and at least one more flannel shirt. They are in adult sizes and there plenty of that available. All of those that work nightshift guard duty could use some long underwear. And don't even get me started on the other kids. The other women are complaining of the same thing.

I'm doing the best I can with what I have. I cut up worn or broken items and use them to lengthen or patch other items. Things were getting so bad with Sarah that I finally just took a bunch of old worn jeans – broken zippers, rips for fashion rather than practicality, etc. – and made a couple of long jean skirts with a drawstring waist. She calls them her prairie skirts and they hold up even under the rough conditions of taking care of the animals. And she says they are warm on her legs but don't make her feel all bound up. Now all the girls want "prairie skirts." I wouldn't mind wearing them myself but they aren't practical for working around the cook fire. For the youngest girls I've simply begun sewing very long ruffles on the hem of oversized t-shirts. If the skirt/dress gets too short before they outgrow the t-shirt I'll just sew another ruffle on the end to lengthen it and I can patch any holes by adding appliques.

We really do need to make a run to a fabric store. I've talked to Dante' about moving it up the priority list but I can't seem to get him or the other men to understand how important it's going to be. There's also an antique "mall" down by where the Big Top Flea Market was I want to go to. When everything went crazy I know they were in the middle of a Chapter 11 Bankruptcy but I'm almost positive they still had their warehouse full of inventory because they were going to start doing auctions 'cause Scott and I were gonna go.

While I was working and thinking all of this, lunch came and went and there was still no sign of our crew. I was trying hard not to be upset. We'd gotten a confirmation this morning that everything was going according to plan and that they would be back around mid-day. I was just starting to darn another pair of socks when Bo ran up to tell us that a convoy had been sighted.

He said "a" convoy had been sighted; not "the" or "our" convoy. I grabbed my .22 and bag of bullets and headed to the wall after asking Josephine and Maddie to watch the kids and to also watch for the lock down signal. I would have preferred Rose and Melody but they were both working at the hospital.

Even as I was running over to my assigned position on the Wall, Dixon was waving me down. I bee-lined for him and he asked me, "Could you please make sure the kids stay well back form the road. It's our people and they're coming in with extra vehicles. Those sons of a guns hit pay dirt Sissy! They're bringing in a tanker and a crap load of other stuff. Until we get it in and locked down I don't want the kids anywhere near things."

OK, besides the fact he didn't actually say "crap" but something a little more earthy, he looked really strange. You don't often see Dixon in such a jovial mood. He also doesn't curse all that much, at least not in mixed company. Whatever the guys were bringing in, I knew at that moment it had to be pretty darn special.

I turned right around and wondered how long they expected me to be able to keep a bunch of overexcited kids corralled. I couldn't chain them up like dogs although I'll admit I've thought it a time or two when they've just about run me ragged, but I did think of the macramé cord that I had found for Sarah to give her something constructive to occupy her time while she was unable to walk around. I took one end of one of the spools and tied it to a fence post on one side of the yard, then I ran it over to the carport and tied the other end off there.

Next I showed the kids what I had done and set the ground rules. "If I catch any of you on the other side of that line you are going to be in bad trouble. If any of you older ones let any of the younger ones passed that line you are going to be in worse trouble. Anyone passed that line without express permission will lose all of their free time for a minimum of two weeks and will receive extra chores until I feel like you've had enough. Does anyone have any questions?"

Of course Johnnie and Bubby wanted to know why, like they were weighing whether it was worth getting into trouble over. At least half my gray hair comes from the creativity of those two. By the time I finished explaining why it was important for them to be obedient, the trucks had begun to pull in. There were six, each with a single driver, and what a sight they made.

First came Juicer with Angus driving, pulling a long and fully loaded flat bed trailer. Next, Scott drove in with a dump truck full to capacity and covered by a tarp; attached to the dump truck was a large enclosed commercial trailer which I was to learn later was full to capacity as well. Then came McElroy driving a fuel tanker; everyone cheered when they saw that one. After him came a small propane tanker driven by a man I did not recognize. Next to last came Jack driving a flatbed rig that had two steel storage containers on it and also pulling a second trailer piggy back style; I used to hate driving near those things on the Interstate. Bringing up the rear was Matlock driving another flatbed that had the F350 chained down on it and also several wooden crates with D.O.T. stenciled on the outside.

As the gates closed everyone in Sanctuary was out and celebrating; even the guards on the Wall were hooting and hollering. We made enough noise to draw a small crowd of zombies. It wasn't until we noticed that that we all began to quiet back down. I decided it was best if I stayed with the kids to help them avoid the temptation of stepping past the line I had set up.

Standing back as I was it was interesting to observe the interactions between everyone. After Matlock and Dixon greeted each other with a lot of male back-slapping and guy theatrics, Matlock gathered Becky - who had run up to him as soon as he was out of the truck - in one arm and then hurried over to pick up Tom and Jenny and swing them around a bit. They made a cute family group and I knew they'd be soon moving into a house of their own now that their commitment was fully cemented.

After leaving Matlock, Dixon shook Jack's hand. Patricia stepped up to Jack and gave him a hug though there was nothing sexual to it at all. She's smart enough to know that he's not done grieving for Teri yet, but she was marking her territory so to speak. Dixon did a double take but didn't say anything. Jack looked at Patricia then at Dix waiting for his reaction. Dix gave a barely visible nod and half smile and then stepped up to the next man, leaving his former lover with apparently whom she has chosen to be the new man in her life, whenever he is ready.

McElroy walked back to introduce the stranger to Dixon and the three of them walked up to where Scott and Angus were standing in the midst of James, David, Cease, Rose and several other people. Eventually I saw Scott looking around for me. I waved with one hand while holding on to Johnnie and Bubby with the other. He understood, smiled and made hand motions that he'd be over as soon as he could. The kids were all jumping up and down, as excited as the adults were, except for Sarah who sat in a chair and waved tiredly, but happily, at her dad.

Glancing to my left I saw Rachel and Waleski standing in front of the hospital, near but somehow outside of the celebration.

Waleski had a blank look on his face. Not angry or lost, nor even unhappy; but you could tell he was stretching himself to not be one of those things. He may be a curmudgeon but he's our curmudgeon and I hate to see him suffering. We all need to walk with consideration for his feelings for a while until he can get through this. The loss of Junie, the fact that she left him with no notice or good bye, has to be gut wrenching for him.

Rachel had her own carefully blank expression on. She was staring at Patricia standing there with Jack and then she looked over at Dixon who was talking unconcernedly nearby. I haven't a clue what she was thinking but she didn't look happy with her thoughts.

Muriel showed up about then and told me she'd watch the littles so I could go over to Scott. I like Muriel. She reminds me of some of the women in my family; a lady but still no one to trifle with. She's fun but she doesn't take any guff off of anyone and the kids all know it; and probably respect her all the more for it.

Thanking Muriel for her thoughtfulness, I walked over to Scott as he started heading my way with the stranger.

"Honey, I'd like you to meet Jim. He's from out of town and doesn't have any family on this side of the world. Jim this is the 'Mother Hen' we all told you about. She also happens to be my wife."

"How do you do ma'am," said Jim with the same distinct Australian accent I had heard over the radio.

"Please to make your acquaintance Jim. Please call me Sissy, everyone does."

We exchanged a few more pleasantries and then all the men were called to bend their backs to start unloading the big stuff from the vehicles. Josephine and Maddie, assisted by Bo and Tom, laid out tarps so the women and older girls could lay out some of the smaller items before they were inventoried and put away into storage.

While we all worked together, the story of the Port Run was told. There was more than a few details come out that were both shocking and upsetting.

After our crew left at 5 AM they travelled south on Florida Avenue as far as they could before having to switch over to Nebraska Avenue so that they could swing by and check on the Driscoll Compound.

It was obvious immediately that something horrific had occurred there. Corpses, permanently dead ones, littered the ground within 200 yards of the Driscoll warehouse. The warehouse itself had sustained significant structural damage.

Against their better judgment the men decided to stop and see whether there were any survivors. The inside of the building was a carnal house. With the younglings about the men didn't go into detail but Scott later told me it's one of the worst things he's ever seen. Bodies and parts of bodies, old blood, brain matter, and internal organs were everywhere you looked. Jack puked first and then Junie started. That set everyone heaving, even Angus and Matlock. There's just something about the sound of heaving and then vomit hitting the ground that makes extreme nausea contagious.

When everyone had their stomachs back under control they continued looking around trying to figure out what had happened. Oh, it was obvious that zombies had gotten in but how? And what had caused the roof to collapse?

Then Matlock spotted the man behind the glass walls of the main office space. He was a suicide – the rifle still lay in his lap with the barrel tucked under what remained of his chin – and well into the advanced stages of decay. His height and hair color led Scott to the conclusion that it was Mr. Driscoll Sr. himself. The note he left behind confirmed it.

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN,

ALL I TRIED TO DO HERE HAS BEEN FOR NOTHING. IN OUR ARROGANCE WE BROUGHT IT ON OURSELVES. WE HAD HELD OFF RAIDERS AND ZOMBIE HORDES SO MANY TIMES WE GOT COCKY AND THEN SLOPPY ABOUT CHECKING THE BUILDING FOR DAMAGE. WE GOT OVER CONFIDENT AND PUT TOO MUCH IN OUR ROOFTOP GARDEN. THE RAINS CAME AND WE PUT ALL THOSE BARRELS UP THERE TO CATCH WATER TOO.

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LAST STANDOFF WITH THOSE NRS FREAKS THE CORNER OF THE ROOF GAVE WAY. ON ITS WAY DOWN IT BUCKLED THE BACK WALL AND THE DOOR POPPED OPEN. THAT'S ALL IT TOOK. I WATCHED THEM POUR IN. I WATCHED AS MY FAMILY WAS TORN APART. MY OWN DEAR WIFE WAS BITTEN AND BEGGED ME TO STOP AS I RAISED MY GUN TO PUT A BULLET IN HER BRAIN.

COWARD THAT I AM I RAN AND HID IN THE VAULT WHILE EVERYONE ELSE STOOD AND FOUGHT. I FINALLY FOUND THE COURAGE TO COME OUT AND FIGHT ONLY TO FIND THAT IT WAS ALL OVER WITH. I'M OVER WITH. I CAN'T GO ON ANY LONGER. I CAN'T LIVE WITH WHAT I DID. AND EVEN LESS WITH WHAT I DIDN'T DO.

WHO EVER FINDS MY BODY I'D JUST MAKE ONE REQUEST. TAKE THE KEY IN THE TOP LEFTHAND DRAWER, OPEN THE VAULT, AND USE WHAT YOU FIND THERE TO PUT AS MANY OF THOSE SONS A BITCHES AS YOU CAN IN A PERMANENT GRAVE.

T. DRISCOLL

Matlock found the key where promised and opened the vault. It was a goldmine, at least by today's definition. On shelves lining three walls were thousands upon thousands of rounds of ammunition. No wonder they never seemed worried about running out. Mr. Driscoll must have also gathered all the weapons in the compound and locked them in there as well, though some of the guns were damaged beyond repair.

It was almost decided then and there to call off the Port Run and simply take what they had found and call it good. Instead everyone grabbed a double supply of ammo for their weapon. Matlock relocked the vault room and moved a book case in front of the door as camouflage and removed the suicide note so that no one else would look for the now hidden room.

Back in the vehicles and now behind schedule, they began heading Downtown. What during normal times would have been at most a 30 minute drive on the I275 took them two hours on side roads.

Downtown was a mess; shattered windows, gridlocked cars that Angus pushed to the side as best he could, and zombies in various stages of decay here and there on street corners, weirdly mimicking the homeless that once stood there instead. The sound of the vehicles echoed through the skyscraper canyons and confused the heck out of the walking corpses. Occasionally one would come tumbling out of a high rise building to land in a quagmire of rust colored stains and body parts where previous zombies had tried the same exit strategy.

The Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center where Scott and I had gone less than a year ago to see The Jersey Boys to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary was basically rubble. It looked like a couple of small bombs had gone off inside the bottom floors of the building, right at the entrances. Several of the Downtown buildings looked like that. The library didn't look too bad but the lexan walkway between the main building and the annex had several major cracks in it.

Matlock decided that was as good a place as any to stop and call in since it was about that time. The group needed to get their bearings anyway and to wash the taste of puke out of their mouths. They stopped an hour and while there they made a pile of books, DVDs, etc. that they wanted to bring back. Scott picked a bunch of books on carpentry and home repair for him and threw nearly the entire collection of cookbooks, craft books, and gardening books on the pile for me even though he knew there was no way they'd be able to bring them all back. McElroy grabbed some books on building small electrical and solar devices. Matlock grabbed some books on metal work and gunsmithing. Junie didn't seem much interested in anything the library had to offer but half-heatedly threw some books in the pile on home and natural remedies apparently for Waleski. Jack and Angus had a good sized crate of books and movies each as well. Scott said at the time they wished they had had more opportunity to be picky but they moved everything into a pile for later pick up and headed back outside.

From the library, unmolested by the zombies who had strangely begun migrating to the west like they heard some call no one else could, our crew headed in the opposite direction to Channelside Drive to stop at the Port Authority building. That's where things started going wrong.

Not far from the building they had been aiming for, the F350 blew a tire. Luckily they had come prepared with two spares but it was still a time consuming mess to unload the truck, jack it up, and then change the tire on the big truck. Jack had taken a short break and was leaning against a doorway when it gave way.

He fell inside what turned out to be a small office and warehouse space. Unfortunately he knocked his head pretty hard on the way down and was discombobulated and had a gash on his forehead that had to be cleaned up and pulled closed with butterfly bandages. While our crew gave Jack a few minutes recovery time, Angus and Scott decided to see if the warehouse held anything interesting.

Amazingly no zombies, nor rotting corpses, were anywhere in the area. It was like they had all been cleaned out. Under tarps inside the warehouse space were cases of canned goods and liquor. Other tarps hid crates of jewelry, coins, gold, art, and other museum quality knick knacks. There was also what looked like a pretty big supply of both legal and illegal drugs. The men quickly brought Matlock and the rest over to see what they had found. It looked like someone's private stash of black market goods that was waiting for a new economy to develop. While some of it made our crews search for things to bring back to Sanctuary easier, it also made everyone leery of who was already working this area of town.

Matlock said the sooner they could finish going through the specified locations the better. Such a big stash of wealth was unlikely to be left unguarded for long. Nor would they be very happy that someone had been nosing around their stuff. The crew was on their way again immediately and was soon parked in front of a nondescript building with a small plaque announcing it belonged to Homeland Security. The vehicles were secured and they had just begun to enter the main offices beyond the entrance foyer when gunfire sounded from the side of the building that faced the water. A quick exit became impossible when men in uniforms rushed into the room in retreat.

The uniforms – a mix of several different branches of the US military, but all wearing the black armband of the NRSC – nearly opened fire on our crew, but were prevented from doing so when the people already firing at them ran in as well.

Scott quickly rolled over to Matlock and translated that it was pretty safe to assume that the men shooting at the uniforms were the bad guys. It was unlikely that the good guys wanted to catch people to have a zombie feeding party. "¡Divirtámosnos cierto y alimentémoslos a los zombis!" cried several of the ferocious looking brigands in Spanish.

With little hesitation our people added their fire power to the uniforms' and the bad guys – who it turned out were pirates who had been harassing MacDill and the surrounding area for several weeks – were caught betwixt and between.

It didn't take long. Then there was the trouble of convincing a very young, very new, and very nervous lieutenant that our crew wasn't just another bunch of bad guys. Once the introductions were over with, our group found out the main group of pirates was moored in the port and had some captives from the Base.

Our group had been indecisive about joining the rescue mission until they found out the pirates were beginning to make incursions further inland and were even beginning to use the Hillsborough River as a liquid highway. That could put them way too close to our home base.

That cinched it for our group. We already have enough problems without allowing another one to take root in the area when we could nip it in the bud early. Between our crew, the military patrol, and a second patrol that had come to relieve the first, it was a near route.

As violent and as ruthless as the pirates were they were still no match for the number of trained military personnel combined with and our hardened survivors. Some of the pirates were even "on duty" drunk or high. Their lack of discipline was their ultimate undoing.

In the middle of the battle Scott spotted a tall, thin man who he thought was one of the captives trying to escape. He gave the man covering fire to allow him to get into a more secure position. This man later said to Scott, "Thanks mate, appreciate that. I was beginning to think I was going to have to take them bastards on all on my lonesome."

Our Australian's name is Jim; or "Jimmy to the ladies if they're so inclined." The perpetual twinkle in his eye proclaims him to be somewhat of a rascal but he's serious enough when the situation warrants. He is a displaced businessman stuck here in the States when the international flight quarantine was put into effect. He'd been wandering his way to Tampa Bay from Orlando for weeks thinking to find himself a sailboat and figure out a way to get home. The pirates put a period to that idea and the loss of this fantasy that had kept him going made him extremely angry; he just hadn't found anything more worthwhile to occupy his time until we showed up.

After the pirate battle, the two military units reported in and included the information about our crew's assistance. After identification was confirmed and permission granted we were given some pretty disheartening news.

Despite the best efforts of US military forces the zombie population in the USA has reached critical mass and is currently uncontainable. The bulk of the remaining government and military forces are pulling into the Midwest to wait out the winter and see if weather-related factors lowered the zombie numbers. In the meantime they would secure the nation's bread basket and set up perimeters that offered some protection to a smaller geographic area, using the Rocky Mountain Range and the Mississippi River as natural barriers. Offenses will be planned again for the Spring after the regrouping is completed.

Colonel Martin is now General Martin and he is in charge of the evacuation and closure of all military bases along the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts. They had hoped, due to its strategic location, to maintain an outpost at MacDill AFB but the last horde overran the base leaving a lot of the infrastructure unsalvageable and most of the base indefensible.

The evacuation was nearly complete when a pirate attack captured several high ranking officials as well as munitions best not left in the hands of civilians. Now that they had been successfully rescued it was time to complete the necessary closing of the base. Since all of the civilians they had space for had already been evacuated, only Matlock, McElroy, and Junie received invitations to join the withdrawing forces. There was silence at this.

Scott said he told Matlock that he needed to do what he thought best but Matlock immediately responded with a negative about leaving, he had his family to consider; McElroy responded nearly as quickly with the same answer. Junie on the other hand, who had been talking with one of the rescued medics, took Matlock aside and informed him that she was accepting the invitation.

Everyone was shocked by her response. At this response she became rather defensive and stated that anyone that could get out was crazy if they didn't take the opportunity that was practically being offered to them on a silver platter. Not only that but she wanted to have her shoulder fixed "right, by professionals, and not by someone just doing the best they can with what they had." Under the circumstances it would have been difficult to impossible to stop her from going though McElroy tried to talk her out of it. When Matlock asked what he was supposed to say to Waleski she said that they didn't need to say anything, he would either understand or he wouldn't and nothing she or they said would change that.

The military forces gathered their people, the stuff that had been stolen from the base (rocket launchers anyone?), and everything else they could from the area and left; this included what they thought was the pirates' "treasure trove." Junie didn't even bother to wave goodbye.

The young lieutenant did pass along the information that there were plans in the works to make regular flyovers of the area and that come spring they'd be making call again on the channel they used previously to contact Sanctuary. I suppose that was supposed to make us feel like we were not being left in the back of beyond with hardly anything but zombies between us and the bulk of what remained of our country thousands of miles away.

Needless to say it didn't work. But at the same time we weren't overly concerned either. We'd pretty much been on our own from the beginning. More people should have listened when the government said we'd be YOYO for at least a short time in the event of a major catastrophic event. YOYO means "you're on your own" and this has certainly been true for those of us experiencing the ZPAW.

No sooner had they driven completely out of sight than Matlock turned and said that they needed to go back to the warehouse and take what they could and find a place to stay for the night. Jim, in a strangely cheerful mood said, "That's just them dole bludgers' little stash, though it's got some nice things in it. You want to see their big stash. Now that's a beaut. I was gobsmacked the first time I saw it."

Jim was not understating things at all. He had been observing the pirates for nearly two weeks and had found most of the stashes they had built. It's actually how he was finding food and staying alive. He'd hole up in whatever stash location they had just left and it would be at least two or three days before they would come back; he was safe, dry, and out of the reach of zombies then he would move on to the next one. He also had his pick of whatever was stashed there because the pirates didn't keep anything written down. If something was missing they assumed one of the other pirates had taken it for their own use, assuming they noticed at all. The pirates, in hindsight, seemed so disorganized and inept that if MacDill had had the personnel to dedicate to the problem they could have gotten rid of them before they had a chance to become entrenched.

In the large warehouse right down at the water's edge where the pirates kept most of their contraband Jim warned, "You want to watch some of those guns they have. They are a bit bodgy; watched one blow the hand off the guy who was using it just the other day. Ammo is decent enough though. Hasn't given me a bit a trouble and I've been using it for over ten days now."

That example seemed to typify what the pirates had been collecting. There was no rhyme or reason to it. There was expensive, museum quality pieces of art next to Elvis painted on velvet paintings in cheap frames. Bottles of expensive scotch and vodka sat in laundry baskets with cans of cheap beer and boxes of even cheaper wine. Heavy gold chains and gem encrusted pieces of jewelry were thrown into the same containers as chunky plastic bangles and dime store earrings that would turn your skin green if you even thought about wearing them. High quality and expensive fire arms were thrown onto the same shelves as cheap flea market vendor paintball guns.

The quality of the equipment that the pirates had gathered was just as haphazard. Ropes removed from multimillion dollar yachts lay in piles next to ropes that might have barely qualified to act as clothesline. Rusted gas cans were lined up with shiny and well maintained industrial grade tanks. Craftsmen and even higher end tool brands were clumped together with bent screwdrivers and broken wrenches from the Dollar Tree. The inventorying system the pirates used barely qualified as a system at all and made deciding what to bring and what to leave behind even more time consuming.

They threw the gold, jewelry, coins, gems and other items of that sort into a single large wooden crate and set it aside. Jack asked, "Despite it being a shame to leave all of it behind for someone else to find, why bother boxing it up? Isn't it a waste of time?" Matlock suggested that it be taken back as far as Driscoll's warehouse and then stored, at least temporarily, in the vault there. No one was quite sure why but it seemed like the right thing to do. Kind of a like an insurance policy or savings account for the residents of Sanctuary.

The more they looked the more they realized that there was no way for them to bring back all that they wanted to. Even attaching trailers to Juicer and the F350 they couldn't bring back a tenth of what Sanctuary could use. Just as they were all reaching the last stages of extreme frustration Jim mentioned that if we could find a way around the gridlock he knew where some more big vehicles were parked.

Over where the cruise ships loaded and unloaded supplies and luggage there was a supply dock with nearly all of the vehicles they eventually chose. The fuel tanker they found near the Port Authority's building. There was another tanker they had to leave there that was about half as full as the one they brought home with them because there weren't enough drivers. That's on the list to go back and pick up soon. The propane truck was parked behind the Hilton where it must have been making a delivery when it was abandoned. The front windshield was cracked but it was still drivable at the speeds they would be going.

By the time they finally gathered the last of the convoy and had pulled them into the warehouse, it was getting dark. They closed the warehouse and secured all the entrances. The pirates had already blacked all of the windows so that when they started up the generator (sound proofed by the pirates and vented to the outside) hooked to a series of halogen lights no one could see from the outside in. This let the men continue working late into the night, even after they had called in and let us know their status at 10 PM.

Because they had been up so late after such an exciting day everyone slept in an extra hour except for Matlock who had taken the last watch. He called in to say they were on schedule and then woke everyone up. They were stopping by the library on their way home.

Here they ran into a few problems. Some of the zombies that had seemed to leave the preceding day had returned. Scott knew for sure at least two of the zombies were the same ones because he recognized them in their distinctive clothing. They were likely college kids from the University of Tampa just across the bridge from the library. You don't forget a female zombie with fluorescent pink hair and one breast missing or a male zombie with the types of piercings this one had, revealed because he was wearing no pants.

Now we have to wonder if zombies are drawn to the same areas over and over for some reason. That would seem to mean they have rudimentary recognition skills. Now we have new questions to ponder. Do all zombies have the recognition skills or were some just fundamentally "smarter" than their fellow zombies? Was it a true form of intelligence or simply another bit of life being mimicked using the vestiges of information left in the infected human brain?

When they finally made it over to the library there were too many zombies to be worth the trouble and time it would take to clear them out. Hearing this I wasn't the only one disappointed. Brandon became almost clinically depressed. OK, maybe that is being a bit facetious but he certainly was morose until Matlock said that they wanted to make another run downtown within the next couple of days with the library and that second tanker as their primary goals.

It was more challenging driving back to Sanctuary than they had anticipated. While most everyone had rudimentary experience using the large trucks, driving them for any distance was another story. Angus had cleared a good sized swath when they were on their way into Downtown but he had to make several places even wider on the way back home and when it wasn't possible, as it turned out to be in three places, they had to find alternative routes that would accommodate the large trucks.

Eventually they reached the Driscoll warehouse. It had not been disturbed. While the men off loaded the gold and such and then replaced it with the ammo they had stopped to pick up, they discussed how many people likely remained in the area. There may be small family-sized groups sprinkled throughout but with Hale Hollow, Ehren Cutoff, and MacDill gone it looks like we are the only enclave of any size in at least a thirty mile diameter. There's been a little radio traffic from way out east of the county, but it's been barely discernible from the static and comes very irregularly.

Matlock was going to call ahead, but just in case they were wrong and there were others out there listening, he maintained radio silence and waited until they were within sight of Sanctuary to make contact.

Now the trucks are all unloaded, the kids are tucked in, and most all of the adults in Sanctuary are likely asleep. Except for me; I sit here trying to get everything down in this journal. There are only a few pages left in this one and I'll be forced to begin a new book before the week is over most like. Seems like I don't get quite a month in any of these little books. I should probably switch to notebook paper and binders but I'm trying to save that stuff for the kids' schooling. Like everything else, when it's gone it will be gone and what we'll do to replace it is anyone's guess. Go back to writing in the sand or on clay tablets?

I should be happy. The Downtown Run 1 has brought in more than I ever imagined it would. More than any of us imagined it would. Tomorrow we'll all take turns trying to help Dante' and Hank organize the remaining stuff before storing it away. That's been a heck of a job to do by hand, though a necessary one. Rachel and Waleski have locked up all of the drugs into one of the exam rooms until they can sort and count what they have and see if any of it is too out of date to be worth keeping.

Day after tomorrow there is going to be a Downtown Run 2. This one will focus on the smaller pirate stashes that Jim knows of, the second tanker, and the library. Scott, Angus, and Jim will certainly be going on this run. I'm not sure whether Matlock or Dixon will be leading it. My understanding is that Brandon might go with his long list of books and movies that everyone has requested and so that we can make the most out of a single library run.

Dixon is taking Junie's defection and the evacuation of MacDill somewhat in stride but you can tell he is also kind of angry and shocked by both events. If it was Matlock I'd know how to talk to him about it, but Dixon's an odd duck in some ways. Of course why I feel it is my responsibility to make everyone feel better is beyond me. I'm still stuck trying not to put my foot in it and say something I shouldn't to Waleski who really has reason to be upset. I'll leave Dixon to Rachel since she wanted him so much.

And now, it really is time for me to go to sleep. Scott was barely cognizant by the time he finally agreed to go to bed. I was just too wound up and still had too much stuff to put away. Thank goodness for solar lamps and wind up flashlights or I'd be sitting here getting an ulcer in the dark unable to get rid of my stress by writing or working. Scott gets angry when he sees how tired I am some mornings but I ask him would he rather see me walking around and a little tired or in a grave from a heart attack? He hates it when I ask him that. I get tired of hearing him get angry about the same old things. I think we both need a vacation.


	73. Day 116

**Day 116 (Friday)**

The Downtown Run 2 was another success; if you call bringing in a bunch of stolen goods and eradicating the remaining pirates/zombies in the area to do it. The group ran into a lot fewer problems than they had the first time and those they did run into – nothing is ever perfect in this world – were easily handled using established protocols . The only major problem ironically, was convincing Brandon that there was no way he could bring everything back from the library that he wanted to. We simply don't have the room to store books that aren't going to get read more than once or twice. Matlock finally had to put his foot down and say useful books or classic literature or books that completed a series that we already have part of. Scott said Brandon still managed to fit a few books in there that weren't really on the list.

Our library has literally begun to overflow the space we have available. It was so bad today that Scott and Jerry agreed to put some of their other projects on hold to help Brandon build floor to ceiling and wall-to-wall shelves in most of the rooms. They even gutted the kitchen and put a small efficiency set up in the small room he converted to an apartment. With several of the men working it won't take much longer for them to finish and then Brandon will be able to begin organizing all of the books that have come in. Some of the books however will be stored in other locations. I've agreed to keep most of the cooking and gardening books, at least until those subject rooms are organized enough to see how many will fit. Dixon has a lot of the area maps (topography, geology, etc.) in the office of the house he is in. The books on electronics and ham radio and similar such subjects are in the radio shack. I think some of the animal books are sitting in boxes in my kids' bedrooms and I'll be glad to get them out from underfoot. The really useful books are getting too spread out and we need a check out system as well so we can keep track of where they all are.

The six who went on the DR2 were Matlock, Scott, Angus, Jim, Brandon, and Cease. Scott said that Brandon did a whole lot better than he expected him to. With a goal the boy seems to be as driven as any of the grown men; maybe we've been undervaluing him all this time. Wouldn't that be a kick in the pants. Here we've got another, nearly grown, male and we haven't been letting him work to his full potential.

There's a possibility of a third downtown run in December to hit a couple of security offices in some of the skyscrapers as well as the University of Tampa; but we've got too much on our plates here to even consider bringing in more stuff before we've found a place to put everything we already have. There hasn't been much rain so tarps have kept things dry that haven't been put away yet.

Don't get me wrong, I'm more than thankful to have all the stuff we have and I'm certainly no neat freak; but having things shoved and piled all willy-nilly is making me nervous and cranky. I can't find anything I need and when I can I have to move a bunch of stuff before I can get to it. For instance, Scott and I don't smoke but I've been collecting all the cigarettes, cigars, and pipe tobacco I run across. I know that sounds strange but there is a method to my madness. Waleski and Rachel had a hard time understanding why I wanted them to put some of the cigarettes and cigars over in the hospital. Well, it's a natural remedy for stings but they just don't believe me and call it an old wives' tale. Hope they get stung on the butt.

So what happens? Sure enough a couple of kids were pulling weeds out of the hedges to throw on the compost today and wham, they got attacked by those tiny wasps that build their homes on the undersides of big leaves and mother-in-law type plants. I have to stop what I'm doing, remember where I stuck the carton of cigarettes since I didn't have room in my medicine cabinet, and then dig them out without making too big of a mess.

Bekah and Laura got stung pretty good; Laura worse than Bekah. I showed Sarah what to do and she wet the tobacco from inside the cigarettes and put it on Bekah's stings like a poultice; it acts as an analgesic sort of. I then went over to give Tina some of the tobacco to put on Laura's bee stings. Waleski and Rachel were on death watch for the two poor souls that we still hanging on in the hospital and weren't really available for house calls anyway. I'm wondering to myself if maybe all the houses shouldn't have little "home remedy" kits available when Dante' and Hank came in talking about the volume of inventory we have and how long they think it will last. That conversation catches my attention and I was glad that Josephine and Patricia were in charge of watching the food dinner so that I could listen in to what they had to say.

They don't think adult-sized clothes and shoes are going to be a problem as long as we can keep them in good repair. In kids' clothes we are missing a lot of sizes and the inventory is low so we'll eventually need to find a way to bump that up but we are making do for now.

Ammo is in good supply though it certainly won't last forever so Matlock's experiment with making explosives are going to helpful … and not just fun for the big boys (aka the men of Sanctuary). They've been blowing up groups of zombies, some dilapidated structures along the fire break from the Big Fire, and basically having fun putting holes where there weren't holes before. I'm worried someone is going to get hurt but try telling that to those men. Honestly. At least Scott promised to keep James and David out of it. Seriously, if they don't get the measuring and packing down better someone really is going to get hurt and I'm not just being a mother hen. I'm always being treated like the wet blanket but sure enough every year on Independence Day we had some seriously injuries here in the Bay Area because of firecrackers. These things the men are concocting are a whole heck of a lot more powerful that firecrackers.

They kept talking but when they spotted me they wanted me to take a look at the ledger that they keep for the food supply. After a few calculations I figure we easily have a year's worth of food for about 50 people so long as we use things wisely and don't have any unexpected losses due to spoilage. We can make that last twice as long … most of it anyway … by growing as much fresh as we can. I then asked them whether they had factored in wild foods and they gave me this blank look. Look like one of my next projects will be to start putting some wild foods on the table to get people used to them so that they can supplement the commercially canned stuff that will eventually run out. There are a whole slew of trees behind the orange grove that I need to get to that have lots of native Florida fruits just about ready for picking. The former owner of the grove had, for a little while, given growing native fruits a try to see if he could develop a specialty market but the trees didn't produce enough to be worth the trouble of developing the contacts.

Meat will also be a problem for a group this size, but we might be able to get around that by hunting and by raising our own if we can grow the field crops needed to keep our own domestic livestock fed. And that in turn means making sure those fields have the nutrients necessary to grow the crops and it also means finding a way of plowing and cultivating those fields … which means fuel. If we can just get the system started I can see where it would be self-sustaining; it's just a matter of getting it going the first couple of seasons. But first we need the animals.

Sweeteners and salt are going to be a problem come about 18 months from now I think. The salt we can probably get around by harvesting sea salt. That is a long and tedious project. I know I read about this same problem in Alas Babylon but I don't think it's going to be realistic for us to just find a sand bar to harvest from. Nope, we are going to have to eventually trek to the Gulf which is a heck of a lot further than we've been so far. I'm not even able to think about that yet. And whether the salt that results will even be useable is another question that I don't have a lot of experience with. I think Brandon brought back some books on the daily life of the Seminole Indians from the library; at least I hope he did. Then there is the Seminole Museum over by the Hard Rock Café. Wouldn't it be nice if we could simply trade for the salt. In the meantime if we don't need the salt for preservation then I can season food to taste salty using herb blends. That'll help a little.

The sweet stuff we have won't last forever either. We will eventually need be able to create our own. Honey would be one way to have our own sweetening but I know next to nothing about beekeeping. I hope someone else in our group does. The sooner we establish a bee colony the better. They'll also help us in the garden and in the orchard by pollinating.

There are so many, many, many things that we have to find solutions for. The tankers have temporarily relieved the fuel shortage problem but that's just one more thing that won't last forever. We've exhausted siphoning all of the cars we can find. A lot of people, as well as gas stations, had simply run out of fuel by the time the power finally went out for good. Even if we do run across vehicles that still have fuel in them we have to be very careful and make sure it is still good and won't gum up the engines. We've run through an amazing amount of Stabil (brand name fuel stabilizer for long term storage) and that's just one more thing in short supply.

We are looking at creating bio-diesel but it won't be easy. The one I'm most familiar with is where you take used cooking oil and send it through this kinda percolator system to create a kind of fuel that you can run in vehicles that had had their systems altered. We don't have cooking oil in that amount though we are saving what we can't reuse even one more time. Jerry, who was interested in that sort of thing pre-NRS, said you can also make bio-fuels from garden waste and other bio materials. Well, we use the garden waste in our compost piles so that we can grow more food in better soil and right now there is barely enough of that for what we need. I don't see how we are also going to use it for bio-fuel. I mentioned reading about methane as a fuel as the animals make quite a bit of manure and the left over from the process could still be used to enrich the garden soil. Jerry said he would look in his books and see if it was feasible. Then the other fuel we might be able to develop is the "white lightening" type. It would mean growing more … a lot more … corn or potatoes or other starchy vegetable. But, if we could make a mash and then run it through a still we might be able to make something pure enough to run in an engine without too many problems. Angus perked right up and I think he and Scott are already just about ready to get into some trouble with their designs and plans; like two school boys who are up to mischief.

I've been giving this some serious thought but I don't know how we are going to be able to do all of this work ourselves. I mean I know we have about forty people but a good number of those are just kids. And even with the kids doing an adult share of the work the diversity of projects is almost overwhelming. I was hoping that we could come up with some kind of trading partnership with Hale Hollow and New Geraci … even with MacDill … but all of that has been shot to flinders over the last couple of weeks. It's nice not to have to worry about other people too much but at the same time a little bit of trading would have been nice. Now we have to figure out how to do everything ourselves and I just don't know how we are going to make that happen.

I know I might be borrowing trouble but I just can't stop worrying about stuff like that. Scott says that I'm my own worst enemy and maybe so. Doesn't change the facts however. We are on our own. Totally and completely. If we can't make it work no one is going to be there to catch us when we fail. And Scott and I have the kids to think about even if some of the others are unattached or unencumbered. I sometimes wonder if it means as much to them as it does to me. Maybe I just look at things differently 'cause I'm female or married or a mother; who knows.

For instance, yesterday I just couldn't stand it anymore. I'm probably nosey on top of everything else. I finally found Waleksi and alone and just bluntly asked him how he was doing. At first he looked like he was a cross between being angry that I would bring it up, embarrassed that I would bring it up, and affronted that it was a really stupid question. But then he settled back down, he probably figured I wasn't going to leave it alone until he said something, and said that he was as well as could be expected. I mean what can you say to an answer like that. I tried to think of a comeback but couldn't so I patted his shoulder and made to leave and give him some privacy.

As I was leaving he said quietly, "I don't know what I did wrong. I know I'm not the most romantic guy but I gave her all I could … at least all she would accept. Was she just using me?"

Well, I was the one that started it so I turned around and leaned against the wall while he organized first aid supplies. "To be honest what she did blew me away. I didn't know her that well but I never would have expected her to just go off like that. Y'all kept things pretty private so I can't tell you whether you should have expected her to act like that or not."

"I know she still thought about her husband but that was OK with me. I mean, it's stupid to be jealous of a dead man. All we've got is today. We only have tomorrow maybe. Yesterday is already gone and it's not coming back. It's just crazy. Couldn't she have at least said goodbye?"

"I'm not excusing her but was her shoulder bothering her that badly?" I asked.

"Her shoulder, even with operations by a highly qualified surgeon, is never going to be what it once was. There was too much damage. She might be able to get close with surgery and a lot of long term therapy, but that's only might. And she knew this. Either she is living in a dream world or it was just an excuse. I haven't figured out which," he said with a shake of his head.

"I wish I could give you the answers you seek. I've been wondering how she could have just left. We have a good thing going here in Sanctuary. Not perfect, but good. And we have room to breathe. I imagine that whatever they are doing in the Midwest people are going to be crowded on top of one another and rationing is going to be more strict than what we have here."

"The thing is … " and he stopped, seemingly too embarrassed to go on.

"What?"

"Well, how would you like to be one of the few single people in a place like Sanctuary? All of the females are either attached or too young. It's not like I was expecting to find happily ever after the first time around but now I don't even have a place to look. There just isn't anybody. Hale Hollow is shot to hell and if they've made it I'll be surprised. MacDill is gone. Those other two groups we used to hear out on the other side of the county hardly make a sound anymore and they are too far away to pick up a date for Friday anyway." He ended on a lopsided grin letting me know that though upset he wasn't really heart broken. "What am I supposed to do, wait until some pretty little thing drops out of a tree and into my lap?"

I would have smiled if I hadn't been so sad for him. This Friday was our schedule Thanksgiving Celebration and everyone was really excited about it. The women had been planning for a week what we would cook and eat and the men had even agreed to set up a dance floor and radio. Waleski's words really made me think about the future of our little community. Who were our kids going to eventually pair up with when they became old enough?

Rachel called from the room where they had the two dying patients strapped down so our conversation was over but I had added another thing to my worry list that I couldn't do anything about.


	74. Day 117

**Day 117 (Saturday)**

Normally today would have been Baking Day but we still have so much inventorying to do and dealing with the storage issues and other things that the ladies and I just said basically to heck with it. We can't do everything at once. I wish I could have cloned myself about six or seven times just so I could get about half way caught up. And all of us would like to see the grounds picked back up, or at least organized, before our big Thanksgiving celebration this coming week. There are pallets and piles of stuff all over the flaming place and we don't know what we have, what we are running out of, what's critical, and what's ridiculously oversupplied.

Dante' and Hank don't want to put anything into storage until it gets inventoried and cataloged. I can understand that but again, we are dealing with the fact that there are only so many people that have to do so many jobs. We can't simply go out to a temp agency and hire someone to lend us a hand. They are going to have to compromise on some things.

Scott and Angus worked for a couple of the early hours but then took off to check out some of the properties down US41 to see if they could be turned into Angus' Outpost. I heard them talking stills, pool tables, and dart boards. Men. At least Angus was also talking about turning a downstairs area into a smokehouse, or at the very least having an add-on or outbuilding for that. Scott said Angus is getting the urge to explore and he wants to have a base of operations before he takes off.

That new guy Jim is turning out to be a godsend. Apparently he knows quite a bit about farming as he had a finger in some of that back in Australia. The climate and critters are different but the actual mechanics are the same. I've talked with him a few times and he seems nice, but kinda sad too. Apparently his fiancé opted to not come on this trip like she normally did when he travelled to the States so she's half a world away and he has no idea what her fate is. I hope he doesn't start pining for her. The realistic chance of him getting back to his home for any number of years isn't very high. If she is alive she has no idea about his fate either. It's just sad and depressing to think about a situation that can't be unique given the way things are. Do you start over or hold out hope and wait? If you wait, for how long? Gives me the emotional chills and I have to say yet again how grateful I am that our family was together when it happened. Although I think of my parents and brother and nephews and I just kind of go blank. Do you know I almost forgot what my nephews looked like? I could see everyone else's faces in my mind's eye but for the life of me I couldn't remember what they looked like. I had to pull out my photo album. Will it get so bad one day that I even start to forget what my parents looked like? Brrr. Enough of that thinking, back to the day-to-day.

In addition to sundry and other things I realized that if we didn't collect the pecans the squirrels were going to get them all. The huge old pecan tree in the neighborhood only produces every other year so we can expect to get zero of them next year squirrels or not.

I'm not much of a tree climber any more. In fact the older I get the less I like heights. I'm not scared, just not inclined as it were. I guess it's because the older you get the more you realize you aren't invincible; broken bones hurt and don't mend as well. Unfortunately all the limber young things were occupied helping Dante' and Hank; that left me and the littles.

I tied a heavy metal steering wheel on the end of a long rope. The steering wheel was off of a car that McElroy was disassembling in an effort to teach some of us in Sanctuary about car mechanics. On the other end of the rope I tied one of those roll-up emergency ladders that you can keep on the upper floor of a house or apartment. I used the steering wheel to throw the rope up and over a sturdy limb on the pecan tree. I kept pulling on the rope until the top of the ladder hooked over the limb. Once the ladder was secured at the top, I secured the bottom of the ladder to the ground with stakes so that I wouldn't' be swinging around anymore than necessary as I was climbing up and down.

I had the littles spread out tarps under the pecan tree then I did my imitation of a monkey. I climbed all over that dang tree shaking smaller branches and jumping up and down on bigger ones. Some of the tougher nuts I knocked off with a bamboo fishing pole. I nearly threw a bunch of nuts at my sons ... James and David saw what I was doing and starting making monkey noises. They thought they were so cute. I wish Scott had been around to see them; course he probably would have joined right in assuming seeing me up in the tree didn't give him a heart attack.

By the time I was finished I was shaky and the idea of coming back down that ladder was even more nauseating at that point than going up had been. But the reward was worth it. When the littles and I finished picking those nuts up off of the tarps we had nearly 60 lbs. of pecans. The nuts weren't the really big ones you can get from the commercial farms so figure about 50 to 60 nuts per pound harvested. I know where there is another pecan tree but it is outside the Wall by nearly three quarters of a mile. That one will just have to wait, assuming there are still nuts left by the time we can get to it.

I left the littles putting the nuts into mesh bags so they could be hung to dry and finish curing. I hope there is room in the food house garage or we'll have to figure out some other way to secure them against the squirrels. I can see it now, taking all that time just to provide an all-you-can-eat buffet for tree rats. That would really burn my biscuits.

The morning was already half over and I still hadn't done the one thing that I started out to do. I let myself get distracted from going over to the native fruit grove and checking to see what, if anything, was ready to harvest. I had to use my machete to get over there 'cause the grass had gotten so high. That's another problem we're having. Before, with all the mechanized assistance from yard equipment like lawn mowers, weed eaters, and leaf blowers, landscaping was a breeze; or you could hire a company to do it for you. Not any longer. Everything is returning to its natural state. If we are having trouble now, I can't imagine what it is going to be like this summer. I might need to consider letting the goats wander where they will; or tying them up in different places to keep the green spaces at a manageable height. It will be overtaking the roads before you know it.

When I finally got there I wished I had made the time to get over there earlier in the month. Frankly I could have kicked myself … nope, put myself in a butt kicking contest where I was the target. We've already lost a lot of from we could have really used. I'm becoming too dependent on this stuff we are gathering. That can't continue because sooner or later all that stuff is going to be used up or go bad. Then where will we be? We'll be only as far as we can take ourselves.

The fruit that could be harvested were soursops, sweetsops, atemoyas, velvet apples, black sapotes, aceroles, and ambarellas; none of which were what you would normally find in your average produce section of the grocery store. There were also some macadamias (the few the squirrels hadn't gotten), as well as some avocados, pomegranates, and canistels to go with the ones that I was already growing in tubs in my yard. I wonder how much I could have had if I hadn't left it so late.

I made fresh guacamole for dinner with the avocados. The macadamias I have to Sarah to pick through and bag up. That's something she could do from her sheltered place on the porch. She's doing better and is up walking more but she still tires easily. Waleski has warned us to give her as much time to get over this persistent cold thing she has going on so that it doesn't have a chance to turn into pneumonia, with her injuries still healing she could be a prime candidate for it.

Thinking of ways to work around Sarah and her needs I cleaned the fruit so that we could have a big tropical fruit salad to go with lunch. Poor kid, she misses the animals so much. Scott and I finally agreed to letting her keep the little pup in her room or on a leash with her all day it's just that is the jumpiest dog, she's whiney and irritable with most everyone. I think the trauma of losing her mother early and being out amongst the zombies has affected her. I told Sarah and Samuel that if that dog was going to stay around that they would need to train it. The last thing we need is to have a biter. She's already nipped me a couple of times.

After lunch I gave Patricia, Tina, and Becky a break in the food house. They would watch the littles and make dinner while Muriel and I stocked shelves. It's a lot easier to work when you aren't running into people all the time and frankly it's just getting complicated keep everything organized and know what we have and in which room and on which shelf it is located.

At first some people thought gutting the once really swank two story house was a terrible waste. Turns out even with about 3800 square feet plus a three car garage we are running out of room for food storage. The food comes and goes more quickly than you'd expect but I guess that is what it is. People will be forced to wise up once we've "harvested" everything we can from our surroundings and we are left with only what we can produce ourselves.

We've built all the shelving good and sturdy using materials from where we are gutting homes outside of the Wall. After we've recycled everything from those places we can we will raze them to the ground in a controlled burn or we'll use the dozer and push them over.

There's more than one reason for doing that. For security we need to move everything back from the Wall as far as we can. It will take away cover for any potential enemy; human, zombie, or anything else. For the number of animals we will need to be self-sufficient we will need more grazing space. Those empty buildings also pose a serious fire hazard. Lastly, and incidentally our most immediate problem, we need to get rid of population centers for rodents.

Rats and mice control is getting to be serious business. Mice and bugs may not be able to eat through metal cans and glass jars but they can destroy the paper label which makes it next to impossible to know what is inside. We've started dating and coding the cans with permanent markers like Sharpies.

Part of the problem is that those sticky traps and poisons that we used to just go to the store and buy will be gone before you know it. That leaves us with manual traps … and we have a whole trailer full of those suckers now … and natural remedies. I'm planting all sorts of herbs and such but we aren't for sure which works best yet. When it is time to plant hot peppers I'll be planting them in every corner I can find. Hot peppers will kill mice and they'll be renewable resources.

Renewable resources; that's what we really need to keep our eyes on. That's the real prize. All of this gathering does serve a purpose but as a way of life it sucks. Between the fuel and the time that it takes, not to mention the danger we get into, we waste (or spend depending on your view) nearly as many resources as we bring in.

Scott and Angus were back about thirty minutes before the sun set and the cold really set in. Angus has found him a place but it is going to take some work to fix it up. Right now it's not even safe for him to stay in overnight. There is a good fence around the back lot of the building and room to put one around the front if he winds up so inclined. It's a tri-level. The bottom floor abuts to a second floor which is actually a former loading bay and then the top level Scott thinks may have been the executive offices. It's not a huge place but it is decent sized. The one thing that it needs is a garage for juicer and I overheard some of the guys saying that they would help Angus go to Driscoll and grab aluminum and steel to put one together that would be attached at the loading bay.

Of course Angus wouldn't be Angus if he hadn't managed to bring back something for the kids. Scott said this one place they looked at (wound up being too hard to defend) was attached to a candy store. He brought back a whole case of those little Tootsie Rolls. I was peeling Johnnie and Bubby off of the ceiling and had the worst time getting them ready for bed. At least he waited to sugar them up until after dinner. The sugar high did wear off, it just was an hour and a half passed their bedtime when it finally happened.

Tomorrow I think some of the men said they are going to help Angus get started on his outpost. The rest of Sanctuary is opting to take a Day of Rest because we've been so busy. I have a little bit of gardening to do in the morning and I want to get another load of stuff onto the solar dehydrator. Also, I like to try and have a little bit of quiet time meditation on those days of rest but afterwards I'm going to take all the pomegranates I have right now and can some homemade grenadine. After that I really need to work on fine tuning the Thanksgiving menu, making sure we have the ingredients for everything, and setting up the schedule for what I need to start when this coming week. I also have some papers the kids wrote for school that I need to go over.

Geez. So much for a "Day of Rest." But you have to make hay while the sun shines. The sunshine might not last forever. It never does. Nothing ever lasts forever.


	75. Day 119

**Day 119 (Monday – wash day)**

Wash day … ugh! Wish we could have put it off as easily as we put off the baking on Saturday. I can't tell you how fun it's been doing the laundry outside in the cold. My hands, face, and lips are so chapped tonight I considered pulling out the Crisco and slavering it on thick. Wouldn't that have been attractive? I could just see Scott's face.

We had a pretty good cold snap yesterday and last night. It dipped into the 30s and snagged the tomato plants. I still had quite a few vines that were producing so I'm kinda bummed. I pulled some tomatoes that had a blush on them and put them on a table in the pool cage in full sunlight to let them finish ripening as much as they can. And then, between loads of laundry, I have been dealing with all the green tomatoes.

I made a batch of green tomato jam. Out of the green cherry tomatoes I made some green tomato dill pickles. I canned some other stuff too taking advantage of the supply of propane though it looks like I'll be getting that wood cook stove sooner rather than later. I canned sweet green tomato pickles, green tomato chutney, green tomato mincemeat, and ginger tomatoes. I've got two vines that that didn't get too badly damaged and I'm trying to save them until the oranges are ready to be picked, then I'll make tomato marmalade. It's been years since I've had any but I remember it as being really, really good.

My brain is so full of odd bits and pieces of trivia. Did you know that tomatoes were not cultivated in North America until the 1700s, and then only in home gardens like we are doing now? In colonial America (1620-1763) tomatoes were thought to be poisonous and were grown as an ornamental plant called the "love apple." The odor of the leaves (the smell is like uncured tobacco in my opinion) made people think the tomato was poisonous. President Thomas Jefferson was raising tomatoes by 1782. Most people of that century paid little attention to tomatoes. Only in the next century did they make their way into American cookbooks, always with instructions that they be cooked for at least three hours or else they "will not lose their raw taste." Talk about changing times. Argh, and talk about useless information. I don't know what good it actually does to know all of that stuff about tomatoes but it's better than some of the useless trivia that will occasionally ooze out of my brain cells.

I still have nearly two five gallon buckets of green tomatoes left. Tomorrow I'm going to make candied green tomatoes that can be used in fruit cake recipes. I want to use them for a fruit cake for our Thanksgiving Celebration and maybe also try to brandy a fruit cake and hold it for Christmas. I'll use the rest of the green tomatoes for a couple of pies for that day and maybe some fried green tomatoes which I really like as well. Tina, Trish and Patricia just kind of looked at me when I told them my plans but Muriel and Becky did a little happy dance. You can tell the folks that aren't from the South. I nearly fell out of my chair laughing after I finally convince Patricia to give the chutney I made a try. She's been munching on the last little bit of a jar that wasn't full enough to process all day long. She really can be funny when you get to know her. Or maybe she is just more relaxed or something. She certainly is a different woman than the one I first met three months ago.

Lucky for us the tomatoes were the worst of the damage in the garden. Quite a few things are producing their last as it is and I'm glad none of it is going to go to waste. Hopefully I won't have to pull all of it just yet. I wanted to wait and do as much of that as I could the day before Thanksgiving so that I could just put stuff right into a cook pot rather than having to preserve it or whatever. I did have Sarah, Bekah, and Laura snap and string a bunch of Yardlong beans for leather britches. I want to take advantage of the humidity being so low and get things dried as quick as possible. Normally our humidity runs between 90 and 100 percent even on "dry" days but with this cool weather I bet the humidity is below 80 percent. The wind should certainly help dry the beans more quickly.

Anyway, about the good news of my wood cook stove; well, not my wood cook stove exactly as it will be set up in the summer kitchen for all of Sanctuary's use. Right now all of the pieces are sitting under a big tent that Scott got at one of those equipment rental places. He and Jim also brought back a bunch of folding tables and chairs. The mismatched picnic tables we were using to feed people on will be moved over by the building we eventually plan on using as a schoolhouse.

When Scott and Jim were at the rental place picking up spare parts and all sorts of other amazing stuff they found the wood stove back in the back corner of a shed that looked like it was used for broken or defunct items that were rarely rented. Scott said it was heavy as heck to move and get up into the trailer until Jim found one of those dollies that is also a rolling jack sort of contraption. They still struggled to pull it up the ramp but overall it could have been worse. After I helped move some of the smaller pieces like the smoke stack I'm surprised they didn't strain something. It still needs to be cleaned and put back together but hopefully that process will be started tomorrow. I wouldn't cry if someone found another wood cook stove. It would be nice to have one inside our house just in case but Scott's got a plan for that.

Scott will fabricate some "pot bellied" type wood stoves using some metal drums that were stacked over by Angus' Outpost. You can only cook on top of those but that'll be better than the nothing we have right now unless you count the propane camp stove that I've been using at night to make Kitty's bottles with. Scott's making a stove for Angus, one for our place, one or two extra to go in the summer kitchen, one for the hospital then everyone else's will be first come first serve if they give him a hand getting them finished. He's making them assembly line style so they should go a little faster but he is only one man with a lot of other projects in process.

The main problem with installation of the wood stoves will be making a chimney and venting. Angus is going to vent his into a second floor "smoke house." The summer kitchen will be easy because it will already be open to the outside. Scott's going to install ours in place of our current oven and then vent the exhaust through the roof where our microwave and oven exhaust fan used to vent through. It shouldn't be a problem getting it to work that way. Its going to be getting the dry wood to keep the wood stoves going that is going to require a lot of manual labor. Cease, David, James, and Marty took the F350 and an open trailer and went over to a tree cutting service not too far from Vandervort Rd. and snagged all the wood they had laying around. That will get us started and we'll just keep trimming back any trees that are near the Wall and set that for curing.

We've got other changes coming to our home as well. Matlock and Becky are making it official. They are going to have a ceremony at the opening of our Thanksgiving Celebration and then that night they'll move into a house that they picked out and have been renovating. It will definitely be strange to have our house relatively back to ourselves. That only leaves Melody, Belle, and Trent and I'm not so sure that Melody and Cease won't have made a commitment by Christmas. Seems like they are certainly on their way and pretty quickly too.

I thought Rachel and Dixon would have made some kind of open commitment and moved in together by now but either they've cooled off or something else is going on. I wonder if Dixon is waiting to see if things work out between Patricia and Jack? Or maybe he's enjoying being single for a while. More than likely it has at least a little to do with Samuel. The boy isn't openly hostile to Rachel and Dixon but there's certainly some avoidance going on. He spends quite a bit of time at our house when he isn't on duty or doing chores. Normally I'd ask what was going on but I don't want to have to deal with the drama of potentially taking sides. I've got enough to deal with.

I nearly freaked thinking that Rose and David would want a commitment/marriage ceremony and a home of their own soon. I was getting so knotted up about it – and Rose doesn't really talk to me as much as she used to – that Scott just sat the four of us down on Sunday and we discussed it. They say they know they believe they want to spend the rest of their lives together but that they also believe that neither of them is ready for that kind of step yet. Rose won't turn 18 for a couple of months and she wants to complete more of her apprenticeship first before the responsibility of husband and home get laid on her. David, who can be really blunt, said that sex and marriage was more responsibility than they wanted right now. Scott and I appreciated his candor but we got a little green around the gills when he said it, especially when Rose added that she was nowhere ready for kids of her own. Woweee. I wish there was like an owner's manual for children; this parenting thing does not get any easier as the kids get older. At least we know now and I can relax and not worry quite so much. But seriously, thinking about my kids having sex turns my stomach inside out.

More change is in the air. Patricia is thirteen weeks pregnant and starting to show just a little bit. Watching her I find myself missing being pregnant every once in a while but at the same time I'm relieved its nothing I have to be scared about happening to me. Pregnancy is a temporary state. Parenthood is forever and I've got almost more parenting to do than I can keep up with. I finally told Scott that Johnnie, Bubby, and Trent were getting into so much trouble that I needed some serious male help. He's put those scamps to work and for the last couple of days they haven't had the time or the energy to get up to mischief. They are picking up fallen branches from around Sanctuary and moving them to the new, centralized large wood pile. They are fetching and carrying anything and everything that the men need them to. And they are going to be helping with more of the big chores like emptying stuff into the compost piles. Come December they are going to help harvest the citrus trees and work on keeping the grove mowed down. Samuel also asked If he could have some help cleaning the animal pens and Scott was delighted to volunteer the boys for the job.

Scott has also taken over reviewing their school work each night. That means that not only do they have to do their chores to his satisfaction but their school work has to be done to his satisfaction each day as well. Talk about a learning experience. It's been so quiet the last two days that I almost haven't known what to do with the extra time I haven't had to spend getting those three mischief makers out of trouble.

I simply cannot forget to write down the next couple of items. First, we have a little herd of cows. No bulls but four of the prettiest little heifers you could ask for. OK, cows aren't exactly beauty pageant material but whoever eventually reads this must surely understand how great this is. Now if we can just find a bull … or maybe two. That means the lady cows and the bull can get friendly, have a calf or two, and then we'll have fresh cow's milk, cheese, butter, sour cream, etc., etc., etc.; at least for a little while. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. We already get a little milk from the goats but only enough for Kitty with a little left over for cooking. Cease and the boys spotted the cows when they went to get the wood. The poor things were skittish and hungry as they became stuck behind a concrete fence when a large limb fell and blocked the gate shut. They were crying so pitifully and the boys had to clear out a bunch of zombies that had gathered around the wall. After the zombies were gone, the heifers came as easy as you please when they were offered grass. Cease tied them in a string and they drove them slowly home.

We've also added some more hens. Samuel had gone outside the fence to help check the Wall for damage or maintenance issues after the usual morning gate clearing of zombies and he found three little hens sitting in a low slung tree branch. It was early so they were still pretty sleepy and he was able to gather them up in his coat and brought them to me. We've got them penned separately until we make sure they don't have any disease but they look pretty healthy if a little thin.

The final thing I want to mention was the look on Jim's face when he saw our Ostrich. His eyes bugged and his mouth fell open. It was so funny. I know I shouldn't have laughed but the look on his face was priceless.

He asked, "Do I want to know the story?"

All I could say was, "Well, he just sort of followed us home from Busch Gardens."

"[Highly colorful expletive phrase not repeated by me but it was really funny]," Jim sputtered.

After I told him the story he proceeded to tell me just how dangerous ostriches could be. I had known they were cranky birds and strong and could do some damage but I hadn't really considered them any more dangerous than your average wild animal; the kind where with proper attention you'd be fine. Seems I was wrong. Ostriches are peculiar and cranky. They don't like being watched while they eat which explains a few things. Seems we were also over-feeding the large bird and didn't need to have a huge tub of water for it because ostriches don't drink much, they make their own water internally from what they eat.

Other fun and strange facts I learned about the ostrich is that it can run up to 40 mph for sustained periods. A female ostrich usually lays about 60 eggs per year but can lay up to 100 if it has enough feed and feels like it; and an ostrich egg is equal to about two dozen chicken eggs. Ostrich leather is just about the toughest leather in the world. And that the kicking and toe claw of the ostrich can be very deadly; the front end of the bird is nothing to mess with either. Ostriches have one of the best feed to weight gain ratio of any land animal in the world and are also one of the only environmentally friendly animals in the world. Who knew?

Really, our ostrich is more of a pet than anything else. OK, sort of a pet. OK … a drain on our resources but the kids love her. And it's a her and not a him … at least Jim says so. We've had to change its name to Olivia. If we could find a male and maybe another female then we could have a breeding group and we'd get a lot of meat and eggs that way. For now I'm just happy to have some of the mystery solved about the animal. Jim told me there's plans for another trip to Busch Gardens or over to Lowry Park Zoo. If he sees any of the beasties he said he'd try and bring back another pair.

The other thing he mentioned is that ostrich meat looks like beef and cooks like beef and is really healthy. Yeah, I can really see trying to explain to the kids that we were going to eat Olivia. But, if it comes to that we will. I don't mind them getting attached to a few of the animals, that's just kids for you, but farm animals exist for only one reason and that is to feed and clothe the farmer. I'd prefer not to eat the bird, just like I'd prefer not to eat Mrs. Broody, but I won't let the kids go hungry. That could be years off however. Last fact Jim told me is that ostriches are really long lived … as long as thirty to seventy years. The blasted bird could outlive me for Pete Sake.

Tomorrow's another full day so I'm going to put my pen down here. Scott asked me if I wanted to go on a gathering run and I agreed though it wasn't my first choice; I've got so much to do. It's only going to be for a couple of hours in the morning so it shouldn't be too bad. I didn't want to hurt his feelings and besides I think he and Angus are up to something. They had the same "innocent" expression on their face that Johnnie gets when he has a secret. I guess I'll find out when I find out. If I start worrying about what their shenanigan is going to be this time I'll never get any sleep.


	76. Day 120

**Day 120 (Tuesday)**

I'm not exactly sure how I would categorize today. It certainly ran the gamut.

I'm not what you would call cranky in the morning. I kinda enjoy getting up early and having 30 minutes of quiet to myself before the normal chaos of the day starts. I need that quiet before the chaos; it gives me a chance to collect my thoughts. Today however Scott set the alarm to go off at 4 AM and was elbowing me in the side saying, "Wake up sleeping beauty. Time to get your rear in gear."

Like I said, not normally cranky. Normally. But there are some things that just put pepper in my wheaties and that's one of 'em. Not only that but his excessive exuberance woke up Kitty who started howling to be fed which in turn woke up everyone else.

Scott is not normally like this in the morning. He's normally one who likes to be left alone until he pulls himself together so this excessive show of jocularity immediately put me on guard. The man was up to something, the question in my mind was whether I was going to enjoy it as much as he seemed to think I would.

Breakfast was porridge with enough different flavorings set out that everyone could fix their favorite. It didn't take long for everyone to pile into our outdoor dining hall and grab a bowl full, myself included.

I nearly choked though when I found out what we would be travelling in. I just knew something had to be up. Scott had gotten the Avalanche up and running. That copper-colored, chromed up dream machine had been sitting in our carport for months. I hadn't had the heart to ask Scott to do something with it even though it really was in the way.

Dixon and Matlock were both there at the gate to let us out in the Avalanche followed by Angus and McElroy in Juicer. I thought they were coming with us but they only went as far as Angus' Outpost. We continued on driving toward USF.

When I tried to get Scott to tell me where we were going he said it was a surprise. I was so tired that I would start to nod off only to be awoken each time Scott would drive over a zombie. "First time out and she'll already need a wash," Scott chuckled.

"Ha. Ha." I thought. "He thinks he's being funny." We finally made it through the maze of derelict vehicles and were over by the Citrus Park Mall area. I hadn't been in this part of town since before NRS hit the US. With the economy the way it was I tried to avoid the temptations of places like the Mall; I guess it was maybe May or June but it seemed like a lifetime. Then Scott pulls into a shopping center and I started to smile.

"You stinker! Why wouldn't you tell me? I could have brought containers to put stuff in," I squealed.

"Because my love, it was a surprise and I already had the boys put things in the trailer to hold all your goodies," he grinned.

We had pulled up in front of a huge craft and fabric store. It may not have been that exciting for other people but I was in hog heaven. We only had a couple of hours so I set to it with vigor. I pushed buggies to the fabric center and loaded every bolt of material, every spool of thread, every card of buttons there were. I grabbed notions like zippers, elastic, Velcro, hooks, pins and needles. I grabbed sewing kits, scissors, thimbles, quilting templates, measuring tapes, and transfer paper and every other thing from the racks. From there I headed into yarns, laces, and edgings. You could have put me on one of those stupid game shows that tested to see how much I could pack into a shopping cart.

I packed all of the patterns in large plastic bins. After I had emptied the fabric and sewing part of the store I went over to the craft part. Glues, beads, wire, sequins, paints, stains, varnishes, etc. all went into tubs. Books and supplies for candy making and candle making were thrown together with supplies for soap making and "Junk to Treasure" projects. Scrapbooking, leather working, wood burning, and rock polishing; you name it, I grabbed it off the shelves.

We had to stop briefly twice to deal with an accumulation of zombies. That should have bothered me but it didn't and frankly we were less harassed than I thought we would be. Maybe it was just because it was the two of us and we weren't making that much noise.

I couldn't take everything; that would have been impossible and made no sense. But I think I did a fair job of getting everything useful and then some. I even grabbed all the kids' stuff like stickers, clay, markers, marbles, and I can't even remember what all at the moment.

We finally got everything packed up and I was ready to get home and find a place for it all but Scott wasn't pulling out.

"What's wrong? I thought we needed to get home."

"Look Sissy, we need to talk."

Oh boy, no woman wants to hear those words out of her man's mouth. They are always a prelude to something that they are not going to want to hear.

"I take it then my surprise was just to put me in a good mood," I said instantly disappointed and somewhat hurt.

"Yes. I mean no. Dammit. Look Sissy, Angus and I found this place Sunday and I was going to bring you here as a surprise anyway but then something came up yesterday … and … I wanted to bring you now in case … "

I sighed, "In case what? What is it? What could possibly be so bad that you had to do it this way?"

After a moment's silence he said something I hadn't been expecting at all, "The day after the Thanksgiving celebration Dixon, McElroy, Angus, and I are heading up to your parents' place."

"What?!" I cried. I was shocked; torn between anger, disbelief, and a hidden hope.

In a nutshell, as Scott explained it, we need information. We need to know if there are other groups out there like ours. We need to develop some kind of lines of communication if possible. We knew from Jim that Orlando was history. We knew from Hank and Trish that most of south Florida was toast and the few enclaves there that remained were violent and/or very isolationistic. That left going due north.

The men were going to take Interstate 75 as far north as Gainesville and then cut west, cross through the little rural communities and stop at my parents' place before pushing through to Chiefland, FL. In Chiefland they would pick up US19 and then return south along the coast to SR54 and from SR54 over to US41 which would bring them home.

"We don't plan on being gone more than four or five days tops and we have the radios."

"Four or five days?! Scott …" I was flabergasted.

"You can't tell me you don't want to know about your parents and brother … "

I huffed, "Of course I do, but …"

"No buts Sissy. It has to be done and as many times as we've travelled in that area I'm the one that needs to go. I know all the little back roads and the communities too, especially if we run short of supplies. And if … look, if I see your parents I'm sure I'll be able to convince them to come back with me."

"You're going whether I'm OK with this or not aren't you."

He got real serious and said "Yeah."

I didn't know what to say but the words just fell out of my mouth anyway. "I hate this. I hate it with a passion and you have to promise me that no matter what you'll fight your way back home. I won't be like Jim, not knowing, perhaps never knowing for sure. I absolutely refuse. I won't sit around wondering and hoping. I'll come looking for you, do you understand me?"

"I promise honey. Oh Sissy, don't cry."

But I did. I was having so much fun and then to just have to deal with the idea of Scott going so far away just got to me. Before it would have only taken three hours from our front door to my parents' front door and been no big deal. Now, who knows how long it will take? It would be like they were going to the dark side of the moon. And what if they ran into another big zombie horde?

We returned to Sanctuary in near silence. What was there to say? As soon as we pulled in I headed inside to change. I fed Kitty who was getting fussy and then I went outside to start the fruitcakes I had wanted to bake. At some point during the morning someone had put the wood stove together. It was a beautiful classic and I wanted to be happy and admire it but I just couldn't. Everyone was giving me a wide berth until Patricia walked over and sat down and started cleaning carrots.

I quietly asked, "So who knew and for how long have y'all known?"

Patricia answered, "Matlock and Dix called a meeting right after you and Scott pulled out. I guess some people knew before then but most of us didn't. I'm guessing it would have been better handled in a different way."

I humphed and said, "It certainly could not have hurt to try and let me know in a different way. I know I can be emotional. I'm probably every bit the mother hen that everyone is always joking about. But you know, I think overall I've held up pretty damn well. No major hysterics. As little drama as possible."

"Better than me," Patricia said.

"Patricia, I'm sorry, I didn't mean … look, I just don't get why everyone always treats me like I'm too fragile for reality or like a bomb about to go off. No, I don't like the plan but I understand the reason for it. I really don't like it that Scott is one of the ones going. I didn't like the delivery that's for sure. But it's like I'm being treated like a child who'll throw a tantrum and ruin everything."

"Hey, I'm on your side. But I can see Scott's too. You can get touchy and it's not like there are too many places you guys can go to have a private argument … um … conversation, whatever. And the thing about stopping at your parents' … the way I understand it Scott had to fight tooth and nail for the concession and only the fact that Angus said he and Scott would just take off on a side trip of their own finally made Dix back down."

"Is it that big a problem? Are they going to be going that far out of their way to check on my parents?"

"I don't think it was that so much, more the appearance of favoritism. That and Dix still doesn't know how to categorize Scott."

"What? I don't understand. What has that got to do with anything?"

"Look, don't take this the wrong way but you and Scott don't really fit in the puzzle the way that is very comfortable for Dix. Matlock and his people are easy, they are almost military. Dix and his crew, they are military .. or were. The other civilians also fit his preconceived idea of people being pegs and everything fitting together a certain way. But Scott … and now Angus … are both very alpha males. I suspect Jim too though I think he's laying low on that until he finds his place. The good thing is they are all good guys. They aren't the type to constantly need to jockey for position. They are what they are, take it or leave it. They basically say "Follow if you want but I don't need to be followed to be a leader. As for following, I'll do it if it fits my needs and those I take care of." Ninety-nine percent of the time this works out but it's that one percent when Dix isn't sure how to handle it. The fact that he owes so much to Scott adds to the confusion. And now with Samuel preferring to be at your house rather than being in Dix's shadow, well that makes it even harder on him."

"Argh! This makes my head hurt. Is Dixon's attitude something else I need to worry about?"

"No. Not really. Dix will get over it. He's just having a hard time adjusting … in his own way. I think I was actually better prepared for the split than he was. I think that all of that combined with the MacDill pull-out and Junie's defection has rattled him more than he's willing to admit; tack all of that onto the already surreal NRS pandemic and he has to redefine himself and redefine his normal operating procedures in ways that he never anticipated. I also don't think Rachel is making it any easier on him for some reason."

That's someplace I didn't feel like going. "Look, I don't think I want to know … "

Patricia quickly broke in and said, "Look, I'm not saying this to gossip or hurt them. That's not at all what this is about. I do want you to understand Dix a little better. He's a simple man with simple tastes. He's used to getting his way so easily that he simply took it for granted and it didn't mean much to him. Maybe it was too easy for him. Now things are different. Very different, and he's struggling to change with the times. It'll happen but it'll be a challenge for him. His inflexibility is one of the things that caused us problems over the years."

She took a breath and continued, "And look at Angus. He needs to take this trip. I don't know what he was like before but he reminds me of a man I once knew. That man had to seek out challenges or he would have withered and died. I think Angus is the same. I don't know what McElroy's thing is; he's a hard one to get to know. But Scott strikes me as another one who needs fresh challenges and new goals on a regular basis."

After thinking about it I said, "In other words you think the men all need this trip on a personal level; it's not just for us as a group."

Without hesitation she answered, "Yes. And I think Scott needs your support or he'll pull out even if it means a personal setback and disappointment. He'll put your wants above his needs."

While we worked I mulled it all over. I also mulled over the unexpected fact that Patricia might turn out to be the best friend I've ever had next to Scott and my parents. I damn the whole zombie situations from start to finish every day, but I've certainly been gifted with some good things as well. I need people in my life that don't just give me the answers I want to hear because they love me too much or are afraid of my reaction. I need people that care enough to tell me the truth and spell out the bottom line when I don't want to see it.

"Do me a favor? Could you watch these cakes? I won't be long."

She grinned and said, "Sure. And he's over in the NW guard tower if you're interested."

"Thanks," I said as I left to go apologize for being such a prig.

Amazingly there were no interruptions so Scott and I turned the apology into some much needed make-out-and-then-some time. I think everyone was purposefully giving us some privacy. But I was determined that not even the zombies were going to take this time away from us. I thought woe to the man, woman, or child that knocked before we were ready. It was a tad on the cool side but that just made us laugh even more. Nothing quite like resurrecting those teenage hormones ever so often. We had been so burdened with the lack of privacy and time that to suddenly have it to spend with one another, even if it was but for a very short time, was very rejuvenating.

It's not like the dread and worry have gone away. To the contrary it's with me with every breath I take and I keep thinking of things that could happen, that could go wrong. Overlaying this is also the dread of what Scott could find at my parents' place. I know what he could find and yet I don't want to know and finally put it to rest one way or the other. It hurts now but I know it could hurt infinitely worse.

After Scott and I came down from the guard tower we headed our separate ways once again. He to meet up with Angus and McElroy to discuss logistics and I had a meeting with a "new" cookstove that I needed to get to know.

When I got back the other women had returned from where ever they were hiding and had started to slice and dice for the evening's menu. We were having one of my favorite meals; cornbread, stewed potatoes, and white beans with ham hocks. The hocks were from the warthog but to be honest I couldn't tell the difference. Apparently on a certain level pork is pork.

Everyone enjoyed the foray into very traditional Southern cooking because there wasn't a cornbread crumb left. And both the bean pot and potato pot had been scrapped clean making for uber-easy clean up. Heck, even all the plates looked like they had been licked nearly spotless.

There were four hocks so each of the big dogs got a leftover bone. The pup got the leftovers that Kitty had made a mess out of plus a little puppy kibble. I've been grinding table food up for Kitty for about a week now and she eats it more often than not though I wouldn't say that all of it actually makes it into her mouth. Sarah was up as well and we bundled her up and let her walk with her big brother and Samuel to see the cows as all the animals were put to bed for the night. The boys wound up carrying her back and she was crying and embarrassed. It took me a bit to calm her down and convince her that yes she would eventually finish getting better and be able to do all the things she did before with the animals. But she's just an eleven year old girl; I'm sure to her she feels like she's been hurt or sick forever.

After everyone headed for their own homes or to guard duty Scott and I sat the kids down and explained to them about Scott going. The older kids knew but were glad of the chance to ask some specific questions. The littles think Scott is indestructible and basically omnipotent and have complete faith that everything will be fine. I wish I could go back to such blind faith in everything being OK.

I have thought of one thing that will make me feel a smidgen better. I'm going to pull out Scott's chainsaw chaps and sew them to a pair of jeans. If they'll stop a chainsaw, surely they'll stop a zombie. I'm also reinforcing his jacket at the collars and cuffs with chamois. Lumberjack boots and a good solid cap with ear flaps will complete the ensemble. I can hear Scott's exasperated response now. He just better hope I don't find armor and chain mail before they leave.


	77. Day 121

**Day 121 (Wednesday)**

I'm no more comfortable with Scott going away than I was yesterday but I am a bit more resigned to it. Frankly I've been so busy today that there just hasn't been time to brood about it. Of course, here at the end of the day with nothing but this journal and the sounds of the occasional zombie banging into something on the other side of the wall to keep me company it's another story.

I was awake and in the garden before breakfast had even been started. I left Scott to feed Kitty, which he is a dab hand at, and bent my back to getting everything in that we would need for tomorrow.

I needed to dig the last of the potatoes and have the kids help wash and scrub them. I pulled two pumpkins for baking. One would become pumpkin chips and the other I would turn into pies. I pulled a few hard shelled winter squash for the same reason. After I cleaned the pumpkin and squash seeds out I toasted them so the men could have them as a light weight snack on their trip.

With the tail end of the pole beans and Yardlong beans I made a huge mess of green beans that I seasoned with onions and bacon drippings. I pulled beets and cooked them to make pickled beets and for a small pot of apple-beet sauce.

Tomorrow, along with the last of the red tomatoes, I'll bring in the Bibb lettuce, last of the carrots, and a small tray of radishes that I've been nursing along out of season. With those I'll make an enormous fresh salad. I'm not touching any of the plants though that I'm letting go to seed. I'm not sure how long my packages of seeds are going to remain viable so I need to learn how to make my own. Its not like the seed catalogs are going to come in the mail this year.

We've been baking loaf bread, rolls, and cornbread most of the day. Tomorrow all we'll need to do is make the cakes and pies, heat stuff up, and get the meat ready.

Angus and Jim provided our main dish. They came back almost as quickly as they had left this morning. So quick, Dix and Matlock rang the alarm bell. We all stopped what we were doing and ran to help. Angus' pant leg was ripped and bloody and Jim looked like he'd been on the losing end of a good sized bar brawl. But the way they looked was all out of whack with the fact the two of them were laughing like loons.

From the trailer that Angus pulled was coming this god-awful banging. We thought he had a zombie stuck in there until Matlock bellowed, "You're kidding me."

Of course he didn't say "kidding" but referred to manure. I wish the guys would be more careful. I had the worst time explaining to Johnnie why we should not use those words; especially why five-year-olds should not use those words. I don't think I convinced him, only convinced him he better never use those words where I found out about it.

Anyway, the banging wasn't getting any better and the sides of the trailer shook with every crash. I heard Scott yell above the noise, "Geez man, you found some mean ones."

Turns out that Angus and Jim decided to go over to the Geraci Brothers' place to see if there was anything worth salvaging. They hadn't been there but a second when they heard a banging in what was left of the main house. They looked in the windows expecting to see raiders or zombies. Instead they caught sight of really pissed off pigs. Hey, if you've ever been around pigs and hogs you know that can be scary all on its own.

They backed the trailer up to the front door, climbed in a back window, and proceeded to try and chase the pigs into the waiting trailer. Easier said than done. From the sound of it I wish I would have had a movie camera. The mean old boar brought what was left of the ceiling in one of the rooms down onto Jim. Angus nearly had his leg gored before he jumped up on the island in the kitchen.

I'm amazed no one got hurt. That old boar was mean and wild. There was a younger and more laid back boar and a fat sow with five piglets as well. Rather than put the boar in with the other animals they backed the trailer up to the gate of the large enclosure where we planned to put the cows, and put him to pasture out there so he could run himself down without hurting anything. The young board, sow, and piglets were put into a pen next to the other pigs. We'll put them in the same pen once they all settle down and get to know each other a little better.

Tomorrow at dawn that old boar is going to meet his maker and we'll cook him whole (after he is gutted, drained, and cleaned) in a pit the guys dug today. I've never cooked a whole pig like that but Cease and Jim have. I have eaten it like that and my mouth is watering just thinking about it. I can still remember how tender it was. One of Scott's tenants invited us to his son's confirmation party. It was a big honor apparently for "Don Scott" and his family to come to Miguelito's son's fiesta. Miguelito was killed in a construction accident less than a month later. Scott gave his widow some money and she took their children and went to live with her parents in Mexico; but before she left she told Scott that her husband had been so proud that El Don had come to his child's feast. Strange how the little things can mean so much. It really puts things in context.

While the men take care of the pork I'll be teaching Rose, Melody, Josephine, Sarah, Laura, and Bekah how to make some old fashioned cakes and pies. Maddie may join us as well if her mother can convince her to. Let's see, I have the following on the dessert menu: molasses pie, vinegar pie, buttermilk pie, sauerkraut cake, molasses cake, applesauce cake, apple butter pie, pumpkin custard, Irish potato pie, elderberry pie, pineapple custard pie, squash pie, and green tomato mincemeat pie. This didn't include the fruit cakes that I made yesterday or the pies I made today from sweet potatoes. We'll also have plenty of side dishes but I'm leaving some of that up to the other women.

The other thing I did today was make some granola bars, pony express bread, GORP, and some other instant trail food for the men to take one their trek north. The men will also take a couple of cases of MREs we've been holding back and each vehicle will also carry ten gallons of water, a water filter, and purification tablets. Each man will carry his own bug out bag in case they have to abandon the vehicles for some reason, a rifle, and plenty of ammo. Each vehicle will also carry reserve fuel and have a shotgun and case of shells. I know there is plenty I'm not listing out but they are traveling heavier than they are comfortable. It's just they don't know what they'll be facing.

I'm going to bed tonight tired in body and spirit. I just wish I could get my mind to stop running like a hamster wheel.


	78. Day 123

**Day 123 (Friday)**

I just didn't have the time or energy to write yesterday. This morning Scott and the other men left and will be back basically when we see them pulling up to the gates. They originally said up to five days at most but from the sound of their travels thus far that might be overly optimistic.

Yesterday was a good day. Everyone was up early and about mid-morning we held Matlock and Becky's commitment ceremony. Becky was very beautiful in a found wedding gown that we had altered but it was really strange seeing Matlock dressed up in a suit and tie. I don't think I'd seen a tie on anyone but a zombie for months.

Scott officiated the ceremony, saying phrases similar to what a pastor would have said at a wedding ceremony prior to NRS. Then Matlock and Becky read vows to each other they had written themselves. The ceremony was closed by Dixon who said, "Let all here witness that, knowing to the best of their ability that all bonds with their previous partners were completely and irrevocably severed, Sgt. Murphy Matlock and Ms. Rebecca Trublood have made a public and lifetime commitment to each other. A copy of their vows, certified by their own signatures and that of witnesses, will be placed with the other official documents of Sanctuary. Would all here affirm their decision by saying Aye!"

You wouldn't think so few people could make so much noise. We weren't just affirming Matlock's and Becky's commitment to each other, we were all affirming a commitment to our future – as individuals and as a group. For richer for poorer; in sickness and in health; 'til death do us part.

During the ceremony I watched all the couples in Sanctuary look at each other; from Jerry and Muriel to David and Rose. All but one couple glowed with their feelings. Dixon was standing by Samuel but wasn't looking at Rachel and Rachel was studiously ignoring Dixon as well. It was especially strange because standing on the other side of Samuel was Patricia with Jack protectively at her side. Despite there being no reason for Dix and Rachel to hide their relationship any more they seem to be hiding it more than ever. But it's not my problem and I refused to let the conundrum ruin my day.

After the ceremony the ladies and I put out some odds and ends that people could graze on while the pig finished cooking. We took turns on short shifts on guard duty so that everyone could enjoy the day as much as possible.

Finally the pig was ready. I didn't know until yesterday morning that the men had actually decided to slaughter the pig during the night. I guess they did this because they were worried that a predator would get it 'cause the stupid thing kept making so much racket that it even drew zombies. They burned a fire in the pit using some granite rocks we had gathered over the last couple of weeks for about three hours which was just about as long as it took to catch, slaughter, and prepare the mean old boar.

They rubbed the pig with citrus juice and put some onion and seasonings in the body cavity. Three good sized hot rocks were also stuffed inside the pig's body cavity and James said it made a wild hissing sound as hot rock met cold flesh. The pig was then wrapped in several layers of heavy duty aluminum foil. We could have used banana leaves, may have to if we ever get a chance to do this again, but the foil was better at keeping dirt out. The pig was then put in the pit with the rest of the hot rocks and we used wild grape vines and a thick layer of pine needles to insulate everything. The hole was refilled with dirt and a long meat thermometer was stuck into the center of the whole mess to track the internal temperature of the meat. The pig was put into the ground at around 3 AM and it came off just after one o'clock.

We set up several tables to accommodate the meat and all the other food we had prepared. It was quite a buffet. We all ate way passed being full. That was an experience after so many weeks spent conserving food and eating jsut enough rather than until we were full. Even all the animals received extra rations yesterday and were glad for it.

The celebration lasted the whole day. Games of sport including an impromptu football game were played beside games of skill like archery, slingshot, and how fast could someone breakdown their rifle and put it back together. The kids played games like sack races, pin the tail on the donkey, and lawn bowling which they renamed "knock the zombies down."

Everyone contributed something hand made to Matlock and Becky's new home. The men pulled together and made them a wood stove and a pie keep to go in their kitchen space. Sarah, Bekah, and Laura had sewn them a sampler with their names and the date of the ceremony embroidered on it. Rose and Melody made them an herbal wreath. The older boys, with David's help, had found an old chest and lined it with cedar for them to keep their treasures in. The younger children made them cards. The women and I made over some curtains and a table cloth, turning what used to belong to someone else into a useful gift that would forever be uniquely theirs. Brandon and Melody's gift stunned everyone.

Brandon had claimed to be taking pictures for the History of Sanctuary that he is writing but after disappearing for a bit he and Melody presented Matlock and Becky with a wedding day portrait in a hand-painted frame. What was adorable was that the picture he took was one where Tom and Jenny were standing with them. They looked like a family.

We were all surprised. We knew he had been scavenging computers and printers but we had no idea he had really been able to pull anything together. Given the quality of the work everyone has vowed to keep on the lookout for all the toner and photography paper they can find and paints and art supplies as well. When we notice particular skills in someone we try to encourage and nurture it. We all benefit from it in the long run.

Scott spent as much time with the kids and I as he could but late in the afternoon I noticed he would slip away and meet with the three other men to go over Juicer and the Avalanche yet again. They were leaving the F350 here, but were taking one of the smaller enclosed trailers that they reinforced the day before. They had also cut small, cross-shaped openings on all four sides to act as gun ports.

I knew it was time for things to wind down. Everyone had thankfully done their own dishes and stacked them in the drainers to dry. There really wasn't that much food left over compared to what we started with but there was enough to pack two meals for the men with enough left over that I made a big pot of stew that fed everyone twice today.

After all the food was put away we carried Matlock and Becky to their new home for their honeymoon night. It was hilarious and raucous at the same time. The youngest kids didn't get it but there was plenty of ribald chuckling going on between most of the adults. The teens just stood around embarrassed at the antics and thinking adults were a few bricks shy of a load. Several of us offered to take Tom and Jenny for the night but Matlock and Becky both said they wanted to start as they meant to go on; as a family. I don't think there is any need to worry about the two of them. They seem to have a solid idea of where they want their future to go.

After that everyone but the guards headed to their own home. Scott took some time with each child individually; youngest to oldest. He took David and Rose aside last and I can only guess what he said to them. I didn't ask. I'm not sure I want to know. Rose cried whatever it was … in a good way, but there were still tears.

After everyone went to bed Scott and I lay for a long time saying nothing, just holding each other. Sometimes you need to talk, sometimes you just need the quiet of each other's company and comfort.

Morning came too quickly as did their leave taking. They called in every hour at first and the news was not good. The interstate borders on impassable for miles and miles and miles; as far as the eye can see there are vehicles of all shapes and sizes. There are a few locations where it looks like someone has tried to push the worst of the mess off to the side but mainly Juicer just took the lead and smashed anything that they couldn't go around. Some of the cars still have zombies pinned inside and in other cars it looks like something has burst out of them. Every business and building close to the entrance and exit ramps has been looted as far as they can tell. There have also been lots of fires and other types of damage.

It took them three hours just to get to the Webster exit in Sumter county. That was a drive that normally would have taken only 45 minutes. Once there they were met by armed men protecting the exit ramp into that small city. It was only due to Angus' charm, and the fact that they were conserving ammo, that they didn't start firing at the men as soon as they had slowed down. When they were finally allowed to pass unmolested, they were told to be careful as there were raiders through the area just two weeks previously. They got some other information from that group but not much. They had suffered quite a bit of depredation by raiders and road pirates so didn't trust anyone else.

It took them another hour and a half to reach Wildwood. What should have taken them one hour had taken them four and a half hours. They were extremely stressed and tense and needed to pull over for a short break and to grab a bite to eat.

In Wildwood itself they found the end result of anarchy and chaos. From the few straggling survivors that eventually crawled out of the rubble they got the story.

The men used pre-designated codes so that their actual position was not compromised but we understood their explanation just fine. Anyone monitoring the channel we were using though would have not only had to know the geography well, they would have had to know some of the individual quirks of Sanctuary. Juicer kept its name but the Avalanche became the Penny (as in a copper colored one). Their code names were also changed from what they normally used around town. Dixon remained the generic Sergeant. Angus became Viking. McElroy was called Rat for some reason. And Scott became Rooster. The cities and landmarks that were passed had numerical designations and I had a hard time keeping up with them when they spoke too quickly.

In addition to code words, we've developed a flyer. Every so often the men stop and hang one up that has a message and a radio frequency listed on it. We'll monitor that frequency for messages from people who want to make contact.

Bekah, still fascinated by the radio shack, actually can translate the radio jargon faster than some of the adults. Luckily she is still young enough that she misses most of the nuances of what is being transmitted to us. Some of it is really grim.

A band of survivors of the mayhem on the Interstate system had come together around the big truck stops at the Wildwood exit. They figured to hold onto the food and fuel as long as they could, and to the security it represented, until they were rescued. They had started out well enough all things considered despite refusing to believe that they could possibly be left on their own forever by the powers that be. Someone some where had to be responsible for helping them right?!

The first problems began when their group's population began to exceed their resources. Wildwood is one of the major stops for food and fuel along the I75 corridor and every survivor for miles in either direction headed there thinking the authorities would be there and tell them what they needed to do or provide them with transportation to where they wanted to go. They eventually thought enough to forage through all of the vehicles along the roadways but it still was not enough. As the zombies continued to be a problem and decimate the survivor's numbers, the group began to run out of ammo. But as a whole the group lacked the creativity, and were too handicapped by their fear, to mount less traditional defenses.

Then the raiders started appearing. Just a few at first so they could hold them off, but then a large and ruthless gang came that easily over-powered the entire Wildwood enclave. The raiders took care of the problem of overcrowding by executing the elderly, sick, injured, or anyone that complained. Their brutality also included using the youngest children and the least productive adults to bait zombie traps.

The truck stop survivors thought of their lives as a living hell and lost all hope, merely existing from one moment to the next. In truth it actually became a living hell about a week and a half ago when a large zombie horde ripped through the raiders' over confident, and in reality haphazard, fortifications.

By the time the zombies moved on barely a half dozen people remained of the nearly four hundred they had started with back at the very beginning. The last of their captors had been torn apart as he tried to escape just hours before the zombies, heeding some unheard call, headed west toward the coast. The few people remaining were dazed and listless. They didn't seem to have enough motivation to even dig into the remaining food supplies or rebuild the meanest of shelters. They certainly didn't bother stopping our men when they broke into the fuel supplies and topped off the tanks of Juicer and the Avalanche. Neither did they say anything when the men grabbed several empty fuel canisters laying in the debris, filled them up, and split them between the two vehicles. They didn't try to protect the one commodity that they could have used to build themselves back up into a viable community.

The people just sat there confused and zoned out while all of this was going on, at least that's how Scott described them. When Matlock asked Dixon if he intended to offer aid to those survivors. Dixon answered, "No help for those who aren't ready to help themselves. We don't have the time or the resources and it wouldn't do any good anyway; they aren't ready to listen. Like Mother Hen says even a turtle knows he must stick out his neck if he is to get anywhere. These turtles are stuck in their shells."

They left Wildwood with a bad taste in their mouths. After another four hours on the road with one major backtrack and detour where an overpass had collapsed they finally made it to Gainesville. They drove around town for a bit but never saw a single living soul. They thought they had seen movement in one of the buildings on the University of Florida campus but it was hard to tell whether it was people or zombies.

The men reported that Gainesville really did feel like a ghost town; or maybe closer to a freaky carnival funhouse. At least two major fires appear to have destroyed large sections of town. Hardly any intact windows remain though it does appear that for a while some people tried to board up the damage. They have holed up for the night in a D.O.T. maintenance garage that wasn't too far off one of the interstate overpasses. It was the most secure location they could find after returning from the Devil's Millhopper Geological State Park. The park is basically just a huge sink hole with some seepage type watefalls along its sides but the park is inundated with zombies with many having fallen into the sinkhole itself. They got close enough to see the bodies squirming around at the bottom. Scott said between the slithering sound of all the mangled corpses stuck down there and the smell he came really close to puking. The rats in the park were also really bad and no longer afraid of humans which was even worse.

They reported that the zombie infestation in the whole area is pretty intense though not unmanageable so long as you are careful. On the other hand, it's bad enough that if it hadn't been so late and the road so bad they would have left and headed on to the Newberry exit to get out of town. Scott said Payne's Prairie right there at Micanopy was just freaking weird.

The "prairie" is a huge grassland like a Savannah and is totally unique to the Florida landscape. It just kind of squats where it is with no encroachment by other types of habitats. It had - or maybe has but the men didn't see any from the interstate – bison, wild horses, and a large population of alligators living in it. What they did hear was the roar of a couple of what they think were lions. And the tall grass swayed and bent in unnatural rhythms. Scott said it took just about everything he had not to jump back in the cab of the truck and push through the stalled traffic at dangerous speeds. Dixon agreed and added that it was almost too tempting just to set it all on fire to destroy whatever the freaks were wandering aimlessly in the bush and overgrowth. If Dixon was admitting to being spooked I know it had to be bad.

Tomorrow the calling schedule will change. They plan on making contact every two hours assuming they can get through. We are dealing with more interference or static or whatever you call it on the radio but we don't know if it is on our end or theirs. For all we know it could be sun flairs or spots or some such. If they miss a call-in appointment they'll wait and try again at the next appointed time. If they miss a second appointment time they will call in as soon as they are able to get through.

Today was Cleaning Day around Sanctuary and the kids and I spent most of the day working on our home. We rearranged several rooms to take into account that Matlock, Becky, and the kids moved out. Two adults and two kids and all of their stuff leaving gave us back quite a bit of space; it's not that it hasn't brought relief but it is taking some getting used to, especially at night. All the work has been a two-fold mission. First it was to help us get through this first day of Scott being gone. Second, I told the kids if we can get everything finished between today and tomorrow we would decorate for Christmas on the next Rest Day.

I know that today is December first but it's just hard for me to get in the mood for anything with Scott gone. No, not gone just away. Gone makes it feel like he isn't coming back and thinking in that direction will drive me mad. I've been jumpy and jittery all day. Jim and Waleski (believe it or not) have stopped by several times today to see if I need anything. I think they both understand what I'm going through perhaps better than everyone else. Jack knows for sure Teri is dead and Matlock knows the same for his ex-wife. But with Jim and Waleski … its one of those gone but not gone kind of things. And seeing what they are dealing with helps me in a bizarre way because I see at least there is a likelihood that Scott is coming back; they don't have that. I'd talk to Rachel but I think she is hacked off at me because Patricia and I are now friends of a sort. Maybe I hurt her feelings but I didn't like the position she put me in over her relationship with Dix. Patricia seems to be holding less of a grudge against Rachel than Rachel is against me which makes no sense in my book.

And I'm not the only one feeling the men's absence. All of our able-bodied people have to take up the slack created by their absence. Today the last of the comatose or vegetative patients, whatever their condition was, from the Hale Hollow refugees were finally put to rest so at least the hospital doesn't have to have an on-site person 24/7. But still guard duty has become a chore in creative flexibility. David and James will likely be on night duty until the other men come back and Bo and Tom will have to be on the Wall during most of the day. All of the women have had at least an hour added to our normal shifts on the Wall as well. This has a trickle down effect to the other chores like cooking. To make matters worse all of this is happening right when we apparently have a new security issue to deal with.

Samuel and Marty were walking perimeter outside the Wall when they found several places where it looked like something or someone had been digging under it. No one has seen or heard anything unusual and we don't know what was the objective of the holes either. The holes are located right at a juncture where Scott has been unhappy about the lack of visibility because of an odd crook we had to put in to accommodate a couple of canals. Scott had plans to build an extra tower there for that very reason but hadn't had the time yet.

Human or animal we can't let it continue. The hole has been backfilled with a mixture of dirt, broken chunks of concrete and pieces of scrap metal with a layer of chain link fence laying on top of the ground. An animal won't get through that but might try digging in a similar location. A human might try moving the fence before going around it. It was just odd how that particular location seems to have been singled out. We didn't find any other holes along the Wall at all. Let's just hope the flaming zombies haven't started to tunnel or we are in more trouble that I want to imagine.

And on that cheerful note I'll toddle off to bed. I nearly asked the kids if they wanted to sleep in the bedroom with me but I figure that will only cause more harm than good in the long run; best to maintain normalcy as much as possible when we can. I'm a big girl. I just wish I didn't feel like crying myself to sleep.


	79. Day 124

**Day 124 (Saturday)**

Don't feel like writing much today. We've lost radio communication with the guys. Matlock doesn't believe it is on our end because we've checked it using the remaining radios we have around Sanctuary, even going so far as to take the F350 and drive up to the county line to check for distance. All we know for certain is that they made it off of the Interstate, through Newberry, and as far as the outskirts of Trenton and made much better time than they had the previous day.

If they made it to Trenton they were only about 30 minutes from my parents' place. I'm scared. Did Scott go out of his way only to meet with catastrophe when he tried to check on my family? Did something else happen? My stomach was so full of acid that I couldn't even eat dinner. I think I avoided anyone noticing though as I stayed by the cooking pots then sat down and fed Kitty and then helped to clean up. No one said anything thank goodness. That would have made things worse. As it was all anyone seemed to be able to talk about was a conjecture on what had happened.

I spent most of the day baking and working in the garden. I pulled the last few vines that were give out and tossed them on the compost piles and then raked away the leaves where I want to plant another garden patch. I also helped Becky clear out some dead and dying bushes from around her house so that she can plant some flower seeds and herbs plants.

The kids finished up a few of the household chores that hadn't been finished last night and then started pulling Christmas decorations out of the attic. I told them they couldn't start decorating until tomorrow and I had to deal with some pouting all evening. I almost lost my cool until David and James came in and told them to knock it off and give me a break or they'd have to wait another week to decorate. I know they meant well, but honestly that made me feel worse. If something has happened to Scott how am I supposed to make the kids mind me? Scratch that thought. Totally unthink that thought. Nothing has happened to Scott. He'll be home soon and life will go on the way it always has. That's just got to be the way it turns out.

Ugh. I know I sound like a wuss in this journal but truthfully this is the only place I can let those feelings all hang out. I have to keep a stiff upper lip out and public and here in the house I can't break down where the kids will see me. Not even my bedroom is a safe zone right now because the kids keep barging in and out asking questions. Its only now, after everyone has gone to bed or gone on guard duty that I can let my own guard down.

We found a couple of more places around the Wall where some digging has taken place. One was over near the little bit of chain link fence that we have left. Luckily we had buried cast iron fence rails in the ground. There isn't any digging through that and since they go roughly five feet into the ground and are seated in concreted your average person isn't going to be able to tunnel under them either and an animal wouldn't bother. And with the bars and barbed wire we have woven in the fence itself, simply cutting the fence with bolt cutters isn't possible either.

We noticed that there were a few places that looked like whoever had tried to dig a hole and then filled it back in for some reason. We almost missed the hole that told us we had humans on our hands. Humans, not zombies and not animals. Whoever dug that hole covered up the opening with a piece of plywood and then covered the plywood with sand and oak leaves. It was so cleverly camouflaged that if David hadn't stepped right on top of it we would never have known.

I never realized it but Matlock can be vicious. We caught a couple of rattlesnakes out in the retention area up near the road when the rain drove them out a couple of weeks ago. They are pretty big suckers too so Matlock wanted to keep them and eventually kill them and have rattlesnake something or other and he wanted to stretch the skin for a belt. He'd been feeding then mice waiting for them to get a little bigger in hopes of getting a belt for both him and Tom but he's found a better use for them. He irritated the snakes and then dumped them down into the hole and recovered it with the plywood, sand, and leaves.

Next the guys took some old wooden pallets we hadn't broken down yet and stacked about five of them at the top of the Wall right over that hole. Cease and David were going to put the dogs on leashes and spend most of the night walking Butch and Sundance back and forth in that area. When and if the dogs sense that someone was on the other side of the Wall again James, who was going to be up in the nearest guard tower, was going to run and tip the pallets over onto whoever was below.

That means we had two chances to catch the perpetrator(s). Either they could get snake bit or they could get hit by the pallets. If that doesn't work tonight then we'll have to think of something else.

Maybe I'll just sit here tonight and wait to see if we are needed on the Wall. Maybe sitting on the porch and focusing on something else I'll be able to let go of the gnawing worry that is eating at my gut.


	80. Day 125

**Day 125 (Rest Day … supposedly)**

I'm so wound up I don't know where to start. What's that old saying? Something like I'm so fired up I could chew horseshoes and spit nails.

First off there's been no news from the men. I'm trying really hard to have faith; have faith in my Faith and have faith in Scott. I'm the one that is weak. Didn't Scott have to have a certain amount of faith in me so that he could leave? I keep telling myself that when I start getting wound up. Over and over I keep telling myself that.

I didn't come unglued when Scott and James were out of contact for two weeks at a time, first at the Northern Tier where they canoed nearly 100 miles up in the border country between Minnesota and the Canadian border and then later when they went to Philmont Boy Scout Reservation in New Mexico and hiked nearly 75 miles. I admit to worrying a little bit when the two of them when to Costa Rica to go fishing and hiking but it was more about the planes they would be on than anything else.

But there is one major difference between then and now. Zombies. God-cursed, rank, decomposing, NRS-infected, walking corpses. Argh!

I know I'm being somewhat unreasonable. The world has changed and I need to change with it. Intellectually I know that. However emotionally I haven't even started to throw the tantrum I'm capable of. And all the while I'm having to smile, be polite, nod my head and listen to people's praises about how strong I must be, what a good example I'm setting … blah, blah, freaking blah.

I know I shouldn't be so nasty. They mean well and I'm well aware of that fact. I would never tell them that their platitudes are getting on my last nerve, that the pats on my back weigh me down rather than bolster me up ... and make me feel guilty for my true feelings. I actually read somewhere that many people that give comfort are actually most often in need of it themselves. It's one of those philosophical contradictions you learn as you grow older and wiser. Right now I feel about a hundred years old so I should be plenty wise. Not!

The other thing I'm completely PO'd about is that you can't really help anyone these days. OK, so maybe there's some but the number is limited to a small and select group. We took those people in and this is how they repay us. Again, I have to admit not all of them, but apparently quite a few of them.

Last night about one o'clock AM the dogs set up a fearful racket right over where we found and booby trapped that hole. James tripped the rope that allowed the pallets to fall. The snakes got one man, the pallets took out two and the resulting racket drew a crowd of zombies who took out several more.

At first light Matlock, Cease, and David, with help from guards on that side of the Wall, rescued two fools who had gotten treed by around three dozen of the NRS infected corpses. It took Matlock a while to calm them down and then interrogate the SOBs to get the whole story out of them.

Supposedly the same day the Hale Hollow refugees returned home the in-fighting and grasping for power started right back up again. Apparently they hadn't learned anything from their previous tribulations. A few days later several families had simply had enough; Colonel Byrd's family and Greg from the former New Geraci group were among them. They loaded a few vehicles and headed north on US41 to start over some place else.

Those who remained developed a deep-seated envy of us here in Sanctuary. They ranted about how unfairly and uncharitably we had treated them. Then the ingrates decided that if we wouldn't give them what they "deserved" they would teach us a lesson and take what they wanted by force. The plan was to tunnel in and bring enough firepower to surprise and overwhelm our guards.

The scary thing is that though they failed miserably they could just as easily have succeeded. Had they thought to try and bury explosives at the edge of the Wall they could have succeeded horrifically. We're going to have to design and implement additional fortifications; possibly a skin of telephone poles on the outside of the Wall. The other thing I heard someone mention was a moat but being from this area all a moat brings to mind are mosquitoes, gators, and moccasins … all of which we would get stuck dealing with 24/7 just on the off-chance they prevent raids. A moat could also soften the ground under the Wall and eventually cause a collapse.

We don't have a jail, haven't needed one. Plus keeping those two would have been more trouble than it was worth, not to mention a drain on our resources. Matlock, however, was no longer in the mood to be lenient. Truth is he was terribly furious in a way I've never seen before, not even in the early days of the zombie hordes. He normally uses humor to relieve everyone's stress, not this time. I swear you could see steam rising off of him he was so hot.

First the two men were forced to do all the body clean up; from digging the grave pit to scraping up all the bodies and spare parts the zombies hadn't eaten to refilling the pit with dirt and replacing the sod over it. Then they had to throw down winter rye seed on top of that which would eventually provide fodder for our animals allowing us to get something good from the bad.

Then the two men were bound and gagged, tied on the end of the tow truck's rear clamp and unceremoniously hauled back to Hale Hollow like worms on the end of a hook. I was shocked to learn from David that Matlock broke each man's arm before dumping them at the gates. He then went even further. Using some of his homemade "grenades" – really, just oversized and juiced up fireworks – he busted several large gaps into the wall surround that community.

At dinner that night Matlock stood up and explained what he had done and why he had done it. The people left up there in Hale Hollow would either have to spend their time more constructively repairing and refortifying their community or they would have to move on if they wanted to survive.

There was stunned silence for a moment until Jack said, "Well, if we're taking a vote, I vote they move on. Those kinds of neighbors we don't need. You think we can give it a week and then go check?"

And just like that the discussion moved on to the fact that Jim thought one of the heifers might be pregnant and the kids asking if anyone wanted to make homemade Christmas ornaments during lessons tomorrow.

Matlock took a second to come to grips with the fact no one blamed him for his actions and I watched him play with his dessert rather than eat it before splitting it between Tom and Jenny. I guess he expected some kind of ruckus and was confused when he didn't get one.

I had guard duty right after I put the kids to bed, leaving them in the care of Rose and Melody. I watched Matlock walk the Wall a few times, backlit by one of those smelly little cigars he smokes once in a while. He finally climbed up to my perch and said, "This is how tyrants are made."

I replied, "No. This is how a good leader takes on the personal responsibility for the security of those he leads. You didn't ask anyone else to do it. You did it. And you were willing to take the consequences for actions you chose and the punishment you met out."

"Maybe. But did I do it to be a leader or did I do it because those turds pissed me off?"

I shrugged, "The question you need to ask yourself then is whether you got mad because it was a personal affront or whether you were angry because those men put all of Sanctuary at risk, including our children."

However he answered himself, he seemed to at least come to some kind of acceptance and it seemed to ease his mind.

The rest of my watch was uneventful and I looked up at the stars praying that Scott and the other men were some place safe watching the same stars.

And now here I sit, finally calming down after having yet again written things out of my system. I may not sleep well but at least now I can sleep. I'll sleep and dream Scott's home and maybe tomorrow that dream will come true.


	81. Day 126

Day 126

No news. Haven't the heart to write more.


	82. Day 127

**Day 127**

Thank God! Oh, thank God! We've heard from them. They are all OK. The signal was very weak but there was no mistaking it was them.

The details are sketchy. They are working on radio repairs. They are in Chiefland just about to come south on US19.

They have picked up a few people and are travelling as a convoy. Scott asked me to please not cry but none of the new people are my family. He would tell me more, privately, when he got home. Of course I cried anyway. Several times. But it's a confirmation of what I've known in my heart all along.

No more tonight. My heart is too full. Both of happiness and of sorrow.


	83. Day 128

**Day 128 (Water Day)**

We know a little more today though we won't get a full report until they've made it home.

In Trenton they ran into a road block run by people professing to be acting under Devine direction. Basically zealots had developed within the ranks of the town's survivors and they eventually gained majority control and took over the running of things. They were operating a toll booth at the intersection of CR26, CR47, and US129 and became angry when rather than paying the toll our men tried to turn around and take the back roads. Some shots were fired but after both groups turned their energies to eradicating a small horde of zombies that had arrived on the scene, a truce was called. After an exchange of information our group got the dubious distinction of being called "Sovereign Agents Protected by Grace." After promising to keep the little SAPG signs on the dashboards of the vehicles our men were allowed to pass.

From there they made it to my parents' place where they stayed the night. They stayed the next day and night there as well though they didn't share why, at least not in my hearing. The next day they picked up the family group. They had to pass back through Trenton only to find that something had happened at the roadblock. The few survivors of the original roadblock gave the now larger convoy no trouble and they passed through without stopping except to pick up a young woman who's about five months pregnant. The old community leaders had turned her out 'cause she was unmarried and the members of her family that had supported her had all been killed by zombies or raiders.

They overnighted at an abandoned dairy farm just outside town where one the new families, farmers in their previous life, suggested they load some of the dairy cattle and hay into a trailer and bring it back to Sanctuary.

The next day they didn't get very far either after meeting up with a small band of survivors in Chiefland. Our group was hosted for the evening in exchange for news and for having Juicer eradicate a persistent horde of zombies that seemed to wander back and forth between Fanning Springs and Chiefland every few days.

This morning they picked up US19 and finally started heading south towards home! The problem is that US19 is a mess, but thankfully even in the worst locations they were able to detour through parking lots and medians to escape complete road blockages without having to do any major backtracking.

They made it across CR24 at Otter Creek and passed Yankeetown and Inglis before having to stop for the night in Crystal River at CR44.

Tomorrow their route takes them closer to the coastline and in that area the roads are more narrow with fewer right of ways they can utilize to bypass backups. They hope to get as far as New Port Richey which would mean that they could be home the day after that! Two days. Surely I can stand it for two more days.

I tried to keep myself busy and pass the time between call-ins and additional information but it wasn't easy. Today was Water Day but with no rain for over a week there wasn't that much to do. Our potable water storage is still in fine fiddle from all that rain we had a couple of weeks ago. No problems with our non-potable water either, especially now that we've completely changed over to the port-o-potty system.

Instead of wasting my time on the water teams I spent extra time in the garden. I planted beets, broccoli, brussel sprouts, cabbage (regular and Chinese), carrots, cauliflower, celery, collard greens, kale, lettuce, mustard greens, onions, parsley, English peas, radishes, spinach, and Swiss chard. Basically the main crops are cool season greens. I planted just about all the seeds I have for those things. I'm afraid to let the seeds get too old or they might not germinate. Also, where possible, I'm planting heirloom varieties. Becky is pretty good with helping in the garden. I was wondering if as the wife of one of our community leaders she would look to having other responsibilities but so far she's being really cool and not acting any different than she did before. That's a relief to be honest.

December I won't harvest too many fresh veggies which means we are going to have to dig further into our stockpile of canned goods and dried foods. What I won't harvest in vegetables I should be able to more than make up for it in fruits. I pulled the first bushel of navel oranges and boy were they delicious. I'm saving citrus seeds as well as everything else I can lay hands on. I hope the seeds germinate and then grow true but I'm not real sure. It'd be nice to enlarge the grove or at the very least replace any trees that die over time. There are lots of individual citrus trees around the community but most of the groves were bulldozed during the building craze of the '06 and '07.

I've already candied a big batch of orange peel and lemon peel. I'll give the kids a piece after it's had to time age and set up a bit.

I've also continued to pull fruit from the native grove: velvet apples, black sapote, avocados, canistels, and ambarellas. I got another small bag of macadamias and the first of the Tropical Apricots are ripe as well. The tropical apricots I made into a batch of jam.

And being the busy little bee that I've tried to be today I also did something that drew a crowd off and on. Jim and Jerry especially kept dropping by because they, along with Angus, want to build a still so they can make corn liquor or maybe a version of moonshine rum from sugar cane. I know we've all talked about going up to that small vineyard and winery off of SR52, I think it was called Florida Estates, and then there was a winery off of Little Road called Empire. Florida Estates would be closer because it is in Land O' Lakes. Empire is all the way out in New Port Richey. The guys want to pick up barrels and casks, bottling equipment, and vines to plant their own vineyard. I wish them better luck than what I've had over the years. Angus specifically mentioned the microbreweries over in Ybor City too for some of the same reasons. And now that I think about it, I wouldn't mind having a few of those bottles and corks myself and you'll see why in a second.

What I did isn't quite so involved as a still. I start with an end-product. Today I made liqueurs. Another day when I have time I'll make cordials and shrubs. The cordials are alcoholic like the liqueurs but the shrubs are not. The good thing about the liqueurs and cordials is that I start with cheap vodka, cognac, rum, or gin. It doesn't really matter if it's the really, really cheap stuff either because the sugar and other ingredients mellow and smooth it out.

For instance the first one I made was an orange-flavored liqueur. First I took the juice and peel from four oranges. I cut the peel into strips and added just enough water to the juice to make a whole two cups of liquid. I put the juice, peel, and two cups of sugar into a saucepan and brought it to a boil and then turned the heat down and simmered it for five minutes. After that I took it off the burner and let it cool. While that mixture was cooling I cleaned and scalded a half-gallon jar with a screw top lid. When everything was cool, I poured the juice into the jar and then added two cups of vodka (could have used rum for this one as well for a tropical flavor). Then I screwed on the lid, sloshed it around to mix it well, then set the jar aside to be left alone for three or four weeks at room temperature. When that time is up I'll strain it and bottle it.

Before … before NRS I mean … I made this stuff as gifts; either in bottle form or I'd make liqueur flavored cakes or chocolates. I'm not sure what I'm doing this time. It just felt right to be doing it for some weird reason. No one seemed to object to me using our liquor supplies. I'm actually growing the supplies if you think about it. I turned two cups of rot-gut vodka into five cups of smooth liqueur. Now if I was using the expensive stuff someone might have squeaked but I don't know. I'm about as close to a teetotler as we have here in Sanctuary but even I'm not averse to having a sip every now again under certain circumstances. On the other hand none of us appear to be overly enamored of liquor and we really don't have the luxury of taking the chance on being rolled up in case there is an emergency. We all celebrated Matlock and Becky's wedding with a toast but we wound up pouring the last of the second bottle into a sauce for some poached pears and cooking it down.

I made several other batches of liqueurs. Let's see … orange and coffee bean liqueur, plain coffee liqueur, chocolate and chocolate mint liqueurs, ginger liqueur, cinnamon liqueur, and then some like peppermint, spicy herbal, allspice, and vanilla-pecan. Last thing I made required both vodka and brandy. I made a couple bottles of homemade amaretto. I mostly did it so I could have it for baking but Muriel said that she and Jerry normally have a cup of amaretto-laced coffee on Christmas Eve for dessert and was grateful that I cared enough to do this for them. Traditions can be good. We'll try and keep some of the old ones and make a few new ones too.

I guess you can tell I'm more hopeful, believing that there is a future. Just hearing Scott's voice yesterday lifted my spirits beyond measure. I know when he gets home I'm not going to like the entire story but I'll have him home. I dreamed last night that my parents drove in the gates with him and I really cried hard when I woke up and realized that a dream was all it was. All of that emotion I've been putting off is going to have to be dealt with but not until I'm ready to. At least I hope I get to pick the date and time I take it out and shake it up to see what falls out. I've had enough surprises for a while.

I'm so anxious for Scott to get home I'm having a hard time falling asleep but the bed is where I need to go. Oh wait, looks like I get a reprieve. Kitty is awake and letting me know she is wet and hungry. Who would have thought I would have ever been grateful for that kind of distraction in the wee hours of the night.


	84. Day 129

**Day 129 (Thursday)**

They aren't going to make it home tomorrow after all. I'm upset but at least they are closer. OK. So I came home, closed the bedroom door and cried so no one would see just how upset I was, but at least they are closer.

Because they are traveling convoy style it is taking them longer to get on the road in the morning and longer to travel any distance. It's one family in particular that is problematic, not out of intent to be a problem but because they have a special needs adult child that is having a lot of trouble adjusting to the world we now live in. This morning they also had to deal with zombies, cows, and bears … oh my!

They woke up to the sound of the cows being hysterical. There was a large bear trying to get into the cattle trailer. It looked like a Kodiak according to McElroy and Scott said it probably came from the Silver Springs bear exhibit. Luckily the stupid thing was just curious and not hungry. The zombies that came due to all the racket the cows and people made were another matter. They were very hungry and freaked the cows out even more. After dealing with the zombies it was decided they needed tarps to keep the cows from seeing out of the trailer which of course took time to find and attach.

After they finally got on the road from Crystal River they started having more and more traffic problems to deal with. Homosassa wasn't too bad but trying to get through the US19/US98 intersection was a nightmare. They stopped for a late lunch/early dinner and raided some of the businesses on either side of the road, not that there was much untouched after so long. The area looked like it had seen a great deal of looting, but looting with a purpose. You could see where some businesses had been selectively picked over vs. those that had been ransacked indiscriminately. They still haven't seen any more survivors but that doesn't mean they aren't out there. They are also continuing to post the flyers with the radio frequency on it though we haven't heard any calls.

From that point they did OK but because of road conditions and the need to make camp before dark they didn't get any further than Weeki Watchee that is at the intersection of US19 and SR50. I can't say I'm not disappointed because I am … badly. But they are still progressing and that's more than I knew not that many days ago.

Today hasn't been as hectic as yesterday though I've worked my buns off. Today is the day of the week we normally focus on food. It was a little on the cool side this morning but I still worked in the garden, picked enough oranges to provide everyone with all the orange juice they could drink and managed to have enough leftover to can 14 quarts of juice for later use. I also canned some orange segments in light syrup. The acid was really starting to eat my fingers up from trying to juice everything by hand when Jim noticed. He got David to help him move one of those bicycle generators over to the kitchen area. If everyone just takes a little ride we are able to keep enough batteries charged that I can use an electric juicer instead of an old manual one. It's better at getting the juice out AND it saves on the wear and tear of my cuticles.

We pulled the first couple of heads of cabbage today and made slaw to go with dinner tonight. I made salmon croquettes and hush puppies and the slaw went with it perfectly. I'll cut some collards tomorrow and we'll have a mess of greens with cornbread for lunch. For tomorrow I think I'll be able to fix huckleberries with dumplings for dessert, we'll have to see. If not tomorrow night the night after that.

I added another layer of pine straw on a couple of pathways in the garden because the ground looks like it is trying to compact too much. There isn't a whole lot you can do to make sand better on its own, that's why I'm desperate for my compost piles to work. I think James knew more about my state of mind than he has been letting on. He's the most like Scott of all the kids and yet there is a whole dipper full of me in there too. He surprised me this morning with a new composting gadget modeled after one I had been drooling over for a couple of years. It's a barrel composter. You put the stuff you want to compost in the barrel and then you rotate the barrel five turns a day and at the end of two weeks you are supposed to have compost ready to use. I had a friend who had one and she said that you could over stuff the barrel and you had to make sure you had a good mix of stuff in there but it did work. Sometimes it took closer to three weeks than two but what the heck, that's still better than taking months. I've already started a load of compost and I can't wait to see if it will work. If it does I'll see if he can help me make several of these things so that I can get them all going on a cycle and maybe have fresh compost on a weekly basis for side dressing the gardens. I have really got to add organic material to these sandy garden beds if I want them to produce more than a season or two.

Strange to think that compost made me happy. It's one of those bizarre kinds of things that has changed. It used to be candy and flowers a girl wanted (diamonds for those that were a little more sophisticated) but not these days. I saw Tina go all misty-eyed over wool socks and I thought Becky was going to squeeze the breath out of Matlock when he brought her a can of WD40.

It was really more that James took the time to do something that he knew specifically would make me feel better that means so much to me. I tried not to be too mushy about it but I couldn't help but tear up a bit. Nearly grown man that he is he teared up as well and said he was sorry about Memaw and Pawpaw (his grandparents). I can't think or say more until I hear what Scott has to say but if the worst is truly realized I think it might be a good thing to have a little memorial service just amongst our family; something that will close that chapter of our grief and give us a chance to continue on less painfully. Sometimes I miss my mom and dad so much that I can't breathe and then sometimes it's like they're just on a trip and I'll see them again real soon.

I know I'm not the only one that has to feel some grief at the losses we've all experienced. I can't be the only one; but the few times I've tried to bring the subject up I've been met with blank stares or an abrupt change of subject. Maybe the losses are just too big to take in yet. Maybe most of us are still just in survival mode and there isn't room for anything else.

It's not that I want to intrude on other people's grief or slam through the grieving process myself, but it's important. And I want the kids to know it's OK to feel loss but I also want them to know how to deal with those feelings constructively. I don't want to see the next generation grow up with the inability to build deep relationships because they are too afraid to feel deep loss.

Speaking of loss, Patricia is on complete bed rest until further notice; a week at a bare minimum. She was sitting, talking just fine one moment and the next she was out cold on the ground. We put her on a stretcher and rushed her over to Waleski and Rachel. She was gray-faced and her blood pressure was way down. Apparently she was spotting a little bit too but that has stopped. She's nearly 15 weeks pregnant so if she miscarries it will be a big deal physically for her. That doesn't even begin to cover the emotional ramifications.

Rachel said she may be anemic so they've upped her iron intake and I'm going to look in some of my herbals and see if I can't find a tea or broth to help. For now she will remain at the hospital and Melody and Rose are splitting shifts over there since Rachel and Waleski are needed as guards. Samuel is sleeping at our place for a while. Jack's very concerned and spent quite a bit of time with Samuel tonight actually asking him if he minded him visiting his mother. I think Jack is trying to handle things the right way which is encouraging.

I talked with Patricia myself and she said despite what happened today she is feeling better and more hopeful about the future and the baby. That's a good sign I think. And she looks … happy. Yeah, I think that's what it is. She and Jack both look happy and like they've had some burdens lifted from them. I know they are both fresh out of other relationships and that this is awful quick to be plowing into something serious, but I hope it works out. It seems to be good for both of them.

I miss Scott. He thought I could be a busy body and a little nosy … both true though I try to keep it reigned in … but he would humor me and talk to me and understand that I didn't mean any harm by it. I don't have anyone else I can talk to like that; no one to share with. Talking to any of the women is out because it could be misconstrued as gossiping or favoritism and create hard feelings. Talking to any of the other men wouldn't be appropriate in my opinion … even if any of them were inclined to listen to my jibber jabber. Oh I just miss my man and I want him back home so badly; back home where he belongs. Let the others go gallivanting where they will, when they will. I hope Scott keeps his travelling to a minimum. Fair or not, that's how I feel.

Oh geez. I'm falling asleep as I try and write. I'll finish this tomorrow or I'm likely to wake up in the morning face down in a pool of my own drool.


	85. Day 130

**Day 130 (Friday)**

Argh! Dammit, dammit, dammit! They won't be home tomorrow. This is torture! It's for a good reason but I am getting really down right perturbed, and that's being polite about it.

They had another slow start from Weeki Wachee. One of their vehicles died which meant finding another that ran, unloading, reloading, and then transferring the fuel. It wasn't Juicer or the Avalanche is all I know for sure. They almost decided to take SR50 to Brooksville and come home that way but in the end the continued south.

First they hit Hudson and then Bayonet Point right on the coast at the tip end of SR52. Travelling had become a little easier since US19 had finally widened up but it also meant that there were more cars to swerve around. They passed Port Richey and had just pulled into New Port Richey when they spotted a group of men and women fending off a small horde of zombies. Juicer went to work and got the mess of infecteds down to a manageable size so that the other group could extricate their vehicles and do their own share of the clean up.

The new group is based out of Tarpon Springs and holds the whole wharf area there, defending it against zombies, pirates, and land raiders alike. They are interested in building a trade relationship with Sanctuary and our convoy has been invited to stay the night. Under the circumstances it would have been rude to not accept.

They'll be there most of tomorrow if not a second night and then backtrack to Elfers to catch SR54 all the way to US41 and then it'll be a straight shot home. That means that they should be home on Sunday. I swear I'll be lucky to have any color left in my hair by the time they get home.

Patricia is doing better. Her blood pressure has stabilized and she's managed to keep more food down. I hadn't realized she still had morning sickness so bad. Not putting on enough weight probably hasn't helped her health. She's staying better hydrated and that is helping as well.

Regardless, even if she gets off of bed rest, she is out of the major chore cycles. No guard duty certainly because no stairs. No laundry duty because no heavy lifting. No garden duty for similar reasons. She might be able to help Dante' and Hank some with clerical work but again maybe not because no heavy lifting or bending up and down. But I did think of something and that's helping Brandon catalog the books in the library. I don't know, we'll have to see how things progress.

Today was cleaning day yet again. Didn't really get too much of that done beyond the basics because when the kids decorated for the holidays they went whole hog. It looks like the Spirit of Christmas spewed all over the house. I don't begrudge them but it's surreal to be outside living our current day-to-day lives of self-reliance and zombies and then to come inside to something that mimics our previous life so closely that it is almost painful. It makes me miss my family all the more.

But there is no going back. Some of the things we do mimic our previous lives, but imitation is all it is. We have to find a way to go forward dragging some of our traditions with us, but we also need to forge new ways of doing things and create new traditions that better serve and suit our new lives.

I felt at such loose ends by lunch time that I went on one of the Gathering Runs, something I hadn't done all week. As a community we haven't really been focused on the runs as much as we once were. Whereas before we took anything and everything, now the runs are more focused. Sanctuary's storehouses are full to overflowing and we are still playing catch to get everything inventoried and put away.

Now there is talk that each individual household should stock up on food and supplies just in case of emergency. All agreed that those "personal" supplies would be voluntarily donated back to the community should the need arise, but I'm thinking that this might be a way to eventually cut back on one of the meals served in the dining hall or at least cut out one or two meals a week. Again, it's not a matter of begrudging working for a group purpose or benefit but every once in a while I miss the feeling of a quiet family meal. The meals we eat now remind me of a college cafeteria or a noisy buffet restaurant; fun and entertaining most of the time but irritating if that's the only option and you aren't in the mood.

Privacy is a rare commodity these days. We're slowly getting a few opportunities to experience it which I feel is healthier than the way we have been living. On a personal level I really dislike living in a fishbowl. I know that's a contradiction since I seem to get so much out of people watching but I try and give people their privacy if I'm aware that I'm invading their space too much. The problem is that humans are gregarious and social by nature. There are only a limited number of people here in Sanctuary. By necessity we have to work closely together and by necessity we all need to get along together almost constantly. There are just some moments when I don't feel like getting along, I don't feel like totting the party line, when I just want everyone to leave me alone. This must be how Angus feels. I know Scott gets like this and he and I have both used his shed for a little bit of "me and me alone" time.

Maybe the addition of the new people will help with this and maybe it won't. I don't think Matlock would have invited them into our community if there wasn't a significant chance that it could work out. Even if he had made some boneheaded choice, the other three men would have called him on it. Kind of a leadership with checks and balances. All I know is that we are being asked to prepare for four families; we don't even know their size or make up yet because they don't want to put too much information out over the airwaves. What we do know is that two of the four family groups are actually close extensions of the same family. That could mean same family different generations or maybe sibling groups, but again we won't really know until they roll up and everyone gets introduced.

I hope they have a decent number of adults or older teens that can help with the additional work load. Losing … temporarily … four adult males from the work roster is taking its toll. Cease came down with a bad cold today due to having to work nightshift on the Wall for longer hours on the cool nights we are having. James also sounds like he is getting congested. If he gets it you can bet its likely to run like wildfire through our home which could mean that David and Rose, and maybe Samuel too, catch it taking two or three more people out of the work rosters.

I'm going to take James' evening shift on the Wall tomorrow and James is going to fill in for Cease's daytime shift assuming he isn't hacking up a lung by then. My shift will run from four to ten o'clock PM. I'll be up in my favorite NW tower and Matlock has said that as long as I'm OK up there by myself, during the daylight hours it would be alright to bring up some of my other work with me. Using the dogs was so successful the other night that he has some of the younger boys scheduled to walk the dogs from 6 pm to 8 pm and then the remaining nightshift will be split between him and whoever else is still available.

And since I'm going to be up so late tomorrow … this time on duty rather than due to insomnia … I'm going to head off to bed right now.

The men will be home day after tomorrow … I just keep telling myself that.


	86. Day 131

**Day 131 (Saturday)**

Ugh, this is brutal. We lost contact with the men mid-morning. It was in the middle of a nice, calm transmission so there's no reason to think there's any problem. They were down to one patched up radio so maybe the patch failed. The altercation in Trenton damaged both radios or the antennas or something so maybe it's just a result of that. We don't know for sure.

Now we don't know when they are coming in tomorrow. We didn't even get a confirmation that they definitely would be coming in tomorrow.

The day didn't get any better after that either. I nearly got in a brawl with Rachel. I don't know what her problem is all of a sudden, but let me tell you I nearly blew a gasket. I wound up losing all patience with her. I'm not the only one she managed antagonize either.

I admit I was upset and let my frustration show on my face and by groaning. It wasn't directed at anyone. I wasn't even talking to anyone when I did it. It was mostly just me being a little dramatic to vent some steam and wasn't really anything more than a groan and me slamming my fist down on the table when I realized what had happened. Well Rachel, who had been standing there during the transmission, turned to me after my little outburst and said thoughtlessly, "You need to get ahold of yourself. This is just the way things are."

OK, so maybe she didn't mean it to be hurtful or sound like an unfeeling wench … but that's exactly how she made me feel; like my emotional response to the situation was uncalled for and invalid.

At the best of times my temper can catch me off guard so I have to really pay attention and consciously work at controlling it. I'm not explosive most of the time but I can burn low and cold and keep it to myself until I snap and flair up at whoever happens to have set me off. But this wasn't the best of times and I wasn't at my personal best either. It took everything I had not to blow my stack. I've been keeping my fears to myself and no one really knows how upset I've been. I've played the good girl … the good little soldier. I was and am prepared to continue playing that role by my own choice; but no one is going to dictate to me how I feel on the inside.

She wouldn't stop though. "Did you hear what I told you?"

In a controlled voiced I told her, "Rachel, I suggest you leave me alone."

"Excuse me?"

"I said leave … me … alone. Your advice isn't helping."

After telling Matlock, and Waleski who was also there, where I was going to be and to please let me know if radio contact was re-established I went to leave. "It wasn't advice. I was telling you what you were going to do."

That was it. After days of making myself sick with worry I just didn't have the where with all to stop my own mouth. I turned around and looked her straight in the face and said, "You must have me confused with some other woman that thinks someone died and left you in control."

Waleski just stood there with a "What the crap?" look on his face. Matlock stood up and started ushering me out of the radio shack and frankly I was letting him. I hadn't completely lost it yet and was still capable of realizing a fight would not help the situation.

Then Rachel looked at Matlock and said, "Sir, are you going allow her to talk to a superior like that?"

Oh yeah, the estrogen started zinging in my veins. Now don't get me wrong, I grew up in a military family and I have the utmost respect for those who serve or who have served at some point in their lives. Even more I have a great deal of respect for those of us in Sanctuary who were active duty military or National Guards called to active duty. But ... BUT … Sanctuary is not a military base. Nor was I drafted. And our central government has abandoned us to fend for ourselves until further notice. Where Rachel suddenly pulled the fact that she was in any way my superior I have no idea.

Waleski said, "Damn Ragosa."

She responded, "And you're another who is letting way too many things slide."

Well, my politeness took flight at that point and I put her on notice real quick. "Rachel if you somehow imagine that you sleeping with Dixon in anyway makes you superior to me I suggest you take another look at that."

Now Matlock and Waleski both had the "Oh crap" look on their faces.

She looked like I had just slapped her. "What the hell are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything. You and Dixon had and have a private relationship going on. It was one that you both choose despite the fact that it began when he was supposed to already be in a committed relationship to someone else and there was and is a kid involved. If you think however … "

"You are way out of line lady."

"My name is Sissy or Mrs. Chapman, take your pick. I'm proud of both. But if you think I'm currently in the mood to act like a lady where you are concerned you have oh so sadly misjudged this situation."

This time it was Waleski that tried to usher me out and again I was willing to go simply because I really didn't want to fight on top of being worried about Scott.

"I'm not done with her."

Uh oh. Now she'd stepped in it with both Matlock and Waleski but if everyone was calling dibs on their place in line I was still first. I looked at Matlock and said, "I'd prefer to handle this myself please."

Then I turned to Rachel. "I really don't know what your problem is but if you need to have it out fine. You want to know why I'll listen to Matlock, Waleski, and maybe just about everyone else right now, before I'd listen to you? It's because Matt and Waleski proved themselves to me long before you came on the scene. Because they have my respect and continue to behave in ways that prove they're due my respect. It has nothing to do with uniforms or rank. I grew up military and uniforms and ranks don't impress me, it's the people in the uniforms that do. Yes, I had a problem with the affair you had with Dix; but Patricia solved that by making a hard choice and by how she's chosen to behave since then. I promised myself that I would never hold a grudge she wasn't willing to hold. You … you and Dix … are the ones that seem to continue to have the problem."

She opened her mouth on an angry retort but I continued and cut her off.

"If you miss Dix and are worried about him and disturbed and maybe a little angry that this run hasn't gone as planned you have my understanding and empathy because that's how I feel with regard to Scott and this run. Frankly it's been eating me alive and that small display of frustration you witnessed is nothing compared to how I really feel. On the other hand if you're just PMSing and dealing with some other kind of issue then you need to understand one thing. The people … the government … that gave you that rank you seem to be so ever-loving fond of at the moment … well they are gone and may never be back. They left us here. They left you here. There is no structure that any longer gives you any right to command in this geographical area. All you have now is your own personal merits. It's no longer what do we owe you because of some stripes on your arm. It's what can you do for Sanctuary? What can you give? And how do you measure up on a day in and day out basis?"

Oh, she was furious all right. Maybe Dixon wasn't the only one having trouble dealing with the MacDill evacuation and what it represented. "You little … "

Matlock stepped in and said, "Ragosa, you better rethink whatever is about to come out of your mouth. We are a small group. Even if you don't agree with anything else Sissy says she is right about the fact that things are different. We don't lead based on the authority we used to have. The only authority we now have is that given to us by the people living here in Sanctuary. Your attitude about that is going to have to adjust. Even Dixon has been coming to realize that and I know that his new understanding of the situation is one of the problems you two are having."

I think Matlock saying that out loud was his way of giving me a clue to tread lightly, that there were other things going on that I wasn't aware of.

With absolute conviction Rachel stated, "They'll be back and the USA still stands."

I said, "I want to believe that and I know that part of it still does but you don't really think that the government still exists in the format it did six months ago do you? The population of this country is less than half what it was and probably a good deal less than that. Maybe less than a quarter that it was, maybe a tenth or less. All of the large population centers have been decimated by NRS. That would shrink the size of the government, not leave it the same size it was. And what are they going to use to pay their bills which include your military salary with? Their looks? The industrial centers are gone. Tax income will be nonexistent for years. Paper money means nothing anymore. Neither do precious metals or gems. You can't eat them or plant them and they are of no practical use for protection against the zombies. However things used to be … they've changed. Things have changed permanently. They are not going to go back to the way they were before. I may not like it but there it is in a nutshell. And, we are just going to have to be flexible enough to live with that; on a social level and on a personal level."

It was like trying to reason with a brick wall. She crossed her arms and attempted to stare me down which was stupid. I dealt with teens and tweens on a daily basis. I have a black belt in the stare down technique.

"Look, as a medic I have the utmost faith in your abilities. Even when you've lost patients you've still gone above and beyond to do more for them than anyone could have expected based on your level of training. I give you a lot of respect for that and I would bring my kids to you any day of the week without hesitation. Scott and I even have placed Rose's apprenticeship and education in your hands because we think it is the right thing to do. But don't talk to me about how I should or should not comport myself when it comes to my husband. On that particular subject you don't have good standing with me. If it was just my general behavior you had a problem with fine but let me tell you about this from my stand point. I was in a room with three other people that I thought would understand and forgive the fact that my feelings and concern for Scott would make me emotional. I was not out in the middle of the three dozen other residents of Sanctuary doing this. If that had been the case I would have chosen to go off by myself to express my emotions. You don't need to tell me how to act or how to feel. And quite frankly, it's a waste of your time and mine to try because I will never give up that autonomy that I have an inalienable right to. I'll take suggestions. I won't be dictated to."

I walked out on my own that time, afraid if I didn't I would eventually say something way on the other side of stupid.

It took me until lunch time to get rid of the adrenaline shakes. Strange thing was I was hungry when by rights I probably should have been sick to my stomach over everything. I'm just glad I didn't have lunch or dinner detail today. I grabbed a quick bite to eat and then hoofed it away from everyone. I haven't seen Rachel since this morning but did have Matlock and Waleski look me up out in the orange grove where I was pulling oranges; first Waleski who said everything and nothing and left and then Matlock.

They were both trying to see whether I was still angry I think. Thankfully they didn't try to defend Rachel. On the other hand they didn't say anything against her either. I told them that I was fine, that I was not going to go around picking any fights, nor was I going to go around gossiping about what transpired. I told them, "My fights are my fights. I don't expect other people to fight them for me. I understand your concerns and part of me shares those same concerns. I just hope you are making sure that she isn't stooping to those lows either. "

Matlock sighed and said, "Sissy don't take this so hard. I have a responsibility to everyone here in Sanctuary. If you and Rachel can't get along there could be serious consequences."

"And that's why you are in the position you're in and why Scott and I respect you; you don't just take things for granted. Really Matt, I'm not spoiling for a fight though Rachel hasn't made this any easier for either of us. I'm not the one that had the affair and while it may not have been my business in a technical sense in another way it sure as heck was. I'm raising kids under difficult enough circumstances. Dixon is considered one of the leaders of this very small community. Rachel has a lot of standing as well because she is one of our medics. My kids see that and they are all young enough, even Rose and James, to be influenced by the behaviors they exhibit. They are accountable."

"Come on Sissy, I'm not sure that had anything to do with what was going on. You're the one that brought it up."

"Matt, I haven't said anything, not even to Scott. because I thought it was just between Rachel and I but you have got to understand something. Before I found out about her and Dix Rachel and I were turning into really good friends. Their affair put me in a very difficult position when I stumbled upon them and they asked me not to say anything 'til they worked things out. Patricia wasn't very well at that point if you will recall and Samuel spent as much time at our house as any place else. I was afraid to even talk about it to Scott 'cause he can be really funny about that stuff that could affect the kids. Then Patricia said she knew and Scott basically told me that everyone knew … call me a prude but yeah, I was confused and upset. In my opinion Rachel and Dix weren't setting good examples. They weren't living up to their positions of accountability. But I was willing to let it go after Patricia decided how she wanted to handle it. And now, in a really weird turn of events, Patricia and I are becoming friends. But because of that, and maybe because she and Dix aren't living happily-ever-after, Rachel has been acting really strange towards me. Not really hostile exactly … ok, yeah, hostile just the passive aggressive kind. I've not said anything and I've basically been letting everything slide because one, I don't want things to be any harder here in Sanctuary than they already are; two, Patricia doesn't need the stress because she could lose the baby and Samuel is like one of my own kids; three, Dixon, while maybe not someone I easily understand is still one of the accepted leaders here in Sanctuary and democracy is what it is; and last, because Rose is Rachel's apprentice and I don't want to mess that up. But I'm getting tired of pussy-footing around. I can't continue to just let things slide. They aren't getting better. In fact it's just getting harder and more complicated from my standpoint."

Sighing, "I didn't know about the other stuff. Can you hold on a little longer? She and Dix aren't working things out as easily as I guess they expected to. The military was just about their whole lives. Of everyone I've talked to about the pull-out they are taking the MacDill evacuation the hardest. The bit you pointed out about the central government is just that much more for them to take in. Their whole way of looking at life is being tested."

"Matt I'm not going to go out and cause an intentional fight. You saw I was willing to walk away several times. She's just intentionally pushing my buttons every time I turn around and right now that's awful hard to take."

Matlock raised one eyebrow and said, "Mother hen?"

"Smart aleck. Look, I know I should have experience with that kind of behavior. I expect that out of the kids, I didn't expect it from a grown woman that I once could say without a doubt was a good friend. But … to the best of my ability … I will try to avoid any confrontations with Rachel. Is that good enough?"

He nodded and chuckled. He wasn't making fun of me or belittling me. He's just one of those people that try to use humor to defuse stressful situations. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. This time it kinda did.

I don't know, maybe it's time some of this whole mess gets aired out. I get tired of stepping around these new and different relationships that are forming in the wake of all the changes NRS has wrought. It started when I had to learn to be a different kind of mother to James. I was certainly better prepared to let Rose grow up than him. We're square now but I still feel like I always have to be careful and I'm afraid that I'm somehow going to upset the apple cart. Scott and I have to change the way we do things as well. I know we'll eventually work it out, we've always eventually worked things out, there's just so much these days that gets in the way.

And all of this micro-sizing of things doesn't help with privacy to do the working out in. Out of well over a million people in our county the only people we can say for sure are still alive is our small band of less than 50 people; less than one percent of the previous population. The odds are so stacked against us it's not even funny.

But, "peoples are peoples." We bring all of our human foibles with us no matter where we go or how many of us there are. I'll try and work things out with Rachel but I can't do it all myself. If she isn't willing to do her share I'm not sure how much will get accomplished.

After I left the orange grove I took care of the kids, made James some tea and honey for his cough, and then got dressed to go on guard duty. And now here I sit up in this blasted cold guard tower watching the sun set; yet again wondering where Scott is and whether he is OK and when will he be home. And …

Gotta go ring the alarm bell, I heard some rumbling being carried this way on the wind and the spyglass shows something big coming down US41 but it's too dark for me to see it clearly.


	87. Day 132

**Day 132 (Sunday)**

This has been a fantabulous day. It's also been one that I wouldn't relive for all the tea in China.

I got Scott back last night. I mean Scott got back last night. It turned out the "big thing" that was coming down US41 was our convoy. The fact that it was 8 vehicles all driving slowly and close together is what made it confusing from far off. We need a better set of binoculars in each guard tower.

It was nearly full dark by the time they got to the gates and then we had to figure out where everyone was going to park. The kids were absolutely crazy by that time. Scott couldn't even get out of the cab of the semi he was driving before Johnnie, Bubby, and Sis were swarming all over him. Our other kids, regardless of their age, were just as bad but at least they let him get both feet on the ground. Even Sarah refused to be left behind. Scott picked her up and carried her back to our driveway which turned out to be the centralized meeting point. As they kept walking away all I could do was stare. The semi he was driving, at least the cab of it, was my brother's. I could tell because his name and independent trucking license # was stenciled on the side. James put his arm around me when he saw what I was looking at and pulled me over to join the crowd. Scott knew I had seen it but he shook his head. I had to wait to find out what it was all about.

It really was getting late for all of this and with no outdoor electric lights to speak of beyond those solar gardening lights we have strung up in various locations, we had to pull out all our batteries and plug in some of the halogen spots lights that we keep for emergencies or in case of night time raider problems. We all traipsed over to the dining hall because milling around was making it too difficult to get organized. Several of us heated water for coffee, tea, or cocoa while everyone else found a seat so that we could get the introductions out of the way.

You could tell the new people were nervous about sitting out in the open like we do but we assured them that the Wall had stood for months now and that it was impervious to zombie attacks. When one of the new kids asked whether "ragers" could get through the new adults became even more nervous. We did what we could to set them at ease but it's just going to take some time. They've obviously all been through difficult experiences. After that we got down to business. First our four men were officially congratulated and welcomed back home. Next the twelve new residents of Sanctuary were introduced.

The patriarch of the clan is 70 year old Mr. Paul Morris, a widower of many years. With him will live his daughter in law Reba, herself a widow of nearly ten years. Reba's children made up the rest of that household: Clay Jr. aged 19, Claire aged 18, Clark aged 15, and Callie aged 13.

The next household is headed by the 50 year old son of Mr. Morris. Kevin and his wife Betty have two children and one grandson with them. Rilla is 25 and worked as a substitute teacher when she wasn't pursuing her degree in education. Her son Ty is two years old; the father of the boy – they never married – refused to leave Trenton and basically abandoned them "to the fate they had chosen." Their son J. Paul is 20 and was home on leave from the Army for a couple of weeks before being deployed overseas. He was cut off from his unit that was still stationed along the Texas border when Florida was quarantined.

The last is a household of one. Rhonda is a spitfire pure and simple. I think I'm going to like her. She is twenty-two, single, and five months pregnant. She lost everything and then some and still refused to give up. She stood in the middle of the road to make Dixon stop and then managed to talk her way into a place in the convoy. She even drove a loaded down pick up truck herself the whole way here and asked for no special treatment. The baby's father, away pursuing his doctorate degree when the New York City riots started, was a second cousin or something like that to Reba which is how our men met the other four families.

The Nicholson's and Brady's decided to remain in Tarpon Springs. Scott thinks they'll come to regret it. In his words the Tarpon Springs enclave may be a nice place to visit but he wouldn't want to live there. Rather than live in a subdivision or similar type community where each family can have their own home, that enclave has chosen to turn the businesses along the Wharf into a multifamily type setting. It's not quite apartment living but it's not quite group living like you would have in a commune either. Angus complained of there being too many people in too small of a space and no one disagreed with him.

The Nicholson's were the parents of the adult-aged special-needs child. They simply refused to go any further than the first large compound they came to. The Brady's – the other family in the convoy – chose Tarpon Springs because of the fishing fleet. What were our men supposed to say? Those two families had agreed to come to Sanctuary in exchange for safe passage south but they changed their mind. It was a loss because both men were metalworkers by trade.

After the mutual introductions were over the cattle needed to be dealt with. There were two bulls, one full sized adult and an adolescent that was definitely happy to be out of the trailer, then there were a half-dozen Jersey heifers. In addition to the cows there were two nanny goats, fourteen laying hens and a rooster, two sows and one boar hog, six of the nosiest geese you have ever run across, three bird dogs (one female and two males), and an old male house cat Rhonda rescued while they were stopped in Weeki Wachee who subsequently decided to adopt her.

By that time it was very late. After learning from Jack that Patricia was in the hospital, Dixon offered his house to the senior Mr. Morris until they could set up a house of their own. Kevin and Betty opted to stay there as well. Rhonda said she would stay in the women's barrack until she figured out a few things which worked out quite well.

We all separated to our homes or assigned duties. After Scott and I finally got the last kidlet to lay down and go to sleep we settled in for a quiet and private welcome home celebration of our own. Afterwards as we lay wrapped in each others' arms I finally had to ask.

"Scott, what about my parents, brother, and his boys?"

He sighed deeply, "Sissy, it's not something easy to talk about. Are you sure you want to get into this now?"

"I have to know. Please Scott. I've waited as long as I could stand."

"Babe … you're parents … ," he cleared his throat and then tried again. "Your brother left a letter for you in case you ever showed up at the home place. I'll give it to you tomorrow and you can read it when you are ready. Basically your mom ran out of some of her medications. Their last refills never came in. She started having some of her spells and she … you know how depressed she could get. She couldn't stop crying. They had all gone to a community meeting to try and figure out who needed what. Your dad had been under a lot of stress and hadn't had his pills either and in the middle of the meeting he collapsed. Your mother lost it and when someone tried to giver her a tranquilizer she had some kind of seizure and then passed out. They both wound up at that clinic outside of town, unresponsive. The local NRSC rep found out about it and … it wasn't just them Sissy; other patients were euthanized too."

By that time I was crying so hard I could barely listen.

"Your brother and some other people stormed the clinic but it was too late. He took their bodies and buried them himself on their property. It looks real nice if that means anything. He packed up nearly everything in the house and locked it in his semi-trailer that he had hidden behind their home. Then he loaded some food and a few other things in your dad's old Ford pickup and he and the boys took off for your relatives in Kentucky. There's no way to tell if he made it there or not."

Scott was exhausted. I didn't blame him for falling asleep after holding me for a while. Eventually I couldn't lay there any more even if it meant I had to give up the only comfort I had which was holding onto him. I went out and sat in the backyard and listened to the birds wake up. As the first rays tried to peak out of the east, I went inside and got Kitty before she could wake Scott up and I watched the sky lighten as I fed her.

Sanctuary was more quiet than usual. By first light most people normally are up and working, laughing, or at least moving with a purpose. I thought of breakfast but then remembered I wasn't on that crew today. Then I thought about the animals, wondering whether they were being cared for and by whom. That's where I decided to go after leaving a note for Scott in case he woke up before I got back.

Walking towards the large enclosure with Kitty in a sling on my back, I could hear cows complaining even before I got there. As I went to open the gate I heard a woman laugh and say, "Lordy Dad, but I do love me a nice strong wall. I feel safer than I have in a long time. I don't mind the fenced in feeling as much as I thought I would. You can't even hardly hear those monsters moving around out there. I am so glad you agreed to this move."

Then as I came through the gate I saw the elder Mr. Morris nodding as he milked one cow and Reba as she milked another. I startled them both when I asked if there was anything I could do to help. We all chuckled a little self-consciously when I tried to apologize for scaring them.

While we got to know one another I milked the three nannies who were bleating their own opinion of humans who could not keep up with their schedule. It turned out that Reba knew my mother from the Quilting Guild though they attended different chapters and Mr. Morris had met Mom and Dad a few times at Williams Auction House in High Springs. They both expressed their sympathy and Mr. Morris in his gruff but kind voice said, "They were real fine people. I was proud to know 'em."

Their sympathy was almost my first undoing of the day. I told myself that I had to get used to the reality, much like everyone else had, and accept my parents being gone from this side of forever in my life. I did my best to acknowledge their sympathy appropriately but it wasn't easy. They understood anyway and Reba patted my shoulder as we finished up and took the milk over to the dining hall.

During breakfast, which Scott had been awakened for by our kids, Mr. Morris asked if we had a creamery or well house. Getting a negative response he made a few suggestions that we all were interested in. I think that was gratifying for him and seeing the old man grow more and more comfortable in his surroundings helped the rest of his family do so as well.

Butter, cheese, cottage cheese, sour cream, and everything else made from fresh cow's milk plus whatever we can make from the goats' milk will be a very welcome addition to Sanctuary's pantries. There's a trick though to making and keeping these types of items from spoiling in Florida's near constant warm weather and high humidity. You need to create a reasonably cool environment where the temperature can be somewhat controlled and you need to keep a good rotation of the dairy items in mind when planning menus.

Scott and I volunteered to show the Morris family around Sanctuary. This served two purposes. We stayed together most of the day but continued to provide a service for Sanctuary and it gave Scott a chance to see what had occurred during his absence.

After we showed them all the nooks and crannies of Sanctuary it was time for me to help prepare lunch while Scott took some time to be with the kids. I had gathered quite a bit of fresh fruit when I was showing off the native fruit trees and orange grove. I used it to make a large bowl of fruit salad. We pulled out all of the loaves of bread we baked yesterday and cut them into sandwich slices. Then I made a large bowl of tuna salad, a large bowl of chicken salad, and a jar of peanut butter.

After lunch we cleaned up while Matlock and Dixon helped both Morris families to pick their new houses. Rhonda intends to remain in the women's barrack for a while. Scott asked everyone to make a list of any repairs that needed to be made and he would get to them as soon as possible. Mr. Morris just laughed and said, "Son, I been doin' my own fixing for over 50 years now. You wanna come hep me dat's fine but you ain't gotta do 'em for me."

Scott was surprised but in a good way. I think it's going to be nice for him to not be the only one that knows how to do the repair and maintenance on the houses. That also means there'll be another person that can help teach others to be more self-sufficient in that respect. Excessive specialization of abilities is out these days. We all cross-train to do different tasks and trades. We are too few to lose even one person who may be the only person that knows how to do some vital task. Personally I think Mr. Morris will be a gold mine of information as he has been farming here in Florida most of his life as were his parents, grandparents, and great grandparents before him.

After that Scott and I had a little time to ourselves. We took a walk through the gardens and I showed him what I had done. He talked to me about what they had seen and done while away from Sanctuary. They kept a Road Log of the run and it's been put in the Sanctuary files in the library which Brandon takes care of as our archivist and historian. I asked him if he would write his side of the story out and allow me to stick it in this journal and he said he would start tomorrow.

Slowly we worked our way around to my brother's truck. Scott opened the trailer and said, "I didn't have time to make sure everything was packed so that it wouldn't break but it looks like your brother did the job right. Honey, I know it's awful soon to start going through this stuff but we can't leave the semi here in the middle of the field and the trailer could be used to enlarge the animal enclosure. And there's canned goods and food in there that needs to be put away too. Dix said he would make sure everyone knew that this stuff is off limits but we still need to get it moved within the next couple of days."

Maybe Dixon was more sensitive than I have him credit for being. It was thoughtful of him to be the one to bring up that my parents' stuff was mine to do with what Scott and I would. Of course the whole idea of going through my parents' remaining worldly goods was overwhelming and I started crying again. It wasn't for long. I had begun the process of accepting their deaths back when I lost contact with them. This was just the next phase of the grieving process. I watched Scott go through this when he lost his parents. I thought I understood the enormity of it then. I hadn't. Unfortunately, now I do.

Scott was right. I couldn't just leave all of that stuff in the semi until I felt "ready." I don't think you are ever truly ready for something like this; but, whether I was ready or not it had to be done. He and I grabbed some of the closest boxes from the back of the trailer and took them over to the house to begin sorting through them. Scott got called away to some kind of debriefing so I was left to do this on my own.

I didn't start right away because I needed to deal with Kitty, or maybe I was just delaying things as much as I could. Most of the time the baby is such a good little peanut that I can work with her in a sling on my back all day. Today though wasn't one of those days. She's getting bigger and heavier and now she is getting old enough that she wants to get down and explore her world. That's fine when there is someone to watch her but a lot of the time there isn't. And she will let you know when she wants something other than what you are offering her. She is turning into quite the little character. I have a sneaking suspicion that she will give Johnnie and Bubby a run for their money before too much longer. The idea of a little female Johnnie gives me the shivers.

Lucky for me Rose and Melody were having a getting-to-know-you chat fest with Claire. Josephine and Maddie were over also. Sarah asked Laura to invite Callie as well so basically I had all the under-20 females in Sanctuary out on our lanai having what amounted to a tea party, although there were no frilly hats or stuffed animals to be seen. As soon as they saw me struggling with Kitty they volunteered to watch her for a while so that I could open the boxes and tubs one at a time in my bedroom, privately.

After the first few boxes I knew I was in trouble. I hadn't thought what I was going to do with my mother's various collections. She has … had … all this stuff; milk glass, carnival glass, antique jewelry, antique linens and laces, etc. Then there were all the knick knacks and stuff that she had inherited from her family over the years. If the kids ever wound up moving out and having homes of their own this might work but I had a feeling that for now a lot of this was going to have to be repacked and put in our attic.

I don't know what all that my brother stuck in the trailer. Scott said that he appears to have packed in everything he could move by himself. That would have meant all but the largest furniture since he had all his moving dollies and pads packed into the back of the trailer as well. I hadn't read his letter yet at the time and felt a building frustration that came from trying to imagine how I was going to condense what amounted to two full houses of stuff (their primary home and all of the stuff out of their storage buildings) into one house that was already stuffed with kids and our own flotsam of life.

I took Scott's dollie with me to the semi-trailer next time I went and nearly blew my back out when I didn't think to test the weight of a plastic storage tub before I tried to move it. Adding insult to injury I nearly fell out of the back of the trailer too. But I stopped cussing and fussing when I found out what was actually in the tub. It was the majority of my mother's cast iron cookware. Looking at each piece I ticked it off in my memory. There were the two skillets that she reserved almost exclusively for baking cornbread in. There was the giant skillet that we fried sweet potatoes in every Thanksgiving. There was the tiny, square one that she told me she would scramble my eggs in when I was a baby. There was the spider that belonged to my great grandmother and there was the dutch oven my grandmother used to make blackberry cobbler in for the men who came to chop tobacco on their farm. Some of the pieces I didn't recognize so they likely came from the auctions and yard sales that my parents enjoyed going to.

After that tub I became cautious. I looked for containers that would be easier for me to lift. I peeked into garbage bags and totes full of linens and my mom's sewing and craft stuff. I could just see my mom's big sewing basket basket next to my great great grandmother's treadle sewing machine cabinet. Up in the very front of the trailer I thought I caught a glimpse of my dad's gun cabinet but at the time I couldn't tell if there was anything in. Then I opened a bag and just had to sit down and smell. The bag held some of my dad's shirts, his jacket, and his two Sunday sports coats. I must have looked deranged hugging an overstuffed garbage bag to myself like it was a real person.

Finding that bag set me off again. I put my dad's jacket on despite it being miles too big. I knew most of the clothes would have to go into Sanctuary's storage in case someone could use them. That's even what my parents would have wanted me to do but for now I wanted to be surrounded by the comforting smells of my childhood one last time. My mother made her own laundry detergent and despite many, many attempts I've never been quite able to duplicate it.

Scott, James, and David came by not too long afterwards and ignoring my tear stained face and lack of response, began to help me unload everything and put it into our carport. There's just no way I'm going to go through everything and find it a new home in just a day or two. We're talking about the accumulation of stuff from over 45 years of marriage. We're also talking about my own emotional attachment that I will have to break one item at a time.

After that I was pretty much rolled up physically and mentally but life must go on and we have twelve more people in Sanctuary. That will increase the workload of individual tasks even while it will lighten the overall workload after they all get worked into the chore schedules.

I walked over to do my share of the dinner preparation even though the thought of food was the last thing on my mind. I had almost completed putting my public face on when Bekah ran up to me. After she told me what was going on I nearly lost it yet again. Rose and Melody had organized all the girls, including Sarah and the new young women, to take my place so that I could have a night off to deal with things. I almost couldn't express my gratitude. As I teared up so did the girls so I just gave them a group hug. When I found out that it was actually Patricia who had put the thought in Rose and Melody's head I had to drop by the hospital and thank her too.

I was sorry I hadn't visited earlier in the day and told her so after I got there.

"Honestly Sissy. I can see I'm really going to have to work on your tendency towards martyrdom and excessive self-effacement," she laughed. "Look, being friends doesn't mean we have to live in each other's pocket. Besides I know Scott just got in and you're dealing with all the fal out from finding out about your parents. You should have seen me when my dad died a couple of years ago. My mom left when I was a baby so it was just dad and my grandparents who raised me and he was the only one left by then. If anything, I wish I could help you organize stuff. Dixon was over here and said it was a mess."

Having a friend who understood and was willing to share the burden did help and I was able to half heartedly joke back that at the rate I was going, there would still be plenty for her to help with when her baby was a teenager.

From there I went straight back home. I didn't feel like dinner and I really meant to get to some more of those boxes. But when I got to our room to get a different jacket I saw my brother's letter sitting on my dresser. I must have looked at it for ten minutes before I actually picked it up. And it was nearly as long before I sat down in my rocking chair and un-taped it where Scott had sealed it back up.

DEAR SIS (& SCOTT),

SOMEHOW I HAVE A FEELING THAT YOU WILL EVENTUALLY READ THIS. I DON'T KNOW HOW I KNOW BUT I JUST DO, IT'S ONE OF THE FEW THINGS THAT BRINGS ME ANY COMFORT IN ALL THIS.

I HATE TO BE THE ONE TO TELL YOU THIS BUT AT THE SAME TIME I WOULDN'T WANT IT TO BE ANYONE ELSE. MOMMA AND DADDY ARE GONE. THEY WENT TOGETHER AND FROM WHAT I'VE BEEN TOLD THEY DIDN'T SUFFER. THEY CERTAINLY DIDN'T SUFFER THE WAY MANY HAVE.

THE STORY ISN'T A NICE ONE BUT I FEEL YOU HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW. THINGS WENT FROM BAD TO WORSE AFTER THE BOYS' MOTHER ABANDONED US. I CAN'T EVEN CALL HER MY WIFE ANYMORE 'CAUSE I BELIEVE SHE IS PARTLY TO BLAME FOR WHAT HAS HAPPENED. IF SHE HAD JUST TRIED A LITTLE MORE … BUT I DON'T HAVE TIME OR ENERGY TO GO THERE. I'M NOT SURE I CAN EVER FORGIVE HER THOUGH FOR THAT AND FOR JUST LEAVING OUR BOYS WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT. MOM AND DAD GOT REALLY STRESSED OUT AND I HAVE TO TAKE MY SHARE OF THE BLAME FOR THAT. I SHOULD HAVE SEEN HOW ILL THEY WERE BECOMING.

MOM WAS DETERIORATING AND DAD WAS HAVING CHEST PAINS. THE REFILLS FOR THEIR MEDS NEVER CAME IN. I LOOKED ALL OVER THREE COUNTIES AND COULDN'T GET THEIR PRESCRIPTIONS FILLED AND THEN THE QUARANTINES STARTED. BY THAT TIME THERE WERE LOTS OF PEOPLE IN THIS AREA THAT WERE SHORT OF THINGS THEY NEEDED.

A COUPLE OF LOCAL CHURCHES GOT TOGETHER AND PLANNED A COMMUNITY MEETING HOPING THAT BY SHARING MAYBE MOST OF EVERYONE COULD GET A LITTLE BIT OF WHAT THEY NEEDED. DADDY WAS HOPING THAT MAYBE GETTING MOM OUT OF THE HOUSE FOR A BIT WOULD HELP HER EVEN THOUGH HE WASN'T FEELING A HUNDRED PERCENT HIMSELF.

AT THE MEETING EVERYTHING WAS GOING JUST FINE AND THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN SOME OF THOSE NRS FREAKS WERE SPOTTED IN THE PARKING LOT. PEOPLE STARTED TO PANIC AND THERE WAS A LOT OF PUSHING AND SHOVING. A COUPLE OF GOOD OL' BOYS PUT THE FREAKS DOWN AND FOLKS WERE JUST STARTING TO CALM DOWN WHEN DADDY GRABBED HIS CHEST AND COLLAPSED. WHEN THE DOC THAT WAS THERE SAID THAT HE'D LIKELY HAD A MASSIVE HEART ATTACK MOMMA LOST IT. IT'S BEEN YEARS SINCE I'VE SEEN HER HAVE A SPELL THIS BAD, EVEN WORSE THAN THAT FINAL ATTACK SHE HAD THAT FINALLY GOT THE DOCTORS TO START LISTENING TO DADDY THAT SOMETHING BESIDES FEMALE PROBLEMS WAS HAPPENING.

WELL SOMEONE TRIED TO GIVE HER A SEDATIVE AND SHE HAD A BAD REACTION TO IT OR THE DOC SAID SHE MIGHT HAVE HAD A STROKE FROM HAVING TO GO OFF HER MEDS COLD TURKEY. WE'LL NEVER KNOW FOR SURE. EITHER WAY, WE GOT THEM OVER TO THECLINIC AS FAST AS WE COULD. NO ONE SAID ANYTHING BECAUSE THE NRSC GUY AROUND HERE IS A REAL BASTARD. HE HAD ALREADY BEEN OVER ALL OF THE NURSING HOMES AND ALF'S WITH HIS LITTLE GIZMO FROM HELL.

SOMEONE MUST HAVE SNITCHED THOUGH. I HOPE WHO EVER DID GETS EATEN BY THE ZOMBIES A SMALL BITE AT A TIME. THAT SUMBITCH EUTHANIZED SIX DEFENSELESS PEOPLE THAT MIGHT HAVE HAD SOME LIFE LEFT IN THEM IF WE COULD HAVE GOTTEN THEM GOOD MEDICAL CARE. NONE OF US COULD STOP IT EVEN THOUGH WE RUSHED THE CLINIC DOORS AND BEAT DOWN THE NRSC REP AND HIS LITTLE BITCHES THAT GUARDED HIS SORRY ASS.

THERE WASN'T ANYBODY TO HELP WITH A FUNERAL OR ANYTHING. I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO BUT BRING THEM BACK AND BURY THEM HERE. I HOPE TO NEVER HAVE TO LIVE TO DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT AGAIN. ALL I COULD DO FOR THEM WAS TO PUT THEM SIDE BY SIDE OUT BY MOMMA'S ROSE BUSHES. I MADE SURE TO PUT THEM DEEP SO NO ANIMALS COULD GET TO 'EM. I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO MAKE A MARKER FOR THEM BUT I GUESS MOMMA'S PLANTS IS ABOUT AS GOOD A MEMORIAL AS ANYTHING ELSE. AT LEAST THEY ARE IN THE GROUND, TOO MANY OTHER FOLKS AREN'T AND THE SMELL ON THE AIR HAS MADE ME SICK MORE THAN A TIME OR TWO.

AFTER THE SHIT DOWN AT THE CLINICE MOST FOLKS ABOUND HERE LOST ALL HEART. SOME HAVE JUST HUNKERED DOWN TO WAIT THINGS OUT BUT A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE LEAVING TO TRY AND CROSS THE STATE LINE, HOPING RELATIVES IN GEORGIA AND ALABAMA WILL TAKE THEM IN.

I'M SORRY BUT I JUST CAN'T TAKE CARE OF THE BOYS BY MYSELF. I'M JUST NOT CUT OUT TO BE LIKE YOU OR SCOTT. HELL, THE BOYS MIND SCOTT BETTER THAN THEY EVER MINDED ME. I SHOULD HAVE MADE MOM AND DAD JUST COME WITH US BACK TO TAMPA WHILE THERE WAS STILL TIME.

I WAS GOING TO TRY AND MAKE IT TO TAMPA BUT HEARD ON THE RADIO THAT NOW THE ROADS ARE IMPASSABLE IN PLACES AND THAT THEY'VE GOT ARMED CHECKPOINTS TO KEEP PEOPLE OUT OF THE BIG CITIES. EVEN GAINESVILLE IS A NIGHTMARE FROM THE STORIES.

I'VE THROWN WHAT EASY TO FIX STUFF MOM AND DAD HAD LEFT INTO DADDY'S PICKUP. I ALSO TOOK GRANDADDY'S SHOTGUN, DADDY'S LITTLE GERMAN LUGER, AND THAT .22 THAT WE BOTH LEARNED TO SHOOT ON. I GRABBED WHAT LITTLE MONEY WAS LEFT TOO, I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND. THERE WASN'T MUCH OF IT TO BE TRUTHFUL. KNOWING SCOTT YOU ALL ARE PROBABLY REAL SET IN THAT DEPARTMENT NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS. I'M GOING TO TRY AND GET TO HOPKINSVILLE, MAYBE PADUCAH IF FT. CAMPBELL WON'T LET ME THROUGH. AT WORST I'LL HEAD TO ELKTON AND SEE IF THE MENNONITES THAT BOUGHT THE OLD FARM WILL LET ME CAMP OUT ON THE BACK FIVE AND HELP AROUND THE PLACE IN EXCHANGE FOR OUR KEEP. EVEN IF SOMETHING EVENTUALLY GETS ME I'M SURE SOMEONE WOULD TAKE THE BOYS IN UP THERE.

PRAY FOR US SISSY ALTHOUGH I KNOW YOU PROBABLY ARE EVEN THOUGH YOU CAN'T KNOW WHAT HAS BEEN HAPPENING. I TRIED TO CALL BUT I CAN'T GET THROUGH. I'M NOT SURE I REALLY KNOW WHAT I'M DOING BUT I CAN'T JUST SIT HERE WAITING FOR THE ZOMBIES TO EAT MY KIDS. IF WE ARE MOVING THEN AT LEAST WE'VE GOT US A FIGHTING CHANCE. I'VE HEARD YOU CAN OUTRUN THESE MONSTERS REAL EASY.

IF I CAN, I'LL SEND WORD WHEN WE GET SOME PLACE SAFE. TAKE CARE AND PLEASE DON'T BE MAD AT ME, I JUST COULDN'T STAND IT HERE ANY MORE.

LOVE FOREVER AND ALWAYS,

YOUR LITTLE BROTHER

P.S. I COULDN'T ABIDE THE IDEA OF LETTING MOMMA AND DADDY'S STUFF JUST GET LOOTED. I SPENT A COUPLE OF DAYS LOADING EVERYTHING THAT I COULD INTO MY TRAILER. YOU'LL SPOT IT IF YOU LOOK FOR IT, BUT YOU'LL HAVE TO LOOK GOOD. I ALSO UNHOOKED ALL THE UTILITIES SO NOTHING EXPLODES. YOU KNOW HOW MOM USED TO WORRY ABOUT THAT WHEN THEY WERE GOING TO BE GONE FOR MORE THAN A FEW DAYS.


	88. Day 133

**Day 133 (Monday)**

Well, nothing quite like feeling hung over to get a Monday off to a great start. OK, I wasn't really hung over but I sure did feel like it. I don't even remember falling asleep. Scott said he brought all the kids back from eating supper to find me crashed out on our bed with my brother's letter in my hand. He said the only thing that kept him from freaking out was the fact that he knew that I would be the last person to choose suicide. That shocked me. I guess I was acting a lot more out of it than I was aware of. Bad. Here I have been talking about setting a good example for the kids and first time I really had a chance, I don't think I did it very well. I know my parents wouldn't have been happy knowing that they had caused me so much pain. My parents always considered death a natural part of the life cycle and called funerals "life celebrations" or "home goings" more than anything thing else. That's also how I was raised and is part of my faith but … no excuses. I'm going to consciously try and do better from here on out.

Of course today would be laundry day and boy howdy did the men need their laundry washed. They were filthy. Their clothes were filthy. And all of their equipment, except for their guns, was filthy too. And everything stank really, really badly. I wound up having to boil all of their jeans and socks three times before they were clean enough to be rinsed out and hung to dry. One of Scott's shirts I didn't even bother trying to clean as it had already started to mildew and smelled so bad that I used it as a fire starter instead of putting it in the rag pile.

Speaking of laundry, the men brought back some bigger troughs for us to use as wash tubs. The small troughs are convenient but we have to do so many loads that it takes forever to get things clean, especially when we have to do any kind of bedding. With the bigger troughs we'll be able to do bigger loads or several loads at once. We'll just need to remember to put names on clothing tags like on shirts and jeans. We'll probably continue to do underclothing separately from each other. It will just be easier that way. Sometimes things just get so dirty you can't use them over. Scott has taken to wearing coveralls when he is doing something really filthy to try and save on laundry.

The troughs aren't the only things the men brought back but I haven't had time to hear everything. Scott brought me one particular present that he gave me today. He said he picked it up in the back of a pawnshop they stopped at along the way looking for guns and ammo. Most of the pawnshops were pretty well ransacked but there were a couple where back rooms and locked cabinets were overlooked. He brought me a Luger Mark III .22 long barrel pistol. I haven't had a chance to fire it yet but I hope to later this week just so I can get used to the kick. It's pretty in a gun-ish sort of way. What I like is that it will use the same ammo as the .22 rifle I keep around for using on the Wall-duty and that it is stainless steel. I couldn't do much more than tell the difference between a pistol and a rifle a few months ago and here I am slowly learning all the makers and models of guns and which ammo goes with which and what it will do best. Life has changed so much.

I told Scott to take the rest of Daddy's gun and knife collections and do with them what he thought best. The only thing I asked was that the knives Daddy made himself weren't just thrown in the storage bins. I wanted them to have good homes. I really don't have a clue about what would be best to go where and to whom, but I would like them treated with respect. There were some guns that Daddy used to keep for show pieces like his 1800s Colt revolver so I'm not even sure if that is usable. And he also kept a few of his extra fancy buck knives in sealed cases, but for the most part Daddy was one of those men that saw beauty in how useful something was and not necessarily how much he paid for it. I still have to decide what to do with all of Momma's "pretties" as she called them. There is still a ton of stuff to go through, some useful and some not. The cookbooks were pretty easy to decide what to do with. If it was a duplicate of something I had I put it in the library with a hand written note in front explaining where it came from. If it had any of my mother's hand written notes inside I kept it and put it on my own shelves even if it was a duplicate; the girls will eventually inherit them. My grandmother's recipe box is sitting on my nightstand waiting for me to see if I can find all of her canning recipes and my grandfather's fruit wine instructions. Granny's dandelion wine recipe should be in there too as should Mammy's recipe for Blackberry Jam Cake with Caramel Icing. Some of the large plastic containers that my mom saved I'm taking over to the food storehouse as I get them emptied. I figure they will eventually be needed over there as we get rid of more and more of the commercially processed foods. I still have a lot of stuff to do but like I wrote yesterday, it's going to take me days to go through it all. And frankly I'm not at all certain what to do with some of the furniture. I'll just have to think on that another day.

The commercially canned food I donated to the Sanctuary storehouse without qualms. The home canned foods and Momma's jars, rings, and lids I'm keeping until I go through everything and make sure nothing has spoiled. Also I want to make sure I have the recipes for everything. Daddy had canned a lot of the last batch of venison he had gotten from my uncle and I'm putting that up in our hidden pantries as well. I'm not being selfish but I just want to think about things before I give them all away. I might wind up making some burgoo with some of it so it's not like other people won't be eating it. I guess I just want to dole it out and not see it wasted in any way or rushed through and not appreciated.

I saw the funniest thing at lunchtime. Butch and Sundance can be hysterically comical, so can Angus' two dogs. I don't know if they were always naturally thus or if hanging around my kids have driven them a little nuts. They are good working dogs but they also love to play. Of course Mischief is very maternal and adores the littles. Well, Kitty was wanting down again today and it was just warm enough to put a blanket on the ground and let her roll around so that the rest of us could eat in peace. The four dogs had her corralled in. She'd try and crawl off the blanket and the dogs would box her in. Well, Sarah had finally coaxed the little pup … we think she is some type of spaniel … out and she too was laying on the blanket but she was playing and not being helpful in the least. If anything she was winding Kitty up even more than she had been before. The big dogs started boxing the pup in with the baby to keep her from rolling off the blanket too. Well, Mischief finally looked at me and gave me this doggie look that said, "I don't know who is worse, the baby or the puppy. They have both pulled my tail and bitten my ears several times already."

Before I could say something to Scott, Mr. Morris comes over and the three bird dogs are following him. We all made a grab for our four dogs, the pup, and Kitty since we weren't sure what would happen. I swear if those dogs didn't look at us like we had lost our minds. All any of us could do was laugh. After a few minutes of smelling each other and establishing their "packness" I guess you would call it, they all lay down together as easy as you please. Mischief still isn't partial to the two male bird dogs getting near Kitty but she doesn't mind Lady, the female bird dog, coming near her. Lady is a little skittish around Mayhem but I think in the end they'll all learn to get along. All the male dogs eventually decided it was too tame to sit around watching a baby so they went for a run while Mischief and Lady watched the pup and Kitty.

Sarah said she is going to write a storybook for Kitty that tells her what being a baby was like in Sanctuary during our "pioneer days." That should prove interesting. Josephine said she will teach Sarah how to draw animals and Brandon said that he'll put the book in the library when she is through. You should have seen that child's face light up when she heard that.

Angus left after dinner to go work on his outpost. Scott said he picked up odds and ends, including a wood burning stove, while they were on the run. I can understand it. He's put it off for quite some time to lend a hand around Sanctuary. He will be missed though. I packed him up a bunch of home canned stew, soups, and chilis to get him started and also gave him a jar of sourdough so that he could make bread if he is so inclined. Scott and Jim plan on going over tomorrow to give him a hand with the heavy lifting. He was explaining at lunch that he just felt the need to hurry up and get his place secured. Makes my nerves itch to think of why he would need to "hurry up."

We haven't had a large horde of zombies in a while though we've had several smaller groups to deal with. They never go away and as bizarre as it sounds we've begun to treat them like we would any other dangerous, wild animal. We've been lucky. Scott said that on the run they kept seeing fresh, and relatively fresh, corpses where you wouldn't expect there would be any. There may be more people left alive than we think but most people are cut off and just keeping to themselves for whatever reason. Not in the big cities though. Those places look like they were emptied with scavengers and refugees piling into the suburbs and rural areas and moving through like locusts; especially along any major road ways.

The other thing I worry about are raiders. When Matlock told them about what had happened while they were gone I don't know which of the four men were angrier. Dixon had already had a bad taste in his mouth from when the refugees were in Sanctuary. I think there is serious talk about not taking in any more refugees but I don't know. We may have to wait and see how what individual circumstances turn out to be.

Rachel let Patricia up as long as she didn't lift anything or move around. Scott and Dixon brought over a folding chaise lounge for her to lie on. Jack sat nearby during lunch but didn't try to push things while Dix talked to Patricia to catch up on how she and Samuel had been during his absence. I saw Dix and Jack talking later on and they shook hands. At dinner it was Jack sitting beside Patricia. I guess all that will work out eventually. And Samuel seems to slowly be coming to accept it.

I wish I could say the same with Dix and Rachel. I had sliced my hand on a sour orange tree thorn and went over to the hospital to get some help cleaning it out. I didn't mean to eavesdrop but I caught the tail end of a conversation as I walked in.

I could hear Dixon say, "I'm not going over it again Rachel. I don't agree with you and no amount of your pushing is going to change that. Let it alone or you're just going to cause problems that I'm going to have to deal with and you may not like my methods very much."

Whoa. I tried to turn around and leave before they saw me but Dix said, "Its OK Sissy, we're through talking."

I didn't know quite what to say as Dix walked out the door so I told Rachel what had happened and asked her opinion on whether I should cover the scratch up or let it breathe.

"Here, let me see. Did you clean this yet?"

We both tried to act like I hadn't heard Dix's last statement and I think we were both trying to get beyond whatever the problem is that is causing us to brangle.

"How do you and Scott do it?"

Not sure what she meant I asked, "How do we do what?"

"You know. How do you two go through all this crap and still get along, work as a team, whatever."

"Rachel, you must have Scott and I confused with some perfect people you read about in some marriage counseling seminar or something. Scott and I are far from perfect and we have our problems just like everyone else."

"But you don't seem like it. You sure don't boss each other around. Do you just know what the other person is thinking or wants? How do you pull it off?"

"Look, Scott and I have had our fair share of problems, especially the first year or two we were married. We are both strong-willed with have strong personalities. You've undoubtedly noticed I can be a firecracker that goes off with bad timing. But Scott and I are both committed to making our marriage work. We don't just love each other, we like each other too; we're best friends. And when they say marriage is work that's an understatement. Ask our kids, we've done our fair share of bickering and we haven't always handled things as well as we could. We've gone through some very dark times and we've had some really great times. When the dark times roll around, and they always will, we try hold on to the memories from the good times."

"What about now though? Who's the boss? Who has the last word and why?"

"You want the truth? I'm perfectly happy leaving being 'the boss' to Scott. We've always had a traditional kind of relationship and that's what works for us. But Scott takes being the ultimately responsible individual very seriously. He's always put the rest of us first even when it was hard or unfair. For over ten years he worked two jobs so that we could get someplace where we didn't have to worry so much how we were going to put food on the table, keep a roof over our heads, and take care of our kids. I never forget all his sacrifices. Not a day goes by that I don't give him credit for all he's done and all he is doing right now. And he's been good about remembering that I make similar sacrifices and appreciate them."

"That … sounds … I don't think I could live like that. I was always told that marriage is supposed to be a partnership. No one partner is the boss of the other. What you are talking about is just too old fashioned. I've worked hard to get where I am at."

I laughed. "Did I say we weren't partners? We discuss everything and there are very few big decisions we make without consulting each other. But even in a business partnership there are rules and usually one partner has seniority over the other, at least in some areas. And as for work, just because it's been a number of years since I officially worked outside of our home doesn't mean that I haven't worked. I helped with our business. I've spent years raising and educating our children. Girl, there is no job on the planet that pays enough for someone to do the job of wife and mother for financial consideration alone."

"I still don't get it."

"You don't really think Scott and I got it the first year either do you? It's the rare couple that doesn't have all sorts of growing pains they have to go through. You are either growing or you're dying. You just have to decide which it is you want to do."

She got real serious. "I want this to work with Dix but I don't know. I thought if he wasn't with Patricia any more everything could be exactly like we wanted it to be. It's not like that at all. If anything it's harder."

"I'm going to give you a bit of advice and I hope you don't take it the wrong way. Sex is … hmmm … sex is a big responsibility. When you have sex with someone you aren't just having sex with that person, you are having sex with every person that that person ever had sex with. Common sense when it comes to being safe. But love is the same way. And Dix is a package deal with responsibilities to people that come before whatever relationship you two have. Even though he and Patricia aren't together any more there will always be their history together. And Samuel is his son and at a very impressionable age and Dix has to consider that as well. When you two were … well, before Dix and Patricia were over with you two put aside all of those responsibilities. It's like they didn't really exist in the fullest extent of the word. Now they do. The more serious you take the relationship the more serious everything about the relationship becomes."

Rachel shook her head and said, "I'm not sure I totally agree with that. Dix and I always were serious. We didn't set out to hurt anyone."

"Of course not. Think of it like this. Relationships have levels and plateaus. Well, you all have reached the next level, the next challenge. But it's one of the harder ones. Now the rules have changed. His rank isn't what is going to keep him a leader here in Sanctuary. And that rank isn't what is going to keep him a leader in your relationship. You are going to have to see each other for who you really are without the sauce of forbidden fruit to put the spice in your relationship and without the stress of a failing relationship – Dix and Patricia – keeping you together. Those things don't exist anymore, now you have to find out what does exist."

In a frustrated voice Rachel asked, "And if we find that that's all there was? Where does that leave me?"

"I don't have those answers for you Rachel. That's something that is between you and Dix." But I couldn't just leave it at that. "But if it means anything, I do think you and Dix stand a fighting chance. And I do think that Patricia doesn't hold any of this against you which should go a long way towards smoothing y'alls future here in Sanctuary. But, if worse does comes to worse … I'll be there if you want to talk. OK?"

"Yeah," she answered, but grudgingly.

I'm not sure if Rachel gets it or not. She seems to have spent her whole life achieving one huge goal after another; overcoming a rough childhood, getting through college without any financial aid, being a woman in the military, getting medical training despite her normal workload. But relationships don't always work by a predetermined set of rules. And she asked "where does that leave me?" and not where does that leave us. That doesn't bode well for a soft landing.

Aside from a few incidences here and there, the day was pretty mundane. That was welcome relief from all of the stress I had been feeling. I think everyone was happy and I know more than a few have stopped by the Morris families' new homes to see if there was anything they could do. So far so good.

After dinner I came home to find that Scott had left a sheaf of papers on top of my journal with a note that it was a start on the promise he had made. When I picked it up I realized it was the beginning of the North Florida Run from his perspective. I've read what he has written thus far and am sticking it between my own journal entries as he gets each section finished. Anyone reading this in the future might wonder at the change in handwriting … assuming you can even read Scott's hen scratch. His brain moves faster than his hands can keep up.

SCOTT'S VERSION OF THE NORTH FLORIDA RUN  
(Part One)

I'M WRITING THIS BECAUSE MY WIFE ASKED ME TO. IT'S A RECORD OF THE NORTH FLORIDA RUN WE STARTED ON DECEMBER FIRST.

THE DECISION TO GO ON THE RUN WAS MADE QUICKLY; ALMOST TOO QUICKLY. YEAH, I LIKE TO GET OUT AND GET MOVING WITHOUT A LOT OF FUSS BUT AT THE SAME TIME I HAVE A FAMILY TO THINK OF AND PREPARE FOR IN CASE SOMETHING HAPPENED. ONE OF THOSE EVENTUALITIES COULD HAVE BEEN THAT I WASN'T COMING HOME. THESE DAYS YOU NEVER KNOW FOR SURE.

WE BARELY HAD TWO FULL DAYS TO PREPARE AND PACK. THAT WASN'T A PROBLEM UNTIL LATER IN THE TRIP WHEN WE WENT OVER THE LONGEST EXPECTED DURATION OF TIME WE WOULD BE AWAY. SUPPLIES WOULD HAVE BEEN A PROBLEM IF WE HADN'T STOPPED AT MY IN-LAWS'. FUEL WAS A BIGGER ISSUE, ESPECIALLY WHILE WE WERE DEEP INTO RURAL AREAS.

THE MEN WHO WENT ON THE RUN WERE MYSELF, ANGUS CUDDY, SGT. SAM DIXON (US ARMY), AND PVT. HENRY MCELROY (TENNESSEE NATIONAL GUARD). THE TWO VEHICLES WE TOOK WERE ANGUS' SOOPED UP GARBAGE TRUCK KNICKNAMED JUICER FOR ITS UNIQUE WAY OF DEALING WITH ZOMBIES, AND THE CHEVY AVALANCHE I "CONFISCATED" FROM OLD MABLE'S HOUSE BEFORE IT WAS DEMOLISHED. BOTH OF THE VEHICLES HAD THE NEW COMPLETELY WORE OFF OF THEM BEFORE THE TRIP WAS HALF WAY OVER. SO DID WE FOR THAT MATTER.

I DON'T KNOW HOW SMART IT WAS FOR US TO HIT THE ROAD AFTER A BIG PARTY. WE WEREN'T AS RESTED AS WE COULD HAVE BEEN. THE WHOLE TRIP I FELT LIKE I WAS TRYING TO CATCH UP ON SLEEP AND RUNNING THREE DAYS BEHIND. THE ONLY GOOD THING WAS THAT THERE WAS ENOUGH FOOD LEFTOVER THAT SISSY PACKED US SOME GOOD EATS FOR THE FIRST COUPLE OF THE DAYS WHICH MEANT WE DIDN'T HAVE TO COOK.

WE HIT THE ROAD AT 5 AM SHARP ON FRIDAY MORNING. WE KNEW THAT THE INTERSTATES WITHIN TAMPA WERE A MESS AND THAT WE NEEDED TO AVOID I275 TOTALLY. WE TOOK LIVINGSTON AVENUE OUT TO SR56 AND GOT ON AFTER THE I275 AND I75 MERGE.

I KNEW JUST AS SOON AS WE GOT ON WE WERE IN FOR HELL ALL THE WAY. IT TOOK US 15 MINUTES JUST TO NAVIGATE THE ON RAMP. ANGUS, ON POINT DRIVING JUICER, PUSHED WHAT HE COULD OUT OF THE WAY. THERE JUST WASN'T THAT MUCH SPACE LEFT TO PUSH VEHICLES INTO. THE ON RAMP AT SR56 AND I75 IS A BIG ONE; ITS TWO LANES WIDE WITH A DECENT CURB FOR BREAKDOWNS AND EMERGENCY VEHICLES TO PASS. INSTEAD OF TWO OR THREE CARS ABREAST, THERE WERE FOUR, FIVE, AND SIX CARS ABREAST AT DIFFERENT PLACES. IT LOOKED LIKE SOME OF JAMES' OLD GAMES HE PLAYED WITH HIS "BEEP-BEEPS." WHEN WE FINALLY GOT ONTO THE INTERSTATE PROPER IT WASN EVEN WORSE.

TO BE HONEST THE SLOW PROGRESS DROVE ME NUTS. ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT, BESIDES ALREADY BEING LONELY FOR SISSY AND THE KIDS, WAS ABOUT HAVING TO DRIVE LIKE THAT THE WHOLE WAY TO THE HIGH SPRINGS EXIT. THE ONLY THING THAT MADE THAT TRIP BEARABLE WERE THE GAMES THAT ANGUS AND I CREATED. WE DEVELOPED A POINT SYSTEM FOR HOW FAR WE COULD PUSH CARS, POINTS FOR DIFFERENT KINDS OF CARS, POINTS FOR CARS WITH ZOMBIES IN THEM. THE INSANITY WAS THE ONLY THING KEEPING THE BOREDOM UNDER CONTROL.

SOMEONE HAD BEEN THROUGH LOOTING MOST OF THE VEHICLES. IN ADDITION TO ALL THE DAMAGE FROM WRECKS, STALLS, ROAD RAGE, AND ZOMBIE ATTACKS, LUGGAGE AND LOTS OF OTHER STUFF WAS FLUNG EVERY WHERE; SOME OF IT WAS IN NEAT PILES BUT MOST WAS NOT. THERE WAS EVEN STUFF UP IN THE TREES ON EITHER SIDE OF THE INTERSTATE. SOME LOON TP'D A COUPLE OF TREES WITH EVERY PAIR OF UNDERWEAR HE COULD FIND. THERE WERE YOUR TIDY WHITIES, TRADITIONAL BOXERS, GRANNY PANTIES, AND THEN A BUNCH OF THEM DAMN TRASHY THONGS LIKE THE HOOKERS DOWN ON NEBRASKA AVE USED TO LET HANG OUT THERE PANTS LIKE ADVERTISEMENT. I TOLD MY GIRLS IF I EVER CAUGHT THEM WEARING THOSE THINGS THEY WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO SIT DOWN FOR A COUPLE OF WEEKS.

DON'T KNOW WHY BUT I GOT SO MAD SEEING THOSE THINGS HANGING IN THE TREE THAT I DEVELOPED A LITTLE ROAD RAGE MYSELF AND JUST ABOUT HAD A DEATH GRIP ON MY REMINGTON SPR94. I FOUND THE GUN IN A HOUSE OVER IN LADARA AND THE FACT THAT IT IS BOTH A SHOTGUN AND A RIFLE IS A PLUS. MAYBE IT'S A LITTLE WEIRD. I KNOW SOME OF THE GUYS KINDA GAVE ME A LOOK FOR BRINGING IT, BUT I JUST HAVE A FEELING THAT BEING ABLE TO USE IT FOR BOTH SHORT RANGE AND LONG RANGE HUNTING OR PROTECTION WILL BE THE PLUS I NEED TO MAKE IT WORK.

WE CONTINUED INCHING ALONG THIS WAY FOR THREE HOURS. IN SOME PLACES IT LOOKED LIKE SOMEONE HAD ALREADY TRIED TO CLEAR LANES BUT THERE WAS NO CONSISTENCY TO IT. IF YOU COULD GO OFF ON THE GRASS THEY DIDN'T CLEAR LANES. WE ALL GOT TIRED OF WEAVING IN AND OUT AND EVENTUALLY WE JUST PLOWED THROUGH AS MUCH AS WE DARED. SOME OF THE CARS YOU COULD TELL HAD BEEN STRIPPED FOR PARTS. THERE WERE A LOT OF CARS WITHOUT TIRES ESPECIALLY. WHEN WE FIRST NOTICED, WE PUT IT DOWN TO LOCAL SCAVENGERS AND SMALL COMMUNITY SURVIVOR GROUPS. THAT MAY HAVE BEEN SOME OF IT, BUT IT WASN'T UNTIL WE RAN INTO THOSE PEOPLE AT THE WEBSTER OFF RAMP THAT WE FOUND OUT WHERE THE MAJORITY OF THE DAMAGE HAD COME FROM.

NORMALLY IT TAKES 45 MINUTES FROM OUR FRONT DOOR TO REACH THE WEBSTER EXIT. I KNOW THIS BECAUSE SISSY ENJOYED GOING TO THE BIG WEBSTER FLEA MARKET A COUPLE OF TIMES A YEAR. THOSE TIMES I DIDN'T GO WITH HER SHE WOULD CALL ME AS SHE WAS GETTING OFF THE INTERSTATE AND THEN AGAIN WHEN SHE GOT TO THE FLEA MARKET ITSELF; I KNEW TO THE MINUTE HOW LONG IT SHOULD TAKE. EVEN IF YOU ADD IN THE FIFTEEN MINUTES IT TOOK AT THE ON RAMP BACK IN TAMPA IT STILL TOOK US THREE TIMES LONGER TO GET TO THAT POINT THAN IT SHOULD HAVE. OUR TOP RATE OF SPEED NEVER GOT OVER 30 MPH AND USUALLY IT RAN BETWEEN 15 AND 25 MPH.

THOSE PEOPLE BLOCKING THE INTERESTATE WERE VERY NERVOUS. THEY WERE ALSO ANGRY. EVERY ONE OF THEM LOOKED LIKE THEY HAD SOME SORT OF INJURY THEY WERE FAVORING WHICH DIDN'T MAKE US FEEL REAL COMFORTABLE.

THE ONLY THING THAT SAVED US FROM HAVING A SHOOT OUT WAS ANGUS AND THOSE CRAZY DOGS OF HIS. HE TALKS TO THEM AND DAMN IF IT DOESN'T SOUND LIKE THEY TALK BACK.

YOU DON'T MESS WITH PEOPLE THAT HAVE A ROCKET LAUNCHER AIMED AT YOU. THEY TOLD US TO EXIT OUR VEHICLES AND THAT'S WHAT WE DID. I DIDN'T LIKE THE CHIP ON THEIR SHOULDER AS SOON AS THE GUY IN CHARGE STARTED RUNNING HIS MOUTH ABOUT US BEING RAIDERS OR ROAD PIRATES; AND THAT'S THE MOST POLITE THING THEY CALLED US. DIX TRIED TO EXPLAIN THAT WE WEREN'T RAIDERS OR ANYTHING AND JUST WANTED TO PASS AND KEEP HEADING NORTH. NO MATTER WHAT WE SAID THINGS KEPT DETERIORATING.

OUT OF THE BLUE ANGUS STARTS TALKING TO THE DOGS.

HE LOOKED AT THEM AND SAID, "DO YOU MIND? YOU ARE NOT PART OF THIS DISCUSSION." LIKE THE DOGS HAD BEEN TRYING TO BUTT IN OR SOMETHING.

THE FUNNY THING WAS THAT MISCHIEF "REPLIED" WITH SOME DOGGIE WHINES AND GRUNTS.

"NO, I'M SORRY. WHEN YOUR OPINION IS WANTED WE'LL ASK FOR IT."

THEN BOTH DOGS STARTED "TALKING" BACK.

BY THAT TIME ALL THE FOLKS ON THE WEBSTER SIDE HAD GOTTEN REAL QUIET AND ALL OF US WERE LOOKING AT ANGUS LIKE HE'D FINALLY LOST HIS MIND.

"EXCUSE ME. I'M NOT GONNA PUT UP WITH SASS FROM YOU TWO. BEHAVE OR GET BACK IN THE CAB."

AS ANGUS REFOCUSED ON US HUMANS, MAYHEM PASSED DOGGIE GAS. I MEAN HE PASSED IT LIKE HE HAD EATEN A #10 CAN OF HOT CHILI WITH BEANS KIND OF GAS.

THE LOOK ON ANGUS' FACE CANNOT BE DESCRIBED. "MY GAWD. IF YOU'RE GONNA BE THAT KIND OF SMART ASS YOU CAN JUST RIDE IN THE DAMN TRAILER!"

I STILL DON'T KNOW HOW HE DID IT BUT BY THAT TIME WE WERE ALL PRACTICALLY ON THE GROUND AND HOWLING. THE SITUATION HAD BEEN COMPLETELY DEFUSED. I'VE SEEN HIM PULL THE SAME KIND THING IN SANCTUARY BUT SISSY YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN IT. IT'S SOMETHING WE CAN TELL OUR GRANDKIDS ABOUT; A CRAZY MAN SAVING THE DAY. THAT WASN'T THE FIRST TIME WE WOUND UP OWING OUR LIVES TO ANGUS ON THIS TRIP EITHER.

AS FOR THE WEBSTER FOLKS, SEEMS THEY HAD REASON TO BE SUSPICIOUS. EVER SINCE LAW AND ORDER BROKE DOWN THEY'VE HAD TROUBLE WITH A LOT OF CRIME THAT EVENTUALLY COALESCED IN THE FORM OF GANGS. THE GANGS OFF THE ROAD THEY CALL RAIDERS. THE RAIDERS THAT USE THE INTERSTATE AND HIGHWAY SYSTEM THEY CALL ROAD PIRATES. BETWEEN THE ZOMBIES AND THE RAIDER GROUPS THE LOSS OF LIFE IN THEIR COMMUNITY HAS BEEN PRETTY SUBSTANTIAL. WE TOLD THEM ABOUT THE RADIO CHANNEL THAT WE WERE TRYING TO GET GOING SO THAT SURVIVOR GROUPS COULD KEEP IN CONTACT WITH ONE ANOTHER BUT I DON'T KNOW IF THEYARE GOING TO BE RECEPTIVE TO IT IN THE LONG RUN OR NOT. WE LEFT THEM A FLYER ANYWAY JUST LIKE ALL THE OTHER FLYERS WE'D BEEN HANGING EVERY COUPLE OF MILES.

THEY SAID IT HAD BEEN UNUSUALLY QUIET LATELY AND THAT IT HAD BEEN TWO WEEKS SINCE THE LAST INCURSION BY THE RAIDERS. THEY THOUGHT IT WAS MAYBE THAT THE RAIDERS HAD HEARD ABOUT THEIR ROCKET LAUNCHER. DIX THOUGHT IT WAS MORE LIKELY THAT THE RAIDERS WERE SIMPLY OCCUPIED ELSEWHERE.

DIX TURNED OUT TO BE RIGHT THAT TIME. ANOTHER HOUR AND A HALF DOWN THE ROAD WE FINALLY MADE IT TO THE BIG WILDWOOD TRUCK STOP AREA. COMING FROM THE SOUTH YOU CAN'T SEE WILDWOOD UNTIL YOU ARE RIGHT UP ON IT. ABOUT A MILE BACK THE FLIES STARTED GETTING REALLY BAD. WE'VE ALREADY ENCOUNTERED THAT PROBLEM IN TAMPA SO WE KNEW WE WOULD BE DEALING WITH A LOT OF CORPES. THE QUESTION WAS WHETHER THE CORPSES WERE GOING TO BE NRS INFECTED OR PERMANENTLY DEAD. YOU HAVEN'T SEEN GROSS UNTIL YOU'VE SEEN A ZOMBIE THAT IS WALKING AROUND WHILE INFESTED WITH FLESH EATING MAGGOTS.

WE CAME AROUND THE BEND AND THE SMELL WAS GOD AWFUL; WE COULD SEE BODIES AND PARTS OF BODIES LYING BLOATED AND DECAYING EVERYWHERE. THE SOUND OF THE FLIES WAS CONSTANT AND REMINDED ME OF THE AIRPORT ON A BUSY DAY. WE STILL DIDN'T KNOW WHETHER THEY WERE DEAD OR MADE DEAD, BUT THE LURE OF THE FUEL SUPPLIES WAS TOO MUCH FOR US TO IGNORE. WE SLOWLY AND GINGERLY PULLED OFF THE INTERSTATE THAT WAS AMAZINGLY FREE OF ANY KIND OF ROADBLOCKS AT THAT POINT.

WE PULLED INTO THE LEAST CONGESTED REFUELING STATION. ANGUS KEPT JUICER RUNNING AND I WRAPPED A BANDANA AROUND MY NOSE AND MOUTH THEN ROLLED OUT AND OVER TO THE AVALANCHE TO SEE WHAT DIXON WANTED TO DO. SOME IDIOT CRAWLING OUT OF THE RUBBLE NEARLY DIED WHEN HE DIDN'T GIVE US ANY WARNING. I STOPPED THE SHOT JUST IN TIME AND DIXON, THE FASTER MARKSMAN, WAS ABLE TO PULL HIS SHOT WIDE OF THE MARK OTHERWISE WE WOULD HAVE BOTH PUT A BULLET IN HIM.

IN TOTAL THERE ARE SIX SURVIVORS, OR WERE SIX AS I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY ARE LEFT NOW, LIVING IN THE DEBRIS LEFT BEHIND BY RAIDERS AND A LARGE ZOMBIE HORDE. SISSY SAYS THAT SHE'S ALREADY WRITTEN DOWN WHAT I TOLD HER ABOUT THIS AREA SO I WON'T REPEAT IT EXCEPT TO SAY THOSE FOOLS WERE PATHETIC. THEY WERE DOING NOTHING TO HELP THEMSELVES. THEY HAD UNIMAGINABLE RICHES JUST LAYING AROUND; THE FUEL, THE FOOD, THE GUNS AND AMMO LEFT BEHIND BY THE RAIDERS. WE TRIED TO PICK SOME OF THE WEAPONS UP AND PUT THEM IN THEIR HANDS BUT THEY WANTED NOTHING TO DO WITH THEM. THEY WERE TOO SCARED TO EVEN DEFEND THEMSELVES. IDIOTS; PACIFISTS AND THE INTENTIONALLY HELPLESS WON'T SURVIVE THESE DAYS. YOU DON'T NEED TO BE A BULLY, BUT YOU CAN'T EXPECT PEOPLE TO TREAT YOU WITH RESPECT IF YOU WON'T DO ANYTHING TO EARN IT EITHER.

WE GRABBED SOME GAS AND SOME GUNS THAT WERE LYING ABOUT. I'LL ADMIT MOST EVERYTHING WAS MUCKED UP IN SOME WAY BUT SOME STUFF WAS SALVAGEABLE. MY GUESS IS IF THOSE PEOPLE HAVEN'T GOTTEN OVER THEIR POST TRAUMATIC SHOCK OR WHATEVER IT IS GOING ON WITH THEM THEN THEY ARE TOAST. NO OTHER WAY TO PRETTY IT UP. MORE THAN LIKELY THEY HAVE ALL BECOME ZOMBIE CHOW. I WAS ANGRY THEN AND I STILL GET ANGRY THINKING ABOUT IT NOW. NO ONE CAN AFFORD TO HELP A PERSON THT WON'T PARTICIPATE IN THEIR OWN RESCUE. FAILING TO AT LEAST TRY AND HELP YOURSELF IS CRIMINAL.

WHAT IS REALLY BAD IS THAT THOSE SIX, AS BAD A SHAPE AS THEY WERE IN, WERE THE LAST LIVE PEOPLE WE SAW THAT DAY. WE CONTINUED HEADING NORTH, STILL WEAVING IN AND OUT OF TRAFFIC OR JUST SHOVING THROUGH BUT NEVER HAVING AN EASY TIME OF IT. ABOUT THE TIME WE PASSED THE MICANOPY EXIT THINGS STARTED GETTING EERIE. I MEAN ALL ANIMAL SOUNDS WERE GONE. ANGUS' TRUCK IS NOISY, BUT WHEN IDLING YOU CAN STILL HEAR STUFF. THERE JUST WASN'T ANYTHING OUT THERE; LIKE THE HAND OF GOD HAD COME DOWN AND SNUFFED ALL LIFE RIGHT OUT.

WE HAD MAINTAINED RADIO SILENCE AS MUCH AS WE COULD JUST TO BE ON THE SAFE SIDE. IN THAT LOCATION THOUGH IT WAS JUST TOO FREAKY TO GET OUT OF OUR VEHICLES. WE SLOWED DOWN TO A CRAWL, SOME DUE TO TRAFFIC AND SOME DUE TO THE FACT THAT IT FELT LIKE SOMETHING WAS ABOUT TO JUMP UP OUT OF THE BUSHES AT US AT ANY SECOND.

WE GOT TO A REASONABLY CLEAR SECTION AND PULLED OVER. WE LEFT THE VEHICLES RUNNING; WE WEREN'T STUPID. THE BRUSH OUT ON PAYNE'S PRAIRIE MOVED LIKE IT HAD NO WIND I HAD EVER SEEN RIPPLING THROUGH IT. UNNATURAL ANIMAL SOUNDS ALSO COULD NOW BE HEARD FROM JUST ABOUT EVERY DIRECTION. WHEN WE HEARD THE DAMN LION ROARING THOUGH, THAT IS WHEN WE DECIDED IT WAS TIME TO GET OUR BUTTS BACK IN THE CABS AND GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE. I WON'T GO THAT WAY AGAIN IF THERE IS ANY WAY AROUND IT. WHATEVER HAS INHERITED THE PRAIRIE AND MADE IT HOME ISN'T ANYTHING I WANT TO MEET UP WITH.

WE GOT OFF THE INTERSTATE AT THE FIRST GAINESVILLE EXIT WHICH IS 331. IT LOOKED LIKE A WAR ZONE. EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK THERE ARE BURNED OUT BUILDINGS, BURNED OUT CARS, BROKEN WINDOWS THOUGH SOMEONE DID TRY AND BOARD SOME OF THEM UP AT SOME POINT; EVEN THE ROADS LOOK LIKE THEY HAD BEEN BLOWN UP IN PLACES. WE CIRCUMNAVIGATED THE WHOLE CITY AND IT WAS ALL LIKE THAT, INCLUDING THE CAMPUS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA. THAT PLACE WAS NEARLYAS BAD AS PAYNE'S PRAIRIE. WE NEVER SAW A SINGLE LIVING SOUL THOUGH THERE MIGHT HAVE BEEN SOME PEOPLE IN ONE OF THE CAMPUS BUILDINGS. IT COULD JUST AS EASILY HAVE BEEN ZOMBIES THAT WERE STUCK INSIDE. NONE OF US WANTED TO FIND OUT THOUGH WE HUNG UP THE REQUISITE FLYERS IN VAIN HOPE.

WE DECIDED TO GET OUT OF DODGE AND HEAD BACK TO THE INTERSTATE ON 222. AS WE PASSED DEVIL'S MILLHOPPER GEOLOGIC PARK SOME SOUND COMING OUT OF THERE CAUGHT OUR EARS. AFTER A BRIEF CONSULTATION WE PULLED INTO THE PARKING LOT AND SLOWLY WALKED THE BOARDWALK LOOKING FOR THE CAUSE OF THE HUMAN VOICES WE KEPT HEARING AT ODD INTERVALS. IT WAS COMING FROM THE SINKHOLE AREA AND WE EASED OUR WAY OVER TO CHECK IT OUT.

THE SIGHT THAT MET MY EYES WHEN I FINALLY FIGURED OUT WHAT I WAS LOOKING AT WAS ALMOST TOO MUCH. TOUGH OL' MCELROY HAD FINALLY FOUND SOMETHING THAT MADE HIM TOSS HIS COOKIES. THE REST OF US WEREN'T TOO MUCH FROM FOLLOWING HIM.

IT WAS A YOUNG GIRL, OR WHAT USED TO BE A GIRL. SHE … IT … WAS IMPALED ON A PIECE OF BROKEN BOARDWALK ABOUT HALF WAY DOWN INTO THE SINKHOLE NATURE TRAIL. SHE HAD ONE OF THOSE SOLIO SOLAR CHARGERS HOOKED UP TO HER IPOD. THE SOUND SHOULD HAVE BEEN BARELY AUDIBLE BUT WAS SOMEHOW AMPLIFIED BY THE ACOUSTICS OF THE SINKHOLE. IT WAS LIKE WATCHING A BUG STUCK ON A PIN. HER LEGS AND ARMS, CLAD IN WHAT MUST HAVE BEEN A BRIGHT YELLOW T-SHIRT AND SHORTS AT ONE TIME, MOVED IN AN ODD SEMBLANCE OF TAPING TO THE BEAT OF THE MUSIC. I FINALLY PULLED MYSELF AWAY AND SAID A QUICK PRAYER THAT I'LL NEVER HAVE TO SEE MY KIDS LIKE THAT. I'LL RIP MY OWN EYES OUT FIRST.

WE ALL QUICKLY RETURNED TO THE VEHICLES THOROUGHLY DEPRESSED. WHY IS IT YOU CAN LOOK AT ZOMBIE AFTER ZOMBIE, SOME OF THEM HORRORIFICALLY DISFIGURED WITH NO REACTION; BUT THEN SOME ZOMBIES WILL JUST KICK YOU IN THE GUT EMOTIONALLY AND PSYCHOLOGICALLY?

IT WAS GETTING LATE BY THAT TIME, TOO LATE TO GET AWAY FROM THE HELL ON EARTH THAT GAINESVILLE HAD BECOME. LATE ENOUGH THAT WE STARTED TO WORRY THAT WE WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO FIND A DEFENSIBLE POSITION TO HOLE UP FOR THE NIGHT. WE STOPPED AT THREE PLACES BEFORE RUNNING ACROSS A D.O.T. SHED THAT WAS JUST EAST OF THE INTERSTATE ITSELF. IT WAS MADE OF CONCRETE BLOCK AND HAD HEAVY ROLL DOWNS ON BAYS RATHER THAN REGULAR WINDOWS AND DOORS. WE EVEN FOUND A FUEL PUMP BEHIND THE SHED THAT HAD BEEN OVERLOOKED BY LOOTERS.

THAT'S WHERE WE STAYED THE NIGHT. BUT FRANKLY I DON'T THINK ANY OF US WOULD HAVE SLEPT AT ALL IF WE HADN'T BEEN SO TIRED.


	89. Day 134

**Day 134 (Tuesday)**

After reading Scott's first submission for my journal I have a feeling I'm going to find out things that happened on the North Florida Run that maybe I would prefer not to know. Oh well, I asked for it. And besides Scott is home and that is all that counts at the moment.

Actually Scott and Jim were gone off and on most of the day. They were helping Angus get set up. When they weren't over there, they were working with the crews that have begun to bring down all of the wooden telephone poles that can be found within a decent radius of Sanctuary. Everyone still has the hole-digging saboteurs on their mind. Every morning and night we walk the entire perimeter to make sure that no one else has been interfering with the Wall. I spent a lot of time today raking debris away from the bottom edge so that we can tell if anyone has disturbed things. Eventually we'll hook a drag or something similar behind the tow truck and keep a firebreak that is all dirt.

Besides that, I mended a couple of shirts, went over the garden and groves for anything ready to harvest, and I went through a couple of more boxes and bags from my parents' stuff. I found all my mom's dried beans that she packed into her old half gallon and gallon-sized canning jars. At least I think I found them all. The way my brother packed things into the trailer didn't have any kind of organization to it at all. I remember seeing those jars full of tomato juice in my grandmother's fruit house. Amazing the memories of childhood that stick with you. I also remember that blasted rooster that used to guard the fruit house like he was a battalion commander or something. I still have a scar in the top of my head where he attacked me one time.

I'll keep some of the beans but most of them will go into Sanctuary's supplies. I'm also keeping some to see if I can get them to germinate. The end of this month most of the bush beans should be dried on their vines and I'll pull them and winnow the beans, adding another supply of long term storage food that we badly need. I'm anxious for the garbanzo beans to make especially since we don't have that many left. For those that don't know what a garbanzo bean is, it's just a chick pea.

A thought ran across my head last night and it's been eating at me. What happens if we can't keep all of the different species of food plants going? I mean, what if we have a failure one year of say our dent corn variety? It's not like we can just go out and find a new supplier. We are it. Same with the different squashes, beans, and all the other vegetables and fruits. Will we lose varieties as times go by so that in a couple of years or so we are down to one type of each ... or maybe none at all because they all got some kind of plant disease? That really worries me. It's just one more reason why getting a trade route opened up is going to be important. Information is the big thing, but there are a lot of other practical reasons behind it as well.

This Saturday I intend on trying something new with beans. I found a recipe while looking through one of my mother's cookbooks. The book must have been a gift from a friend because it isn't one I recognize. The recipe is called Spicy Bean Bread. We've already had to start finding ways to extend our wheat flour. In addition to the pallet of 50 lbs. bags of flour we still have I have a couple of barrels of whole wheat but that won't last but a couple of more months at the rate it takes to feed nearly 50 people. After that we'll be down to growing dent corn for cornmeal, assuming we can pull that off. The more options we have the better. I know a little north of here by a county they can grow winter rye but I'm not sure if it will make seed around here. We mostly use it for making grass during the winter months. I supposed I can plant a patch now and see how well it does. I've got a boatload of soybeans that I can grind for soy flour but that needs other flours to make bread, same with rice flour and potato flour. Bean flour and acorn flour I already know how to make. I think, but I'm not sure, that we may be able to grow millet around here. Again, that's an experiment that needs to be done. We are already doing lots of experimenting, trying to find replacements for things we used to take for granted.

Patricia and Rhonda, our two pregnant ladies, are getting along really well. I'm glad. There is almost 15 years of age difference between them but their common experience bridges that. Rachel, whatever her personal feelings, continues to be the supreme professional when it comes to their medical care. If I never say another word about her I'll always respect her for that. I haven't talked to Rachel today. I haven't had time. She worries me a bit, maybe because she, Patricia, and I share both the best and worst personality characteristics I see her having a really hard time adjusting to whatever is going on between her and Dix. I haven't a clue how Patricia dealt with Dix's idiocyncrasies over the years; I would have beaned him with a skillet a long time ago. Scott can be mule-headed and testosterone driven but he's also got some depth to him. Dix strikes me as the kind of man who doesn't realize he has depths until middle age ... maybe that's the problem. He's going through his own adjustment reaction.

Tonight over dinner everyone was discussing all of the projects, building and otherwise, that need to be worked on here in Sanctuary. The list is depressingly long though not all of the projects are necessities. Scott said he needs to get things prioritized so that we can get them on the chore calendars. After a relatively short debate it was agreed unanimously that we need to get the "skin" of telephone poles on the outside of the Wall. It's going to be a huge undertaking and will likely take weeks to complete. Not only that, but we will probably have to pull those poles down from all over town to get enough for our purposes.

That job begins tomorrow with the poles that were pulled down today. While Scott guides the team installing the poles, McElroy will take charge of the team who will gather the next day's supply of poles. If that team can stay a day or two ahead of the installers there should be less down time to slow the project up.

The bad thing about this will be that most of the adult men will be needed to work both crews. It will be up to the women and children to keep our regular chore schedule going. Matlock and Dixon both agree that James will temporarily be put in charge of guard duty rotations for the boys. To rotate shifts he has himself, Samuel, Bo and Tom who are still too young for single watches so they team up, Marty, and Clark Morris. Marty has begun to settle down and is reliable as long as he has specific and firm instructions. James says Clark is nearly 16 and is also good as a bow hunter. He's promised to show James how to hunt big game with a compound bow. Maybe sooner rather than later. We heard some elk bugaling in the area this morning.

We women will fill in the rest of the slots and some of the adult men will take supper watch and pre-breakfast watch that way, barring any emergencies, they should be able to have at least six hours uninterrupted sleep so that they can work hard all day.

I hope simultaneously that they are able to finish some of the roofs on the guard towers as well as build the new one at the obtuse bend in the Wall. The tarps won't last forever and we've had some wind the last couple of days too that caused some flapping and ripping.

I worry when it gets windy like this. In the summer I'd say tropical weather was on its way. In the winter it could presage a cold front. But I like the winter winds least. It's not the possible cold so much as it is the drying effect the wind has on everything. The lower humidity is nice as is speed up on the clothes line but when we haven't had any rain this is also known as wildfire weather. Every once in a while I am startled to catch a whiff of smoke on the wind. I haven't seen any smoke but I just know I've smelled it. Scott mentioned today that Angus had said the same thing. Green grass has sprung up all through the Big Fire's path but that doesn't mean fire won't go through there again. There is still plenty of trash to re-ignite if the fire is hot enough.

You know, for the most part we do pretty well as a group here in Sanctuary but there are some things that other residents do that make me scratch my head. When the wood stove was put together I know that I specifically said that no one could burn green wood or wood with a high sap content like cedar or pine in it. I know I said it. I told them about the danger of creosote build up that could result in reduced efficiency, smoke, and bad fires. I explained it was the same thing as with indoor fireplaces. You just can't do some things no matter how much work you think you are saving. We're just plain lucky that Betty caught the problem before it turned into something worse.

Someone has been burning pine to get the fire started in the combustion champer. I know only a little has been burned but that little bit had already coated the inside of the fire box and grate as well as the stove pipes. We had to take the whole thing apart and clean the creosote and ash out of it. I was saving the ash too to make lye and now I'll have to start all over again. I tried hard not to be irritated 'cause nobody is perfect but just to make sure everyone remembers I made sure that it was all of us cooks that did that bit of heavy labor. We are also out the use of the stove until tomorrow because a couple of the pieces had to be boiled in a 50/50 solution of water and white vinegar and they have to set overnight before we can use them again. I also made a sign that said "no pine or cedar in the wood box" which should help folks remember as well. We've had fun cooking over an open fire again and this wind made it tricky at best. Some of the food had a fine layer of ash for seasoning. We caught some comments from the men on that.

That whole mess brought up that the only thing against putting that skin of wooden poles on the outside of the Wall is fire danger. Luckily Scott thinks he knows where we can get some fire retardant chemicals that we can paint or spray on the logs. It's the same type of chemical that is used on wood siding and wood shingles here in Florida. Bonus points if we can find the high-end version because that is also mold and termite resistant and lasts up to 10 years. Scott says it only takes one coat and that a gallon covers 125 square feet. At that rate we better find a lot of it; but at least we don't have to worry about the price; chuckle, chuckle.

The citrus harvest is getting ahead of me. I've still got some tangerines on the trees and J. Paul said he found several loaded tangerine trees three blocks to our east in someone's back yard. Being from north Florida he isn't used to being able to pull citrus straight from the tree. I told him to go ahead and take the napsack full that he had brought back so his family could eat their fill. Tomorrow I'll take the cart over there with the wagon attached and bring back several bushels, juice them, and then can the juice. I might dry some of the peel but most of it will go into compost. I'm loving that little barrel composter that James made for me. I wish he had time to make several. He said he will but I haven't got a clue when he will find the time to do it.

The oranges and tangelos are starting to come in like gangbusters as well. As I have the opportunity I'll pull oranges from trees outside the Wall and preserve them in some way. I'll leave what I can on the trees inside the Wall and we'll probably be drinking orange juice at every meal until June or July. The end of this month we also have the white, pink, and ruby red grapefruits coming in. The temples and valencias won't be ready until March, which is fine by me.

I'd like to try and take advantage of such abundance while we have it. After the grapefruit come in I plan on having grilled grapefruit for breakfast at least once a week. Of course the citrus will be added to our regular fruit salad bowl at lunch. I'm also using the citrus juice to make different flavors of salad dressings like Orange-Honey French and Cooked Citrus Dressing. But there is the Sun Belt Lasagna recipe that Mr. Morris gave me that he said his wife one first place at the county fair with. I'm also thinking of making Citrus Ham Balls by grinding up some of the canned hams we have. And you can really jazz up veggies using citrus like the Squash in Orange Cream Sauce we had tonight at dinner. I had to make the sour cream from canned milk but you couldn't tell the difference. In the morning I am fixing Orange Cinnamon Toast for breakfast. If I don't watch it folks might get tired of the citrus before it is gone. Its going to be feast or famine from here on out I'm afraid.

We've heard from the Tarpon Springs group. They need a part for a boat but can't find it in their area. It is for one of the larger shrimp or crab boats. They think that it is available over in the Port of Tampa. If we can get the part and meet them half way then they'll trade us some fresh sea food. It means a dangerous trip back over the Port area and it will also mean delays on completing the Wall, but the amount of seafood they are talking about as trade would make a huge meal and leave us some to can for later. That's assuming we can find the part. Jim, who is familiar with boat engines and also intimately familiar with the lay out of the Port says that he is willing to go to the Port and then transport the part to Tarpon Springs. I think he has been looking for a way to contribute besides teaching the kids how to take care of the Ostrich. He's a nice man, but I can tell he's been itching for some action. I don't think he is all that used to a tame life.

And with that I'm done for the night. I'll stick Scott's next installment here. I was right, there are a few things about the North Florida Run that I was more comfortable not knowing.

SCOTT'S NARRATION OF THE NORTH FLORIDA RUN  
Part Two

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 2ND, WAS OUR FIRST FULL DAY ON THE ROAD. BASICALLY THE DAY SUCKED FROM BEGINNING TO END WITH ONLY A MINOR BREAK FROM THE SUCKFEST AROUND LUNCHTIME.

FIRST THING IN THE MORNING WE HAD TO SHOOT OUR WAY OUT OF GAINESVILLE. I DON'T KNOW WHAT DRIVES THE ZOMBIES TO BE LIKE THEY ARE. ALL I KNOW IS THAT THEY CAN BE A PAIN IN THE BUTT. THEY ARE ALWAYS MUCKING UP THE BEST LAID PLANS.

ABOUT 3AM THE DOGS WOKE US UP WITH THEIR DAMN COLD NOSES. A COLD NOSE ON THE BACK OF THE NECK WILL WAKE THE DEAD OUT OF A DEEP SLEEP. IT WAS TOO DARK TO SEE FOR SURE BUT FROM THE SOUND OF ALL THE SHUFFLING AND SCRAPING WE NEEDED AN NRS EXTERMINATION TEAM BADLY. THERE WAS NO WAY TO RELAX ENOUGH TO GO BACK TO SLEEP SO WE SAT AROUND IN THE DARK TRYING TO BE AS QUIET AS POSSIBLE. SUNRISE REVEALED THE TAILEND OF WHAT MUST HAVE BEEN A VERY LARGE ZOMBIE HORDE HEADING EAST. GOD HELP ANYONE IN THEIR WAY.

WHAT DRIVES THEM TO MOVE IN CONCERT LIKE SCHOOLS OF FISH? WE STILL DON'T KNOW FOR SURE BUT TOWARDS THE END OF THE TRIP WE MAY HAVE FOUND PART OF THE PUZZLE.

THE HORDE FINALLY PASSED BUT IT LEFT A LARGE NUMBER OF STRAGGLERS BEHIND. YOU NEVER TURN YOU BACK ON A ZOMBIE. IT DOESN'T MATTER WHETHER IT IS PART OF A HUGE HORDE, IN A GROUP OF STRAGGLERS, OR JUST OFF ON ITS OWN. WHETHER A ZOMBIE IS ONE OF MANY OR ONE ALONE IT CAN STILL MAKE YOU JUST AS DEAD. SOMETIMES THE STRAGGLRERS AND SINGLES CAN BE THE WORST. AFTER DEALING WITH A HORDE YOU CAN UNDERESTIMATE THEIR DANGER.

WE'VE LEARNED THE HARD WAY THAT THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A HARMLESS ZOMBIE OR AN EASY KILL. WE TREATED THESE STRAGGLERS LIKE WE WOULD NUCLEAR WASTE; KEEP AS MUCH DISTANCE BETWEEN US AND THEM AND THEN FOCUS ON CONTAINMENT AND NUETRALIZATION.

NORMALLY WE MIGHT HAVE KEPT TRACK OF WHO SHOT HOW MANY AND WITH WHAT WEAPON. WE COMPARE STATS TO SEE WHICH WEAPON IS WORKING BEST IN WHAT SITUATION. I CAN TELL RIGHT NOW THAT MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT A DIFFERENT WEAPON WITH ME. I'M NOT ALL THAT FAMILIAR WITH THE SPR94 AND RELOADING IS A PAIN WHEN YOU ARE DEALING WITH MULTIPLE TARGETS. I'M JUST NOT AS FAST AS THE REST OF THE GUYS ARE, THOUGH I'M A HELL OF A LOT FASTER THAN I USED TO BE. ACCURACY IS GREAT; JUST NEED TO WORK ON THE RELOADING ISSUE, TWO SHOTS – ONE RIFLE, ONE SHOTGUN – AND THEN I HAVE TO STOP AND TAKE TIME I MIGHT NOT HAVE. I THINK THE GUN WILL BE A LOT HANDIER FOR HUNTING THAN FOR ZED DEFENSE. I THOUGHT TO MYSELF, "I'LL GIVE IT MORE TIME TO SEE BUT IF WE PASS ANY MORE PAWNSHOPS ALONG THE WAY I MIGHT WANT TO TRY AND PICK UP ANOTHER WEAPON."

WE FINALLY GOT CLEAR AND EASED BACK UP ONTO THE INTERSTATE. NONE OF US WERE IN THE MOOD TO DEAL WITH THE GRIDLOCK. JAMES IS … WAS … A GATOR FAN AND THOUGHT ABOUT GOING TO UF FOR COLLEGE. IT WAS DEPRESSING TO THINK ON ALL THAT HE WOULD NOW MISS BECAUSE OF NRS. I GRABBED A COUPLE OF PENNANTS THAT HAD BEEN LYING AROUND IN THE D.O.T. SHED BUT SEEING ALL OF THE DEAD KIDS IN THE CARS ON THE INTERESTATE AND ALL THE ZOMBIES AROUND HERE WITH GATOR COLORS ON MADE ME RETHINK WHETHER I WOULD GIVE THEM TO HIM OR NOT. THEY ARE STILL IN JUICER UNDER THE SEAT.

THE INTERSTATE WAS SO BAD HEADING NORTH OUT OF GAINESVILLE THAT WE NEARLY GOT BLOCKED IN AND COULDN'T MOVE. WE HAD TO BACK TRACK, DRIVING BACKWARDS, TO A PLACE WE COULD CROSS THE INTERSTATE TO THE OTHER SIDE. AFTER STOPPING FOR A CONSULTATION WE DECIDED THAT WE NEEDED OFF THE INTERSTATE AND WE NEEDED OFF RIGHT THEN, IF FOR NO OTHER REASON THAN OUR NERVES.

WE HEADED BACK SOUTH A BIT AND PICKED UP SR26 THINKING WE WOULD TAKE IT WEST TO US27 AND THEN GO NORTH INTO ALACHUA FROM THERE. ONCE WE WERE OFF THE INTERSTATE WE MADE BETTER TIME; NOT GREAT TIME, BUT BETTER. EVERYONE AND THEIR MOTHER MUST HAVE TRIED TO ESCAPE FROM ONE PLACE TO ANOTHER ONCE THE STATE-WIDE QUARANTINE WENT INTO EFFECT. NO PLACE WITHIN MILES OF THE INTERSTATE WAS SAFE. IN ADDITION TO THEIR OWN POPULATION DENSITY, TOWNS ALONG THE ROADWAYS HAD TO DEAL WITH THE MOBS LEAVING THE BIG CITIES. SOMETIMES I WONDER IF THAT IS WHY WE DON'T HAVE AS MANY ZOMBIES AS EXPECTED DOWN IN TAMPA. YOU GET ENOUGH LEAVING TOWN, THE CITIES WIND UP BEING EMPTIER THAN THE RURAL AREAS. IT MUST HAVE BEEN A FREAKING NIGHTMARE AT ANY BORDER TOWN ALONG THE STATE LINE.

WHEN WE GOT TO THE INTERSECTION OF SR26 AND US27 WE CHANGED PLANS AGAIN. IF ALACHUA WASN'T ANY BETTER THAN GAINESVILLE IT WAS JUST A WASTE OF FUEL AND TIME TO HEAD ANY FURTHER NORTH. IT WAS SHORTER TO GET TO TRENTON AT THAT POINT, AND THAT WAS ONLY ABOUT 10 MILES FROM SISSY'S PARENTS' PLACE. I WAS TRYING NOT TO THINK TOO MUCH ABOUT WHAT WE WOULD FIND WHEN WE FINALLY GOT THERE BUT SISSY NEEDED TO KNOW. HELL, I NEEDED TO KNOW. I KNOW I WAS PISSED AT SISSY FOR TRYING OVER AND OVER WITH THE DAMN CELL PHONE. I FEEL BAD FOR IT AND I HOPE READING THIS SHE UNDERSTANDS THAT I WAS NEVER ANGRY AT HER BUT AT THE HOPELESS FEELINGS I HAD AND AT HOW MUCH I KNEW SHE WAS HURTING.

WE WOUND UP PULLING OVER AND EATING LUNCH AND DOING A LITTLE DE FACTO BURGLARY AT A PAWNSHOP THAT SET BACK FROM THE ROAD A BIT. IT WAS ALL BOARDED UP WITH HURRICANE SHUTTERS AND IT TOOK US NEARLY A HALF HOUR TO BREAK IN. IN FACT, WE ONLY MADE IT IN BECAUSE ANGUS BUMPED THE SIDE OF THE BUILDING AND PUNCHED A HOLE IN THE EXTERIOR BLOCK WALL.

WAS LIKE A DAMN CANDY STORE IN THERE. IT HADN'T BEEN TOUCHED WHICH SAID TO ME MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE COULD THAT NEWBERRY HAD BEEN EMPTY A LONG, LONG TIME … MAYBE SINCE SEPTEMBER.

MCELROY WAS THE FIRST TO FIND HIM A NEW WEAPON. IT WAS A 9MM BERETTA. I GUESS HE WAS HAPPY WITH IT. HE WAS CUDDLING THE DAMN THING LIKE IT WAS A NEW GIRLFRIEND. DIXON FOUND ANOTHER COLT 1911 SO NOW HE HAS A SPARE. HE AND ANGUS WERE TALKING OVER THE PROS AND CONS OF THE GUN WHEN DIX SPOTTED SOMETHING AND CALLED ME OVER. HE WAS SMART AND DIDN'T TRY AND TALK ME OUT OF THE SPR94 BUT HE DID ASK ME TO GIVE THE AK47 HE FOUND A TRY. HE SAID IT ISN'T THE MOST ACCURATE GUN ON THE MARKET BUT SINCE YOU CAN SHOOT IT FAST THAT ISN'T MUCH OF A FACTOR AS LONG AS YOUR TARGET IS WITHIN 100 YARDS. SEVERAL TIMES I'VE FOUND THAT TO BE TRUE NOW. I STILL LIKE MY SPR94 BUT THE AK47 HAS A PLACE IN MY GEAR AS WELL. IT'S CERTAINLY EASY ENOUGH TO USE. ALONG WITH THE ASSAULT RIFLE WE DUG OUT SEVERAL MAGAZINES FOR IT; A COUPLE OF 30 ROUND MAGAZINES, A COUPLE OF 40 ROUND MAGAZINES, AND THEN A DRUM MAGAZINE THAT WILL HOLD 75 ROUNDS. SAVES ME TIME ON RELOADING THAT'S FOR CERTAIN. GUESS IT MEANS THAT THEY DIDN'T HAVE TO COVER FOR ME AS MUCH EITHER, I DIDN'T THINK OF THAT UNTIL LATER THOUGH.

WE LOADED UP ALL THE AMMO WE FOUND IN THE STORE, AND THERE WAS CONSIDERABLE. WHOEVER THE OWNER WAS, LIKELY HE WASN'T DEALING WITH JUST YOUR LEGAL STUFF. YOU TELL ME WHAT LEGAL PAWNSHOP OWNER KEEPS HONEST TO GOD HAND GRENADES AND BLOCKS OF C4 IN A CONCRETE BUNKER IN A BACK ROOM. HAD ANGUS TAPPED THE BUILDING ANY HARDER, WE MIGHT HAVE FLOWN BACK TO TAMPA WITH HEAVENLY WINGS. THERE WAS ALSO A BOX OF WHAT LOOKED LIKE LAND MINES. DIX WAS BREATHING HARD AFTER WE HAD PILED A BUNCH OF THE STUFF UP TO TAKE. DON'T KNOW IF HE WAS GETTING OFF ON IT OR NOT BUT I SURE AS HELL WASN'T TOO HAPPY KNOWING WHAT SOME OF THE STUFF I WAS SITTING ON WAS.

GRABBED SISSY A GUN FROM THERE TOO. NICE LITTLE RUGER LONG BARREL. MAYBE IF IT IS PRETTY SHE WON'T FORGET SHE HAS IT ON HER AND WILL ACTUALLY USE IT AND STOP RELYING ON THAT BLASTED MACHETE SHE LIKES TOO MUCH. I'D RATHER SHE STAY FURTHER AWAY FROM ANY ASSAILANT THAN AN ARM PLUS MACHETE LENGTH.

THERE WAS A LOT OF OTHER STUFF IN THE PAWNSHOP TOO BUT IT WASN'T WORTH THE HASSLE OF TAKING IT. WE'VE ALREADY GOT A NICE LITTLE STASH OF STUFF AT DRISCOLL'S SO THERE WASN'T ANY REASON FOR US TO GRAB THE JEWELRY AND COINS THAT WERE IN THE GLASS CASES, THEY'D ONLY WEIGH US DOWN. I DID POCKET A HANDFUL OF CAMEO PINS THAT WERE THERE FOR SISSY AND THE GIRLS. I WANTED SOME OF THE TOOLS I SAW, BUT AGAIN, WE'VE GOT THAT STUFF BACK IN SANCTUARY. THREW ALL THE KNIVES IN A COUPLE OF STORAGE TUBS THOUGH AND GOT THIS NIFTY LITTLE THING CALLED A SHOCK KNIFE. MCELROY SAID IT WAS A TRAINING TOOL CREATED IN CANADA. IT DELIVERS AN ELECTRIC SHOCK THAT SIMULATES THE PAIN OF AN ACTUAL KNIFE WOUND AND IS SUPPOSED TO CREATE THE SAME FIGHT OR FLIGHT RESPONSE WITHOUT CREATING AN ACTUAL WOUND. TO BE HONEST I HAVEN'T GOT A CLUE WHEN IT MIGHT GET SOME USE, BUT YOU NEVER KNOW. DOUBLE BONUS POINTS WHEN ANGUS FOUND A BIG SUPPLY OF BLACK POWDER AND RELOAD EQUIPMENT IN A LEAN-TO ATTACHED TO THE BACK OF THE BUILDING.

AFTER WE LOADED EVERYTHING WE REALLY DID NEED TO HEAD ON DOWN THE ROAD SO WE CONTINUED WEST ON SR26 TRYING TO GET TO HWY129. WE WERE ABOUT A MILE OUTSIDE OF TRENTON WHEN WE RAN ACROSS A BOOBY TRAP. SOME SHIT HAD LACED THE ROAD WITH NAILS. LUCKILY ANGUS WASN'T ON POINT. I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE WOULD HAVE DONE IF JUICER HAD GOTTEN FOUR FLATS. TOOK US AN HOUR TO SCAVENGE THE RIGHT TIRES AND GET THEM CHANGED ON THE AVALANCHE. OF COURSE TO GET IT DONE WE HAD TO UNLOAD IT. THE CHEVY ALREADY WEIGHS OVER 2.5 TONS AND IT WAS A BITCH TO GET THE TIRES CHANGED. I WASN'T THE ONLY ONE WITH BUSTED KNUCKLES.

WE SLOWED DOWN AFTER THAT AND IT WAS A GOOD THING TOO. RIGHT AT THE MAIN INTERSECTION IN TRENTION … THE TOWN ONLY HAS ONE TRAFFIC LIGHT … THERE WAS A ROADBLOCK MANNED BY HEAVILY ARMED HUMANS. THERE WERE ALL SORTS OF RELIGIOUS INSIGNIA ON FLAGS AND TIED TO POLES ALL AROUND THE ROADBLOCK. WE DIDN'T FIGURE IT WAS WORTH THE TROUBLE SO WE WERE BACKING UP TO DETOUR AROUND VIA A DIFFERENT ROUTE I KNEW WHEN THE CRAPHEADS OPENED FIRE ON US.

THE AVALANCHE BACKED UP ENOUGH SO THAT ANGUS COULD USE JUICER, WITH ITS HEAVIER METAL PLATING, TO GIVE COVER. THE BED OF THE TRUCK STILL GOT SHOT TO HELL AND WE ARE LUCKY THAT WE PUT ALL THE STUFF THAT GOES BOOM IN THE TRAILER BEHIND JUICER OTHERWISE EVERYONE WOULD HAVE GOTTEN A BIG SURPRISE. NEXT TIME WE GO ON A RUN I'M TAKING A ARMORED VEHICLE, MAYBE A SOOPED UP WELLS FARGO TRUCK OR SOMETHING.

AND AS IF THINGS COULDN'T GET MORE COMPLICATED, ABOUT THAT TIME A SMALL HORDE OF ZOMBIES WALKED INTO THE INTERSECTION FROM THE TREE LINE TO THE SW. THE PEOPLE AT THE INTERSECTION WERE GOING TO BE ZOMBIE CHOW. THERE WERE TOO MANY OF THEM AND MOST OF THE PEOPLE IN TOWN WERE SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW IT AND FLEE FOR BETTER PROTECTION. ANGUS AND I LOOKED AT EACH OTHER AND SAID, "AW HELL, WHY NOT?"

I ROLLED OUT AND DETACHED THE TRAILER REAL QUICK AND GAVE DIXON A QUICK UPDATE ON WHAT WE WERE GOING TO DO. MCELROY WAS TRYING AND NOT HAVING MUCH LUCK TO PATCH UP A GRAZE ON DIX'S FOREHEAD. I ALMOST CALLED IT OFF WHEN I SAW HOW BADLY DAMAGED THE TRUCK WAS ON TOP OF DIX'S HEAD WOUND BUT ONE WAY OR ANOTHER WE WOULD HAVE TO FACE THE ZOMBIES AND A LITTLE GOODWILL NEVER HURT ANYTHING.

JUICER WENT TO WORK AND IN UNDER AN HOUR ANGUS HAD CLEANED UP ALL BUT A FEW STRAGGLERS; THE RESIDENTS OF TRENTON PICKED THOSE OFF. IN TYPICAL FASHION THERE WERE SOME PEOPLE THAT PURPOSEFULLY ACTED LIKE JACKASSES AND SAID THEY COULD HAVE TAKEN CARE OF THE HORDE WITHOUT OUR HELP BUT ENOUGH PEOPLE WERE APPRECIATIVE THAT WE DIDN'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THE SAD-SACKS TOO MUCH.

THE "WELL MET GOOD FELLOWS" ACT WAS A BIT SUSPICIOUS AFTER THEIR PREVIOUS BEHAVIOR BUT IT SEEMS THAT SOME RELIGIOUS NUTS HAD TAKEN OVER THE RUNNING OF THE TOWN. I SUPPOSE THEY MEANT WELL IN THEIR OWN WAY, BUT DAMN THEY HAD A FUNNY WAY OF SHOWING IT. WE GOT SOME KIND OF STUPID RELIGIOUS DESIGNATION AND A SIGN TO PUT IN THE WINDOW. I WOULD HAVE TOSSED IT THE FIRST CHANCE I GOT EXCEPT WE NEEDED TO GO THAT WAY AGAIN ON THE WAY TO CHIEFLAND. IF IT KEPT US FROM GETTING SHOT AT I COULD PUT UP WITH A LITTLE PETTY RELIGIOUS LEGALISM.

THE CLOSER WE GOT TO MY INLAWS' THE MORE KNOTS I GOT IN MY STOMACH. THEIR LITTLE TOWN DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A TRAFFIC LIGHT. IT HAS … HAD … ONE GAS STATION, A SMALL GROCERY STORE, A COMBINED SCHOOL FOR KINDERGARTEN THROUGH HIGHSCHOOL, AND A HARDWARE AND LUMBER STORE. THAT'S JUST ABOUT IT. NOTHING HAD BEEN TENDED TO IN A LONG TIME. THERE WASN'T MUCH DAMAGE, JUST A LOT OF SILENCE AND AN ATMOSPHERE OF EXTREME NEGLECT.

I SHOWED ANGUS WHERE TO TURN AND THEN TURN AGAIN TO GET BACK TO MY INLAWS' HEAVILY WOODED FIVE ACRES. THE ACREAGE SITS BACK OFF THE MAIN ROAD AND IS SURROUNDED BY OTHER PLOTS OF DIFFERENT SIZES BUT SIMILAR MAKE UP. NOT A DAMN ANIMAL TO BE SEEN IN THIS AREA WHERE PEOPLE HAD MORE DOGS THAN KIDS AS WE PULLED BACK INTO THE TREES THAT HID SISSY'S PARENTS' HOME. I KNEW. AS SOON AS I SAW THE PLACE I JUST KNEW FOR CERTAIN.

THERE WASN'T MUCH DAMAGE. IN FACT, ALL THE WINDOWS AND DOORS HAD BEEN BOARDED OVER. MY MOTHER IN LAW'S GREEN HOUSE HAD BEEN TORN DOWN AND WAS IN PIECES ALL OVER THE SIDE YARD AND ONE OF THE BANISTERS ON THE DECK PORCH HAD FALLEN OFF BUT THAT WAS IT. I WAS TRYING REAL HARD NOT TO FEEL ANYTHING AT THAT MOMENT. I COULD HEAR THE DRUMMING IN MY EARS AND THE TICKING OF THE VEHICLES AS THEY COOLED DOWN BUT THAT WAS IT BUT I KEPT EVERYTHING ELSE OUT.

I WALKED AROUND THE PLACE AND SAW MY BROTHER IN LAW'S SEMI OUT BEHIND THE BIG STORAGE SHEDS COVERED IN TARPS AND TREE DEBRIS. I WOULDN'T HAVE GIVEN IT MUCH THOUGHT EXCEPT I KNEW IT DIDN'T BELONG THERE. THE ALUMINUM PANELS THAT COVER THE AREA UNDER THE PORCH HAD TAKEN SOME DAMAGE BUT HAD BEEN REINFORCED WITH WIRE FENCING. I FINALLY WALKED BACK TO THE DECK, CLIMBED THE STAIRS, AND RIPPED OFF THE PLYWOOD THAT COVERED THE FRONT DOOR.

TAPED TO THE DOOR WAS A ZIPLOC BAG THAT HELD A LETTER WITH SISSY'S NAME WRITTEN ON THE ENVELOPE IN BIG BLOCK LETTERS. AFTER READING IT I SAT DOWN AND NOTICED THAT MCELROY WAS UNDER THE AVALANCHE. AN OIL LINE HAD GOTTEN KNICKED AND THERE WAS A COUPLE OF OTHER THINGS THAN WOULD HAVE TO BE REPAIRED BEFORE WE COULD GET BACK ON THE ROAD. THAT SUITED ME BECAUSE I NOW HAD TO DECIDE WHAT TO DO WITH THE STUFF IN THE SEMI AND THINK ON HOW I WAS GOING TO TELL SISSY.

WE UNPACKED SOME OF OUR GEAR AND TOOK IT INSIDE THE TRAILER FOR THE NIGHT. THE INTERIOR WAS DARK, MUSTY, AND MY MOTHER IN LAW WOULD HAVE BEEN HORRIFIED. THERE WAS MOLD GROWING IN TWO CORNERS OF THEIR BEDROOM AND THERE HAD BEEN A LEAK IN THE KITCHEN CEILING. THAT MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE TOLD ME MY INLAWS DIDN'T LIVE THERE ANY MORE.

THE PROBLEM OF WHAT TO DO WITH SISSY'S PARENTS STUFF WASN'T THE ONLY PROBLEM. IN ADDITION TO THE DAMAGE TO THE AVALANCHE, WHICH WAS MINOR, WE DISCOVERED THAT BOTH RADIOS HAD SOME KIND OF DAMAGE TO THEM. BOTH ANTENNAS WERE TOAST AND ONE OF THE RADIOS WERE. WE HAD ONE GOOD RADIO BUT NO WAY TO GET THE SIGNAL OUT OF THE TREES WE WERE SURROUNDED BY.

THE ANTENNA WAS PRETTY EASY TO REPLACE; LOTS OF GOOD OL' BOYS AND GIRLS IN THE AREA WITH ALL OF THEIR TOYS JUST LYING AROUND. IN FACT, WE FOUND IT JUST A HOUSE OVER FROM MY INLAWS WERE A COUPLE FROM ALASKA RENTED OUT THEIR HOUSE PART OF THE YEAR TO A YOUNG COUPLE MY BROTHER IN LAW INTRODUCED THEM TO. EVERYTHING ELSE TOOK MORE TIME TO FIND AND IN FACT IT WAS GETTING TOO CLOSE TO DARK TO EVEN THINK OF LEAVING.

WE ATE THE LAST OF THE MEALS THAT SISSY HAD MADE FOR US AND DRANK SOME GRAPE JUICE MY FATHER-IN-LAW HAD CANNED OVER THE SUMMER BEFORE EVERYTHING WHEN TO HELL. I DIDN'T KNOW HOW I WAS GOING TO EXPLAIN THINGS TO SISSY OVER THE RADIO WHEN WE FINALLY DID GET IT UP AND RUNNING.

AS WE SAT AROUND THAT NIGHT PLANNING OUT THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS, DIX ASKED ME IF I WAS COMFORTABLE DRIVING THE SEMI ALL THE WAY BACK TO SANCTUARY ASSUMING WE COULD GET IT THROUGH TRAFFIC. I SAID THAT DIDN'T BOTHER ME SO MUCH AS IT WOULD LEAVE ANGUS WITHOUGH A DRIVING PARTNER AND POSSIBLY MAKE US A BIGGER TARGET. STRANGELY HE WAS ALL FOR TRYING TO BRING IT BACK. IF IT GOT STUCK SOMEPLACE BEFORE WE GOT BACK TO SANCTUARY WE COULD AT LEAST SAY WE TRIED AND IF WE DID MAKE IT BACK IT WOULD BE ANOTHER TRAILER FOR US TO USE IN THE WALL. AND IT WOULD CERTAINLY GIVE SISSY SOMETHING ELSE BESIDES HER GRIEF TO FOCUS ON, A STRATEGY I AGREED WITH THEN AND NOW. MCELROY JUST SHRUGGED. ANGUS SAID, "NOTHING VENTURED, NOTHING GAINED." SO IT WAS DECIDED AND WE ADDED THE SEMI TO OUR CONVOY.

WE TURNED IN FOR THE NIGHT BUT I LAY THERE A LONG TIME LISTENING TO THE DOGS SNORE BEFORE I ACTUALLY FELL ASLEEP.


	90. Day 135

**Day 135 (Wednesday – Water Day** )

It's been wet and drizzly all day. Night watch said it started about 3 AM and here it is about 10 PM and the rain has progressed to a full downpour. James is on guard duty right now and will be until 2 AM. He's just 16 years old, out on the Wall, in the pouring rain, defending us against zombies and raiders and God alone knows what else. Tell me the world hasn't changed. I dare you.

If the rain doesn't let up soon work on the pole walls will have to be put off until the ground dries up. That will be disappointing after today's progress. They had a couple of false starts as they tried a couple of different techniques but Angus, Mr. Morris, and Scott believe they have a good idea how to proceed from this point forward.

First they dig a trench two feet wide by three feet deep. Then they fill the trench about half full of gravel they are hauling in from concrete and landscaping companies around town. So far they are getting it from a place right down the road on Florida Avenue which is only a couple of miles down the road.

Next they cut down a couple of pines from a stand that was planted by the utility company about 15 years ago. The trees are pretty tall but still thin. They split the pines length ways and set them aside. Next they lay 5 of the telephone poles side-by-side. They take a pine split and lay it across the bottom of the five telephone poles, nail it in place with twelve inch landscape nails, and then trim the pine split. The do the same at the top of the poles. They wind up with something that looks like a long, narrow raft.

With one end of the "raft" in the trench, they slowly lift the raft upright using block and tackle. The bottom of the "raft" stays in the trench and the top of the "raft" is secured to the top of the Wall using a couple of large eye-rings, a couple of s-hooks, and a length of sturdy chain.

The bonus of this method is that if the Wall catches on fire somehow, we can unhook the chain and drop a section of poles before it ignites the rest of the Wall. It will also make repairs easier. Even better is the top of the "raft' is higher than the top of the steel storage containers and that section can now function as a palisade of sorts. That will be added protection for Wall guards and defenders. They were able to raise three sections today even with the late start.

If or when they run out of the landscape nails they are looking at two alternatives. First is that Scott thinks he can fabricate more nails using rebar. The second is a non-mechanical solution where the men use thick wild potato vines like rope and tie the telephone poles together using knots most of them probably learned in Boy Scouts or the military.

All in all it looks like the Wall will continue to be our main barrier and defense tool; well that and our own commonsense. I can see how it will remain an important and vital part of Sanctuary for years to come.

Today was Water Day and I have to say that I'm very glad of the rain. I've been watering the sub-gardens by hand and running the drip irrigation on the main garden. We've already refilled the garden water tower and all of the in-ground pools inside Sanctuary's Wall. From the look of things all of the retention pools outside of the Wall are refilling as well.

I was on one of the water teams with Betty and Reba. I took them to show them the locations of the water barrels outside of Sanctuary and not expecting trouble, we only went lightly armed. The women both carried rifles; I had my .22 rifle, the new Mark III long barrel pistol Scott gave me, and my trusty machete. If we had gone any heavier getting our chore completed would have been too hard.

Even so we got a pretty bad scare. Not one of the worst ones I've ever had but the freaky factor was right up near the top. I have a feeling that it will be a while before Betty and Reba feel comfortable going outside the Wall again though given the day and times that we live in I don't see how they are going to be able to avoid it for long.

We are lucky to have had several pool supply companies within easy gathering distance from us we gathered and stored everything they had left in one of the houses right outside of the rear gate. The chlorine has a very strong smell, in fact you really aren't supposed to inhale it but you still manage to get a whiff when you are adding it to the pools. We had grabbed a supply of this chlorine before heading out into the outlying neighborhood. We were in the backyard by one of the pools testing the water before adding some of the granulated chlorine. I was adding the chlorine per usual when I noticed something.

It was an odd odor. It didn't smell like decay so I didn't think zombie. It was that burnt, smoky smell again. I asked the other two women if they smelled it and they confirmed they did. I looked to the sky but didn't see any sign of smoke. It kind of smelled like a cooking fire but at the same time kind of nasty. Then the smell got even stronger. Following the smell I walked around to the front of the house.

You know, I don't like to curse but I am human and make some real chowder headed mistakes sometimes. Man, when I came around that house I lost my religion for a minute. What I saw was just plain ol' awful in a way that is really hard to describe.

At first it was hard to put two and two together. But the human brain is an amazing organ and not just because it can become a harbinger of the NRS bacteria.

Neuron One says, "What's that?"

Neuron Two says, "What's what?"

Neuron One says, "That. What's that?"

Neuron Two says, "I don't know, ask the ears."

The ears say, "We aren't sure but whatever it is keeps running into the side of the building over and over. And if we listen close we can also hear crumbling and flaking. If that doesn't help, why don't you ask the eyes."

The eyes say, "Ew. Why do we want to look at something like that. Really weird. Its short, kinda blackened. Kinda looks … well, its looks like something is missing. We don't now … roadkill?'

Neuron One says, "No, roadkill doesn't walk."

The eyes say, "Well then don't look at us. Have you asked the nose?"

The nose says, "I was the one that notified you guys. That's why you had the legs walk around the building in the first place. It smells like smoke and burnt things. If you haven't figured it out yet go see if the heart knows."

The neurons finally ask the heart. The heart knows but is too shocked and horrified to answer and can only pump faster and faster.

Finally the neurons give up and just decide to fire all the data off to the cerebrum. The cerebrum takes all the data, puts it together and nearly panics. It activates the fight or flight emergency response system. The medulla produces adrenaline. The legs become poised to run. The hair stands on end. The lungs pump the body full of oxygen. The eyes zero in on the threat. The mouth battles the vocal chords to hold back a scream. And the hand and arm try to work together to grab the best weapon to defend the whole body.

And all of that happens in under a second. The human brain is an amazing organ; I simply didn't want to accept what mine was trying to tell me.

A child; or the shell of what had once been a child. If I had to guess it had been somewhere between Johnnie and Bekah's age. Another guess might have made it a girl child but in today's unisex hairstyles and clothing styles I wasn't certain; not that there was much left of either one. The clothes it wore were barely charred remnants affixed to the body here and there. The odd tuft of blondish stubble was all that was left of the hair.

Its facial features were melted into an unrecognizable sludge stuck to the front of the skull. All the soft tissues was gone; eyelids, eyeballs, nose, lips, ears. It had also lost a few teeth along the way to allow me to see the tongue was also gone. It was a shambler in the truest sense; the NRS infection unable to access the once human senses because they no longer existed so it wandered aimlessly until a catastrophic bit of decay prevented further movement.

It didn't register pain or light. It made no sound though that wasn't unusual, none of the zombies made sounds with their vocal chords. Unlike other zombies it didn't appear to be able to hear either. It had no reaction to my string of curses nor the gasps of the other two women.

Reba cried out in disgust while Betty begged, "Please put the poor thing out of its misery."

I raised the Mark III to do just that. It's a good thing I had because around the corner of the house came several similarly burned up creatures; these however apparently still had their hearing and had zeroed in on us.

They shambled only slightly faster than their deaf compatriot but they were focused. I fired at the lead zombie and got it with a lucky head shot. Behind me I felt more than saw Reba and Betty bring their own weapons to bear. We used way too much ammo to take down eight zombies in such close proximity, but our reaction made us less accurate than normal. We'll need to work on that.

The volume of shots brought several teams running to provide back up. And still the zombie child continued to run into the side of the house. None of the ruckus had stopped its relentless attempt to go forward. It was J. Paul who stepped forward and blew its head off, finally ending its tortured existence.

He said, "We spotted another bunch o' these burned up zombies about 45 minutes ago heading west. The big guy, Dixon, he said to let 'em go since they were headed away from us."

That night after dinner we discussed the burned zombies. Marty, in his typical fashion, said we should start a zombie lexicon. We have shamblers, ragers, and now we have flambés. A little tacky but about as honest as anything else. It's easier to think of them by nicknames than to think about what they really are, and who they might have once been.

We've all given up on the "why are there zombies" question; it's frustrating scientifically and psychologically and the philosophical debate used to go on for hours ad nauseum. We've accepted that they simply are what they are. But we do still ask questions and wonder about specific zombie origins and behaviors. This time the question was why so many badly burned zombies and why were they coming out of the east? To sum up all the possibilities we think there was another Big Fire; not unlike the one we experienced in this area, but far enough away that we haven't seen smoke or ash on the horizon. The fire must have caught a horde in mid migration. The questions none of us could answer was did the fire take out the whole horde or not? Were today's zombies the remnants or the forerunners? Do we need to worry about another large horde heading our way out of the east? If so how soon?

By that time the rain was coming down in buckets and a bone-deep chill was in the air. The rain would make the zombies behave abnormally, and less directly threatening, so we decided to table it as a security issue for now.

Scott and I had to ferry the younger kids and Sarah back to the house in our arms because of the standing water. Scott was exhausted and needed sleep because he will take the 2 am to 5 am watch. He went off to bed while I got the kids washed up, warmed up, and off to bed as quietly as possible. Everyone was more than ready to go, even my rowdiest kidlets.

I wanted to crawl in bed myself but I had a ton of planning to do. The rain made me want to just snuggle under the covers and sleep in late. No time for that kind of stuff these days. I'm running out of prepared menus and need to work up a couple of extra weeks worth. Jim leaves at first light with Angus to go to the Port, find the part needed for trade, and then make arrangements with the Tarpon Springs group. That means that I also need to work on replacing the instant mixes that they will take as part of their BOBs and daily meals.

The one thing we did make a decision about tonight is that no one is outside the Wall without what we are calling an emergency pack. It's not a BOB per se but more a fanny pack that has some energy bars, a couple of instant soup packets, a couple of pieces of hard candy, a mylar blanket, and a multi-tool in it. Even if we are just outside the Wall like the men working on the pole wall or within sight of the Wall like I was today. It's one of those "better safe than sorry" things my Dad was fond of talking about.

I found my dad's deer-handled tableware he was working on. He would go to flea markets and yard sales looking for old eating utensils that were sturdy but had a broken or crappy handle. Then he would polish them up and use the deer antlers my mom's brother and cousins would send him to make new handles. He had completed 15 place settings of knives, forks, and spoons and he had made some nice serving pieces too. My favorite pieces are the forks that have three tines and look a bit like pitchforks.

I also found the old glass butter churn that belonged to my great grandmother and the stoneware crocks my grandmother used to make pickles and sauerkraut. They should come in handy real soon. In the same box I found the stoneware jugs my great grandfather used to use for his homebrew. Scott laughed at those when he saw them on our counter. He wanted to know if I was going to revert to the ways of my ancestors and I told him maybe so.

What I really wish is that we could take the good from the "good ol' days" and the good from the modern era and blend them so that we somehow avoid the bad from both. I had mentioned something similar when I picked up Kitty's goat milk this morning and Mr. Morris just laughed and said, "Honey that's only goin' ta happen if you figure out how to get rid of most of the people."

His granddaughter Claire, a rather morose young woman still struggling to deal with the changes in her life and the loss of a long time boyfriend said, "Haven't the zombies and raiders already done that?"

SCOTT'S VERSION OF THE NORTH FLORIDA RUN (PART 3)

DECEMBER 3RD NOTHING WENT QUITE AS EXPECTED. WE HAD PLANNED TO COMPLETE THE TRUCK AND RADIO REPAIRS AND BE GONE BY LUNCH TIME. ZOMBIES ON THE OTHER HAND DIDN'T APPEAR TO HAVE CHECKED THE SCHEDULE AND KEPT US BUSY UNTIL MIDMORNING. THEN THE REPAIRS TO THE TRUCK TOOK LONGER THAN EXPECTED. MCELROY AND ANGUS PRETTY MUCH HAD THE REPAIRS UNDER CONTROL AND THAT LEFT ME AT LOOSE ENDS. I CAN'T STAND HAVING NOTHING TO DO. IT JUST BUGS THE HECK OUT OF ME. NOT ONLY THAT BUT IT LEFT ME TIME TO GRIEVE AND I DIDN'T WANT TO GO THERE YET, NOT WITHOUT SISSY.

I BEGAN DIGGING THROUGH WHAT I COULD IN THE BACK OF THE SEMI. DIXON WANDERED OVER TO SEE WHAT I WAS DOING. I TOLD HIM I WANTED TO FIND A COUPLE OF THINGS TO TAKE BACK TO SISSY IN CASE WE HAD TO DITCH THE TRUCK SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY. THERE WAS TOO MUCH FOR ME TO REALLY PICK JUST A FEW ITEMS BUT I DID MANAGE TO FIND WHAT I THOUGHT WOULD MEAN THE MOST TO SISSY. I PULLED OUT HER DAD'S BIBLE THAT HAD ALL HIS HANDWRITTEN NOTES IN IT. I ALSO PULLED HOW HIS MOTHER'S BIBLE THAT MY INLAWS STUCK ALL OF THEIR IMPORTANT PAPERS IN. I NEVER UNDERSTOOD WHY THEY DID IT LIKE THAT … BIRTH CERTIFICATES, THEIR MARRIAGE LICENSE, COPIES OF DEATH CERTIFICATES, OBITUARIES, AND EVEN THE BILL OF SALE OF THEIR PROPERTY. THERE WAS SOMETHING BETWEEN ALMOST EVERY PAGE, INCLUDING SOME PRESSED FLOWERS THAT HAD BEEN IN THERE NEARLY 75 YEARS. I WRAPPED BOTH BOOKS IN PLASTIC WRAP AND THEN STUCK THEM INSIDE A GARBAGE BAG AND STUCK THEM IN MY BACKPACK. IF IT CAME DOWN TO BEING ON FOOT THAT WAS THE ONLY THING I COULD FIND I'D BE SURE TO BE ABLE TO CARRY HOME.

DIXON HELPED ME TO REPACK EVERYTHING BUT ASKED IF I MINDED THAT WE REDISTRIBUTE SOME OF THE FOOD WE HAD FOUND. WE WERE ALREADY OVE R A DAY BEHIND SCHEDULE. AT THIS RATE WE KNEW WE COULD BE SEVERAL DAYS BEHIND BY THE TIME WE GOT BACK TO SANCTUARY. WE HAD THE AMMO UNDER CONTROL THANKS TO OUR STOP AT THAT PAWN SHOP. FUEL COULD BE A PROBLEM, ESPECIALLY SINCE WE HOPED TO STAY ON THE MOST DIRECT PATH HOME. WATER MIGHT BE A PROBLEM BUT WE WERE DOING OK SO FAR PLUS WE HAD GOOD FILTERS WE COULD USE. BY USING THE STUFF MY INLAWS CANNED WE COULD TAKE CARE OF ONE POTENTIAL PROBLEM. MY FATHER IN LAW WOULD HAVE BEEN UPSET IF I HADN'T USED IT. I ALSO KNEW SISSY WOULD HAVE THOUGHT I WAS NUTS HAD I HESITATED. SO I GRABBED JARS OF VENISON CHILI, PEARS, AND VEGETABLE SOUP AS WELL AS MORE OF THE CANNED FRUIT JUICE THAT I FOUND AND SPLIT THEM BETWEEN THE CABS OF THE THREE VEHICLES.

THE FUEL FOR THE AVALANCHE WE PARTIALLY TOOK CARE OF BY DRAINING VEHICLES WITHIN A SHORT WALKING DISTANCE FROM WHERE WE WERE. MOST PLACES STILL HAD AT LEAST ONE VEHICLE AROUND THEIR PLACE AND THAT MADE US WONDER WHERE ALL THE PEOPLE WENT AND HOW DID THEY GET THERE.

THE SEMI WAS TOPPED OFF BUT IT WASN'T EASY TO GET IT STARTED. MCELROY HAD TO FIDDLE WITH IT AND DRAIN THE FUEL LINE TWICE BEFORE IT WOULD CATCH. IT RAN ROUGH FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS BUT GRADUALLY RAN BETTER AFTER WE RAN SOME FRESHER FUEL THROUGH IT. WE LUCKED OUT WITH THE DIESEL FUEL. THAT AREA IS FULL OF SMALL FARMS AND FORESTRY FOLK MANY OF WHOM KEEP THEIR OWN DIESEL TANKS TO FILL THEIR TRUCKS AND TRACTORS WITH. SEVERAL OF THEM EVEN HAD MANUAL PUMPS WHICH WAS A PLUS. WE TOPPED OFF JUICER AND THEN FILLED A BUNCH OF GAS CANS IN CASE WE RAN INTO TROUBLE DOWN THE ROAD.

NORMALLY IT TAKES LESS THAN HALF A TANK IN THE ASTRO VAN WE USED AS OUR MAIN VEHICLE TO GET FROM OUR HOUSE TO MY INLAWS'. HOWEVER ALL THE STOP-AND-GO, WEAVING IN-AND-OUT, AND THEN OUR DETOUR THROUGH GAINESVILLE ATE UP OUR FUEL SUPPLIES FASTER THAN EXPECTED. WE STILL HAD A LITTLE BIT LEFT OVER THAT WE HAD SNAGGED IN WILDWOOD BUT IT WASN'T MUCH OF A CUSHION. WE DECIDED THAT FROM THERE ON OUT WHEN WE STOPPED FOR THE EVENING THE LOCATION WOULD BE A POTENTIAL PLACE TO RE-FUEL.

THE RADIO REPAIRS DIDN'T WORK. WE WERE ALL ANXIOUS BY THAT TIME AS WE HAD BEEN OUT OF CONTACT FOR OVER 24 HOURS. DIXON PULLED THE RADIO APART AND SAID THAT IT LOOKED LIKE A CAPASITOR HAD FAILED. THAT MEANT WE'D BE OUT OF CONTACT UNTIL WE COULD FIND A REPLACEMENT RADIO. WE DECIDED WE'D JUST SUCK IT UP AND ASK IN TRENTON IF THERE WAS SOMETHING WE COULD TRADE FOR A RADIO. IF THAT DIDN'T WORK WE'D HEAD ON TO CHIEFLAND AND SEE WHAT WE COULD FIND THERE.

EITHER WAY WE WERE LOOKING AT ANOTHER NIGHT WHERE WE WERE AND IN HINDSIGHT IT WAS A BETTER DECISION THAN RUSHING OUT.

ABOUT ONE A.M. A SMALLISH HORDE PASSED THROUGH. THEY DIDN'T BOTHER US, WE STAYED QUIET. THE ODD MOVEMENTS OF THE SMALL HORDES OF ZOMBIES ARE EASIER TO NOTICE OUT WHERE YOU CAN OBSERVE THEM 'IN THE WILD' SO TO SPEAK. THERE ARE FEWER THINGS TO GET IN THEIR WAY AND FEWER PEOPLE TO DISTRACT THEM. AS I WATCHED THEM SHUFFLE ALONG IN STEP WITH ONE ANOTHER THEY REMINDED ME OF SARDINES SWIMMING. THE LARGER "SCHOOLS" OF ZOMBIES EVEN HAVE MOVEMENTS WITHIN THE OVERALL MOVEMENT, JUST LIKE A REAL SCHOOL OF FISH. IT CAN BE FREAKY AND HYPNOTIC TO WATCH.

THE HORDE FINISHED PASSING THROUGH ABOUT AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER. WE GRABBED A LITTLE MORE SLEEP AND THEN WERE UP AND ON THE ROAD AT FIRST LIGHT WITH JUST A CLIF BAR FOR BREAKFAST. WE WERE THAT ANXIOUS TO GET BACK ON THE ROAD.

AS WE GOT CLOSER TO TRENTON WE NOTICED BOTH FRESH AND ZOMBIE CORPSES LITTERING THE ROAD. CONSIDERING HOW CLEAN THE ROAD HAD BEEN WHEN WE PASSED THAT WAY THE FIRST TIME WE KNEW THAT WASN'T A GOOD SIGN. THE ONLY THING THEY HAD IN COMMON WAS THAT THEY WERE ALL SANITIZED AND WOULDN'T BE WALKING AGAIN. AS WE PASSED THROUGH TOWN WE SAW SOME SMOULDERING BUILDING FIRES. THE AREA WHERE THE ROADBLOCK HAD BEEN WAS LITTERED WITH DEBRIS. THE ONLY THING THAT STILL STOOD WAS THE LARGEST OF THE THREE CROSSES THAT HAD BEEN INSTALLED AT THE SIDE OF THE ROAD. WE DIDN'T SEE ANY LIVE PEOPLE BUT WE HAD A FEELING THEY WERE THERE AND HIDING. SO MUCH FOR STOPPING AND ASKING ABOUT RADIOS.

WE WERE JUST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROAD BLOCK HEADING EAST ON SR26 TOWARD CHIEFLAND WHEN THIS WOMAN COMES OUT OF NOWHERE TO JUMP IN FRONT OF JUICER. NONE OF US WERE DRIVING FAST, 15 MPH AT MOST SINCE WE WERE TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT HAD OCCURRED AND WHEN. WE STILL HAD TO SLAM ON OUR BREAKS AND I NEARLY REAR-ENDED THE AVALANCHE WITH THE SEMI.

YOU'VE MET RHONDA BY NOW SO YOU KNOW SHE IS A PISTOL. IN MY EXPERIENCE IT JUST ISN'T A GOOD IDEA TO TRY AND ARGUE WITH A PREGNANT WOMAN BUT THAT IS WHAT DIXON TRIED TO DO; TRY BEING THE OPERATIVE WORD. SHE SAID SHE HAD SEEN US WHEN WE PASSED THROUGH THE FIRST TIME. THE PERSON WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE GIVEN HER A RIDE BACK TO THE PLACE SHE WAS STAYING ABANDONED HER DURING THE PANIC WHEN THE ZOMBIE HORDE CAME THROUGH. IT WAS TOO FAR FOR HER TO WALK IN HER CONDITION – ABOUT FIVE MILES AND FIVE MONTHS PREGNANT – AND AT THE TIME ALL SHE WANTED WAS A LIFT. WE WERE GOING THAT WAY ANYWAY SO DIXON FINALLY CAVED. RHONDA SAID SHE'D RIDE WITH ANGUS SO THAT SHE COULD SHOW HIM TO THE WAY. SHE SAID, "WE'LL BE FINE BIG BOY, JUST SO'S LONG AS YOU KEEP THEM DOGS AND YOUR HANDS UNDER CONTROL."

ANGUS JUST LAUGHED, OPENED THE DOOR AND HELPED HER CLIMB UP, AND WE ALL TOOK OFF. FIVE MILES DOWN THE FIRST CLEAR ROAD WE HAD TRAVELLED SINCE LEAVING TAMPA WE PULLED ONTO A DIRT ROAD. WE NEARLY GOT SHOT UNTIL RHONDA STUCK HER HEAD OUT THE WINDOW AND SCREAMED, "DON'T Y'ALL SHOOT MY RIDE NOW. THEY GAVE ME A LIFT FROM TOWN."

THERE WERE A BUNCH OF LOADED VEHICLES AND NERVOUS PEOPLE MILLING ABOUT UNTIL RHONDA INTRODUCED DIXON WHO INTRODUCED ANGUS, MCELROY, AND ME. THEY HAD JUST ABOUT GIVEN UP ON RHONDA COMING HOME AND WERE GIVING HER JUST A COUPLE OF MORE HOURS BEFORE THEY HEADED OUT. THEY WERE LEAVING THE AREA, LOOKING TO HOOK UP WITH SOME FAMILY THAT ONE OF THE GROUP HAD IN PLANT CITY WHICH IS JUST EAST OF TAMPA. THE FOUR FAMILIES WERE STILL NOT CONVINCED THEY WERE DOING THE RIGHT THING. WE TOLD THEM WHAT IT WAS LIKE AND THAT MADE THEM HESITATE EVEN MORE.

THEN RHONDA TOLD THEM WHAT HAD HAPPENED IN TRENTON. MOST EVERYONE HAD ABANDONED THEIR POSTS AND THE RAIDERS WERE LIKELY ON THEIR WAY TO FINISH OFF THE REST OF THE TOWN. THE RAIDERS HAD GOTTEN SMART AND STARTED FOLLOWING THE HORDES LIKE NOMADS. THEY PICKED OVER WHAT WAS LEFT IN AN AREA AFTER THE ZOMBIES HAD BEATEN THE PEOPLE DOWN OR KILLED THEM. THE RAIDERS WERE BECOMING MORE NUMEROUS AND MORE BRUTAL NOW THAT THEY HAD BEGUN TO UNDERSTAND HOW TO CO-EXIST WITH THE ZOMBIES.

THAT DECIDED IT. THE NICHOLSON AND BRADY FAMILIES WERE CLOSE FRIENDS OF THE MORRIS FAMILIES. RHONDA WAS SOME HOW RELATED TO ALL FOUR, SISSY WOULD CALL HER A "SHIRT TAIL COUSIN" OF SOME TYPE, AND WAS THE ONE PERSON WHO TIED THEM ALL TOGETHER.

BOTTOM LINE AFTER DECIDING THAT ALL OF US WOULD TRAVEL TOGETHER, FIGURING OUT WHAT ORDER WE WOULD DRIVE IN AND GETTING EVERYTHING SQUARED AWAY WE DIDN'T GET MUCH FARTHER DOWN THE ROAD THAN WE HAD STARTED. HOWEVER, WE DID GET TO KNOW THE FAMILIES BETTER AND THEY DID OFFER TO LOAD UP SOME COWS FOR US AT THE ABANDONED DAIRY FARM WHERE WE SPENT THE NIGHT. WE HADN'T ACTUALLY INVITED THEM TO COME TO SANCTUARY AT THAT POINT BUT DIXON MUST HAVE ALREADY BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT. HE CAME TO EACH OF US INDIVIDUALLY AND ASKED US TO CONSIDER IT AND IF THEY WOULD BE A GOOD ADDITION TO OUR POPULATION OR NOT. I ALREADY LIKE THE MORRIS FAMILIES AND THE BRADY FAMILY WASN'T BAD EITHER. RHONDA WAS A CHARACTER, FULL OF SPUNK, AND BRAVER THAN SHE HAD ANY RIGHT TO BE. WE ALREADY HAD ONE PREGNANT WOMAN IN SANCTUARY, ONE MORE WOULDN'T BE A PROBLEM. THE NICHOLSONS THOUGH WERE A LITTLE ON THE NEEDY SIDE, ESPECIALLY WHEN COMPARED TO THE OTHER PEOPLE IN THEIR GROUP, AND I DECIDED TO RESERVE JUDGEMENT FOR A BIT LONGER.

WE DRAINED THE LAST OF THE DIESEL OUT OF THE FARM'S TANKS TO TOP OFF ALL OF THE VEHICLES NOW IN THE CONVOY AND TO FUEL A CATTLE TRAILER. WE ALSO SCAVENGED WHAT FOOD WAS LEFT IN THE FARM HOUSE, WHICH WASN'T MUCH BUT BETTER THAN NOTHING, AND GRABBED ALL OF THE ANIMAL FEED THAT WE COULD. WE HAD TO FIGHT WITH SOME RATS OVER IT WHICH WAS FREAKY BUT THE MORRIS KIDS HAD FIGHTING RATS DOWN TO A SCIENCE.

AFTER A DINNER PREPARED BY THE WOMEN IN THE OTHER GROUP WE ALL SETTLED IN FOR A RELATIVELY PEACEFUL NIGHT. NO ZOMBIES, NO RAIDERS, BUT I DON'T THINK ANYONE SLEPT VERY WELL. I CAN ONLY GUESS HOW THE OTHERS WERE FEELING BUT I WAS MISSING MY FAMILY AND WAS GETTING IRRITATED AT OUR SLOW PROGRESS. I WAS ACTUALLY GRATEFUL FOR MY TURN AT WATCH AS IT GAVE ME SOMETHING BESIDES MY WORRIES TO THINK ABOUT.


	91. Day 136

**Day 136**

Jim and Angus left first thing this morning; both of them really cheery despite the cold drizzle still coming down out of the sky. I sent them out with some breakfast burritos in their bellies and a hot cooler full of beef stew and fresh baked corn muffins. At least I know they'll have something warm to eat tonight. They expect to be back tomorrow or the next day depending on how long it takes them to find the part they are looking for. Jim knows where he can find the part, its finding the couplers and hoses for it that may take longer. I know they are grown men but I just don't like any of our people getting too far away from home for very long. That must be how some people felt as they watched ancient sailors leaving a safe harbor; no one knew if they would come home or if they were going to fall off the edge of the world never to be heard from again.

We haven't seen any more of the burned zombies though we've seen some zombies exhibiting the normal crazy behavior they have when it rains. Not as crazy as break dancing or standing on their heads like you get in a heavy downpour, but they ran into trees and each other as often as they didn't.

After yesterday anything would be an improvement; but today has actually been a really good day. Sarah was up and around nearly the whole work day. She went to bed early but I think that is just because of all the exercise and not because she is having a setback. It will take her a while to build up her stamina to where it was before.

I let Sarah go outside the gates with Scott when he was on break to look at the progress of the pole wall. She was wearing a long raincoat, goulashes, and a floppy rain hat but I told her it was either that or be confined to the house again. In fact, I've managed to find almost everyone some type or raingear. There was some grumbling until Waleski and Rachel reminded everyone we don't have access to modern medicine so getting pneumonia or even a cold could lead to dire, if not deadly, circumstances. It gave everyone something to think about and I've noticed people trying to be less casual about health issues. Certainly the men working on the Wall are wearing their raingear more than I actually expected them to.

While Scott and Sarah were out, Sarah kept getting distracted because she said she saw things over in the bushes. Do you know that child spotted a bunch of chickens that had come to take advantage of all the disturbed ground the guys were churning up? Scott had James send for some feed and a large painter's tarp. They scattered the feed on the ground and then used the tarp to capture all but one skinny hen that then wound up following the rest of her family into Sanctuary's gates anyway.

As much as Reba would have loved to keep them all she said we simply didn't have enough feed yet and so we culled a few and used them to make curried chicken sausage. There was no way it was going to be ready for dinner tonight so we've changed tomorrow's menu and we'll be having Curried Chicken Sausage Tandoori. It was Betty's recipe. Kevin had travelled quite a bit as a civilian contractor when he was younger before settling down to help his father run the family farm and Betty's father was a missionary; they'd been stationed overseas quite a bit. I never would have known. They didn't strike as world travelers; the things you learn about people can be amazing. I really underestimated them and now my kids are clamoring for stories about what it was like in other countries before the world caved in.

The hardest part of the whole sausage operation was grinding the chicken and chicken skin up fine enough. I added a better meat grinder to my list of "wants." We took two pounds of ground chicken meat and skin; two teaspoons of coarse salt; one teaspoon each of cayenne pepper, ground coriander, ground ginger, ground turmeric; and half-teaspoon each of ground cardamom, dry mustard, and ground black pepper. Then we added two tablespoons of sour cream. We had to mix that all together really well and because it was so cold, had to do it with our hands. Betty had some synthetic sausage casings with her kitchen supplies and showed us all how to use them. The synthetic casings don't need to be refrigerated until use like collagen and natural casings. The hitch is that though you can use them to smoke and cook meat, the casings themselves are not edible and need to be removed before you serve the sausage. You also have to soak the casings 20 to 30 minutes before you stuff them. Add another thing to the "want" list although where we might find synthetic casings in Tampa is beyond me. You can't exactly look up "sausage casings" in the yellow pages and call around anymore.

Mr. Morris says that next time we kill a hog we should be prepared to make use of those casings as fast as we can. I can remember reading about hog killing time in Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I also remember being around when my grandparents were kill some hogs on their farm. I remember it was cold and that it seemed like the work went on around the clock for days. I never would have thought that I was recreating the lives of my grandparents. The list of things I've found that I took for granted over the years is staggering.

After we stuffed the sausage into the casings and turned it into links we put the links in one of our evaporation coolers to allow the flavors to meld for two hours. Then we cooked the sausages until they had an internal temperature of 165 degrees F. After the sausage links finished cooking we put them in a casserole dish and marinated them with a mixture made from cumin seed, cayenne, coriander, paprika, salt, pepper, gingerroot, garlic, and a little bit of the yogurt that I've been experimenting with. Tomorrow will be easy. All we have to do is discard the marinade (we'll give it to the hogs in their slop) and broil the sausages for about twenty minutes. We'll serve it with basmati rice and a nice salad. I can't wait.

In the evenings Mr. Morris and Scott have started talking about building some steel drum smokers. It would be nice to have a real smokehouse right away but a couple of drums will do us just as well until we finish the Wall renovations. We have too much to do, not enough time to do it in, and not enough people that know how to do it by themselves.

I tried something today that worked out well. I had to go around and check all the gardens, pull fruit, etc. Between one thing and another everyone else was busy. I still needed help so I enlisted Johnnie and Bubby. Normally I don't let any of my kids outside the Wall except right outside the gate and only then if Scott is around. Well, with the exception of David, Rose, and James I mean but I can hardly call them "kids" anymore. After Sarah got settled down at home and was helping me by ironing some of the clothes that still hadn't dried on our indoor clothes line I took the boys and went garden gathering. I also needed to check some of our water catchment systems to make sure that the lines were still clear.

The boys road with me in the cart and helped me load several bushels of oranges into the wagon. We checked the water barrels and emptied a couple into the nearest pool, and picked up some fallen branches to put on the wood pile back in Sanctuary to dry out. They were a big help and I let them know it. I also took the time to feel them out about Christmas that was only ten days away. I needed to make certain they understood that this year was going to be different than the way they remembered it.

They wanted to know if we were going to make candy like I had promised and I told them yes. Then they wanted to know if we were going to have a big Christmas Eve dinner like I had promised and I told them yes again. Then they wanted to know would everyone get a present? I said yes to that as well. Lastly they wanted to know if Scott was going to play with them on Christmas Day and I said of course. That's all they wanted to know. Their needs are very basic these days … food, fun, and attention. Anything we manage above and beyond that will be icing on the cake. I might try and rig up a piñata of some kind. The women and I have definitely been working hard in our spare time to come up with stockings that all the kids can hang on Christmas Eve. I know presents aren't what Christmas is really about, but we still want to give the kids something. Each will get one useful thing and one frivolous thing. Hopefully we'll have it all figured out before too much longer.

Speaking of frivolous things, my Amazon Lilies are in bloom. I haven't had much time to tend to my lily garden and frankly I'm amazed anything has survived. I almost ripped them all out to plant something more useful but Scott said to leave them alone. He knows how much I need pretty things like flowers to make me feel optimistic. Not the cut variety that wither and turn brown but the live plants that continue to grow and that simply hope and rebirth over and over. Those silly flowers made me leak a few tears every time I see them. They were one of the live plants that were given to us at my mother in law's funeral. But the tears were good things. I may not have had a funeral for my parents, but I had all the memories we had made over the years and I had snippets of the plants my mom had given to me as well. Some of those plants had origins in my great great grandmothers' gardens. They weren't the same plants exactly, but ancestors … from rootings, clippings, seeds, grafts, etc.

I hope we here in Sanctuary can grow something that we can give to our children. I want what we build to mean something to them. I want it to be useful to them. And I want most of the memories to be good ones. Most of all I want to give them some hope in the future. Life may never be what it once was, but it doesn't have to be a hellhole returning to the darkest times of the Middle Ages. I'd rather us see this as a New Renaissance.

SCOTT'S VERSION OF THE NORTH FLORIDA RUN (PART 4)

DECEMBER 5TH WAS NEARLY AS AGGRAVATING AS THE PREVIOUS FOUR DAYS. TRAVELLING IS MUCH MORE DIFFICULT THAN IT USED TO BE. EVERYTHING IS A CHORE. YOU'D THINK WITH FEWER PEOPLE ON THE ROAD THAT THERE WOULD BE FEWER PROBLEMS AND NOT MORE. NOT TRUE. NOW IT'S LIKE TRAVELLING IN A WAGON TRAIN IF YOU HAVE MORE THAN ONE OR TWO VEHICLES. THE LOGISTICS OF FOOD, FUEL, AND LODGINGS ARE MUCH MORE COMPLICATED. AND THE AMOUNT OF TIME IT TAKES YOU TO GET FROM POINT A TO POINT B HAS GROWN EXPONENTIALLY.

WE WERE UP EARLY ENOUGH BUT IT TOOK THREE HOURS TO GET ON THE ROAD. EVERYONE HAD TO GET UP, GET FED, AND GET MOVING. THE ANIMALS HAD TO BE FED AND THE TRAILER MUCKED OUT. BELONGINGS HAD TO BE RETIED OR MOVED INTO A BETTER POSITION IN THE VEHICLES. BATHROOM BREAKS TOOK A WHILE. WE HAD TO GO BACK OVER EVERYONE'S PLACE IN LINE AND WHY. WE HAD TO GO OVER THE ROUTE AGAIN EVEN THOUGH WE HAD COVERED THE WHERE'S AND WHY'S AD NAUSEUM THE PREVIOUS NIGHT. THE NICHOLSON FAMILY REALLY TOOK A LONG TIME HEM-HAWING AROUND. DID THEY REALLY WANT TO LEAVE THEIR HOME? IF THEY DID, DID THEY WANT TO TRAVEL WITH US? SHOULD ANY OF THEM BE TRAVELING WITH US? COULD THEY REALLY TRUST US?

DIXON FINALLY HAD ENOUGH OF IT AND SAID WE WERE PULLING OUT IN FIVE MINUTES. WHOEVER WANTED TO GO NEEDED TO BE IN LINE OR MAKE OTHER ARRANGEMENTS. THE NICHOLSONS TRIED TO CALL OUR BLUFF AND WOUND UP GETTING LEFT BEHIND. THEY FINALLY CAUGHT UP WITH US IN CHIEFLAND AND WERE BADLY RATTLED AND UPSET. THEY TRIED SOME MINOR PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE STUFF THE NEXT DAY AS WELL WITH SIMILAR RESULTS. THE BRADY FAMILY HAS A SPECIAL NEED ADULT CHILD THAT CAUSED US FEWER HOLD UPS THAN THAT FAMILY DID. THE BRADY AND NICHOLSON FAMILIES ARE CLOSE WITH THE TWO WIVES BEING SISTERS. I THINK THE FACT THEY FOUND THEY WERE NOT "IN CHARGE," OR WERE NOT BEING GIVEN THE CONSIDERATION THEY FELT THEY WERE DUE, IS ONE OF THE REASONS WHY THOSE TWO FAMILIES ULTIMATELY CHOSE TO STOP IN TARPON SPRINGS. THAT'S FINE WITH ME. I DON'T HAVE PATIENCE WITH THAT SORT OF THING. NO ONE IS ENTITLED TO ANYTHING THESE DAYS, YOU EARN IT OR YOU LIVE WITHOUT IT.

ONCE WE WERE FINALLY ON THE ROAD AND MOVING WE MADE DECENT TIME – NOT GREAT TIME, BUT DECENT – TO THE OUTSKIRTS OF FANNING SPRINGS WHICH IS RIGHT OUTSIDE CHIEFLAND. THEY ARE CLOSE ENOUGH THAT YOU REALLY DON'T PAY ATTENTION TO WHEN ONE LITTLE TOWN TURNS INTO ANOTHER. THE ONLY THING SEPARATING THEM IS A BRIDGE. AND SEPARATING US FROM OUR INTENDED GOAL WAS ANOTHER BUNCH OF ZOMBIES.

IF IT HAD JUST BEEN THE AVALANCHE AND JUICER WE WOULD HAVE JUST PLOWED RIGHT THROUGH THEM AND KEPT GOING, IGNORING THE ZOMBIES AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. THE PROBLEM WAS THAT THE OTHER DRIVERS IN OUR CONVOY REALLY DIDN'T HAVE ANY EXPERIENCE WITH THAT TYPE OF SANITATION PROCEDURE. KEVIN, HIS SON J. PAUL, AND REBA'S SON CLAY WERE READY TO ROCK AND ROLL BUT DIXON WORRIED THAT THE VEHICLES WOULD GET SEPARATED AND THAT THE CATTLE TRAILER WAS MOST AT RISK. ZOMBIES DON'T NORMALLY GO AFTER ANIMALS BUT IN THE MIDDLE OF A FEEDING FRENZY THEY'LL ATTACK ANYTHING WARM BLOODED, HUMAN OR NOT. WE'VE SEEN THEM CANNIBALIZE THEIR OWN KIND SO RIPPING A CATTLE TRAILER OF ANIMALS APART WASN'T BEYOND THE REALM OF POSSIBILITY.

WE PULLED BACK AND CIRCLED THE WAGONS WHILE ANGUS AND JUICER WENT TO WORK. ABOUT MIDWAY THROUGH JUICER'S NORMAL ROUTINE, FOUR BIG-WHEELED, SOOPED UP 4X4s SHOW UP AND JOIN THE PARTY. I THINK ANGUS STARTED HAVING A LITTLE TOO MUCH FUN. I KNOW THE GUY IS FROM WAY UP NORTH IN THE LAND OF ICE AND SNOW, BUT HE CAN HOOT AND HOLLER LIKE HE'S FROM DOWN HERE IN THE LAND OF COTTON.

AFTERWARD THE ZOMBIES WERE COMPLETELY DECIMATED ANGUS INTRODUCED US TO HIS NEW FRIENDS. ONE OF THEM WAS A CITY COP – FORMER CITY COP, NOW JUST A SURVIVOR LIKE THE REST OF US. HE INVITED US BACK TO THE REMNANTS OF MOST OF THE SURVIVORS IN THE AREA. THEY WANTED TO THANK US FOR OUR PART IN GETTING RID OF THE ZOMBIES AS WELL AS HEAR NEWS FROM THE "OUTSIDE WORLD." THEY'D BEEN CUT OFF FROM ANY NEWS FOR OVER TWO MONTHS.

BY THE TIME WE SHARED INFO WITH THEM, WORKED OUT A POTENTIAL TRADE AGREEMENT FOR THE FUTURE, AND CLEANED UP THE MESS OUR VEHICLES HAD BECOME, IT WAS TOO LATE TO HEAD DOWN THE ROAD TOO MUCH FURTHER. THE CHIEFLAND ENCLAVE WARNED US THAT RAIDERS ARE MOST FREQUENT IN THE EARLY MORNING HOURS AND RIGHT FULL DARK AND OFTEN COME IN ACTING LIKE REFUGEES. THEIR GROUP FELL FOR THAT TWICE AND PAID DEARLY, NOW THEY WERE VERY CAREFUL AND EVEN CLEANED OUT A RAIDER PARTY A FEWS WEEKS PRIOR THAT HAD BEEN PREYING ON SMALL HOMESTEADS STILL SURVIVING OUT IN THE COUNTRYSIDE. IN ADDITION THEY HELPED US TO SCAVENGE A NEW RADIO. IT WAS A HUGE RELIEF TO BE ABLE TO CHECK IN WITH SANCTUARY. NOT AS BIG A RELIEF AS IT WAS TO ACTUALLY MAKE IT HOME, BUT HEARING THE VOICES FROM HOME DEFINITELY HELPED US TREMENDOUSLY. WE WERE AS WORRIED ABOUT SANCTUARY AS SANCTUARY WAS WORRIED ABOUT US.

VENISON STEW AND WINTER GREENS WAS OUR DINNER … AND THE LEFTOVERS WERE OUR BREAKFAST THE NEXT DAY. CAN'T SAY I'VE EVER HAD GREENS FOR BREAKFAST BUT IT DEFINITELY PUT US ON THE ROAD WITH A FULL STOMACH.

FROM CHIEFLAND WE TOOK US19 SOUTH. TALK ABOUT A MESS AND A HALF. ABOUT A MILE OUTSIDE OF CHIEFLAND THE ROAD STARTED TO GET AS CLOGGED AS IT HAD BEEN ON THE INTERSTATE. DAMN, IT WAS IRRITATING; WE WERE DRIVING SLOWER IN SOME RESPECTS THAN WE HAD BEFORE. IF WE WENT TOO FAST THE CONVOY GOT STRUNG OUT TRYING TO NAVIGATE ALL OF THE STALLS AND CRASHES. TOO SLOW AND THE LAST PERSON IN LINE WOULD BARELY CRAWL ALONG.

OUR FIRST REAL TEST WAS THE INTERSECTION OF US19 AND CR24 AT OTTER CREEK. THERE WAS A SOLID LINE OF TRAFFIC ALL FOUR WAYS. ANGUS HAD TO USE THE LIFT ON THE FRONT OF JUICER TO "TOSS" CARS OVER AND OUT OF OUR WAY. NEXT WAS THE INTERSECTIONS AT YANKEETOWN AND INGLIS. BY THE TIME WE GOT TO CR44 WE WERE ALL EXHAUSTED AND STRESSED OUT. IT WAS THE TOWN OF CRYSTAL RIVER AND IT WAS AS GOOD A PLACE TO STOP AS ANY.

WE STOPPED EARLIER THAN WE REALLY HAD WANTED TO BUT WITH GOOD REASON. ONE, THE NEW FAMILIES NEEDED TIME TO ACCLIMATE TO THIS MODE OF TRAVEL. TWO, SOME OF THE CONVOY MEMBERS WERE REALLY HAVING AN EMOTIONALLY DIFFICULT TIME LEAVING EVERYTHING BEHIND THAT THEY HAD KNOWN. THREE, THE ANIMALS PRACTICALLY DEMANDED THAT WE ADJUST OUR TRAVELLING EXPECTATIONS.

AT DINNER THAT NIGHT I DIDN'T KNOW WHETHER I WAS HUNGRY OR NOT. FOOD WAS GETTING MEAGER ALREADY. I PULLED KEVIN ASIDE AND ASKED HIM IF HE MINDED SHARING THEIR POT IF WE ADDED SOME RATIONS. HE LOOKED SURPRISED THAT WE WOULD EVEN HAVE TO ASK. WHEN I SHOWED UP WITH A COUPLE OF JARS OF STUFF FROM MY INLAWS WE GOT ONTO A DISCUSSION THAT LED THEM TO REALIZE THEY HAD KNOWN MY FATHER IN LAW. REBA PUT IN SHE KNEW MY MOTHER IN LAW FROM SOME SEWING CLUB THEY WERE BOTH IN. IN A WAY I WAS GLAD FOR SISSY THAT SHE'D HAVE SOMEONE TO SHARE MEMORIES WITH. IN ANOTHER WAY IT MADE ME WANT TO AVOID THEM BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT ANY OF THAT BEHIND SISSY'S BACK. THEY SEEMED TO UNDERSTAND AND DIDN'T SAY MUCH.

NO ONE SAID MUCH REALLY. WE WERE ALL TIRED AND THE LITTLE BIT OF ENERGY WE HAD LEFT HAD TO BE DEVOTED TO PUTTING THE ANIMALS TO BED FOR THE NIGHT, FEEDING OURSELVES, CLEANING UP, AND MAKING PLANS FOR THE NEXT DAY.

DIXON AND MCELROY WERE GOING TO SPLIT SHIFTS WITH SOME OF THE OTHER MEN OF THE CONVOY. WE DIDN'T FEEL COMPLETELY CONFIDENT AND WANTED ONE OF US AWAKE AT ALL TIMES. IN THE END ANGUS AND I ALSO PULLED A COUPLE HOURS OF WATCH AS WELL DESPITE THAT FACT THAT WE WOULD BE DRIVING SINGLE AGAIN. THE NIGHT WAS UNEVENTFUL THOUGH WE DID HEAR A BUNCH OF ANIMALS OFF IN THE DISTANCE.

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING ONE OF THE ANIMALS GOT A LOT CLOSER. SOMEHOW A BEAR HAD SLIPPED BETWEEN THE VEHICLES AND COME TO INVESTIGAE THE ANIMAL TRAILER. I THOUGHT THE COWS WERE GOING TO HAVE CORONARIES. THE BEAR WAS HUGE, NOT A BLACK BEAR FOR SURE. MCELROY SAID IT LOOKED LIKE A KODIAK.

I KNEW THERE WAS A ZOO CLOSE BY AND I GUESS IT MUST HAVE ESCAPED FROM THERE. NOT A NICE WAY TO WAKE UP. AND THE REACTION OF THE BRADY AND NICHOLSON FAMILIES WORRIED ME EVEN MORE. THESE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE SOLID RURAL FOLK USED TO ANIMALS AND SELF-SUFFICIENCY. APPARENTLY LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE IN LIFE, STEREOTYPES DON'T ALWAYS HOLD UP IN THE LIGHT OF REALITY. THE MORRIS FAMILIES DID FINE AND RILLA ASKED IF WE HAD TROUBLE WITH THE ANIMALS FROM BUSCH GARDENS OR LOWRY PARK. THAT SENT US OFF INTO A MORE DETAILED DISCUSSION OF CONDITIONS IN AND AROUND SANCTUARY. EVERYONE WAS INTERESTED BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW THE NICHOLSONS JUST WEREN'T LISTENING.

WE KEPT EXPLAINING THERE ARE NO SERVICES AT SANCTUARY THAT WE WEREN'T PROVIDING FOR OURSELVES. WE HAVE TO RATION, THERE ARE NO STORES. NO, LIVING AT A GROCERY STORE OR ANY OF THE BIG BOX STORES WASN'T AN OPTION AND MOST PLACES LIKE THAT HAD BEEN CLEANED OUT EVEN BEFORE THE QUARANTINE HAD GONE INTO EFFECT. OUR TWO DOCTORS ARE ACTUALLY MEDICS WHO WERE STUDYING ON THE RUN TO PROVIDE WHAT BASIC MEDICAL CARE THEY COULD. THEY KEPT GLOSSING OVER EVERYTHING, REMEMBERING WHAT THEY WANTED TO HEAR AND IGNORING WHAT THEY DIDN'T WANT TO HEAR.

ONCE WE FINALLY GOT ON THE ROAD WE INCHED ALONG US19, PASSING FIRST THROUGH HOMOSASSA AND THEN TO THE INTERSECTION OF US19 AND US98. THAT WAS THE WORST SNARL YET. IT BEAT EVEN THE AREA IN AND AROUND GAINESVILLE FOR MESS. YOU COULD TELL WE WERE CONSIDERABLY NEARER THE COAST AT THIS POINT AND THAT PEOPLE MUST HAVE USED ALL OF THE EVACUATION ROUTES IN AN ATTEMPT TO GET OUT BEFORE THE MILITARY COMPLETELY LOCKED THE AREA DOWN.

THE BUGS CRAWLING IN AND OUT OF THE CARS WAS BAD BUT PROBABLY NOT AS BAD AS IT HAD BEEN A MONTH OR TWO AGO. YOU COULD TELL WHERE THE OMNIVOROUS ROACHES AND RATS DIDN'T CARE WHETHER IT WAS THE CAR THEY NIBBLED ON OR THE BODIES INSIDE THE CARS. A COUPLE OF THE KIDS LOST IT BUT INTERESTINGLY RILLA SAID IT REMINDED HER A BIT WHEN SHE WAS VERY LITTLE AND HER PARENTS WERE STILL TRAVELING WITH HER FATHER'S EMPLOYER OVER IN ASIA AND THE MICRONESIA AREA OF THE WORLD. SHE SAID THE BUGS WERE REALLY BAD THERE AS WELL AND WESTERN STANDARDS OF SANITARY CONDITIONS WERE PRACTICALLY NON-EXISTENT EXCEPT IN PLACES LIKE HONG KONG AND TAIWAN.

THE YOUNGEST DRIVERS IN THE CONVOY WERE JUST BEAT. WE DECIDED TO PULL OVER AND EAT, ASSUMING WE COULD KEEP THE BUGS OUT OF THINGS, AND DO A LITTLE EXPLORING TO STRETCH OUR LEGS.

THE ROADSIDE BUSINESSES WERE INTERESTNG IN A MACABRE KIND OF WAY. SOME WERE LOOTED AND PRACTICALLY DESTROYED. SOME HAD BEEN PICKED OVER LIKE SOMEONE HAD A SPECIFIC PURPOSE OR ITEM IN MIND THAT THEY WERE LOOKING FOR. HARDLY ANYTHING HELD ANY INTEREST FOR THOSE OF US FROM SANCTUARY BUT EVERYONE ELSE WAS FASCINATED. THIS WAS THE FIRST "BIG CITY" THEY HAD SEEN LIKE THIS OUTSIDE OF NEWS BROADCASTS WHEN THE TV WAS STILL WORKING.

WE DIDN'T STAY THERE LONG. I FOUND IT DEPRESSING. SO DID MR. MORRIS AND HIS ADULT SON KEVIN. I LIKED THE MORRIS FAMILIES MORE AND MORE AS I GOT TO KNOW THEM. IN THE BUSINESS I WAS IN YOU HAD TO LEARN TO MAKE QUICK JUDGEMENTS OF PEOPLE'S CHARACTER. SOMETIMES I WAS WRONG BUT MOST OF THE TIME I WAS RIGHT AND MY SPIDEY SENSES WERE TELLING ME THAT THE MORRIS FAMILIES WERE GOOD PEOPLE. THEY WERE LEVEL-HEADED, DIDN'T PANIC, TOOK THEIR RESPONSIBILITIES SERIOUSLY, AND WERE VERY READY TO DO THEIR SHARE AND THEN SOME. WHAT MORE CAN YOU ASK OF A NEIGHBOR?

I TOLD DIXON THAT NIGHT THAT I WAS POSITIVE ABOUT THE MORRIS FAMILIES, WOULD ACCEPT THE BRADY FAMILY, BUT THAT I STILL HAD A PROBLEM WITH SOME OF THE WAYS THE NICHOLSONS OPERATED. ALL FOUR OF US MEN HAD THE SAME OPINION. THE SNAG WAS THAT IF WE DIDN'T TAKE THE NICHOLSONS WE COULD LOSE ALL FOUR FAMILIES. THE MORRIS FAMILY HAD THE FARMING AND ANIMAL CARE EXPERIENCE AS WELL AS SOME STONE MASONRY SKILLS. THE NICHOLSON AND BRADY FAMILIES HAD SOME ELECTRONICS AND METALWORKING SKILLS.

THE QUANDRY WAS DID WE TAKE IN A FAMILY THAT WE HAD A FEW PROBLEMS WITH, HOPING THAT IN TIME THEY WOULD ACCLIMATE TO OUR WAY OF DOING THINGS? DID IT MAKE IT EASIER TO MAKE THAT DECISION SINCE THEY HAD SKILLS WE NEEDED AT SANCTUARY? OF COURSE IN THE END ALL OF OUR CONCERN WAS MOOT SINCE THEY DIDN'T COME HOME WITH US BUT WE COULD VERY WELL RUN INTO THAT VERY SAME SCENARIO. IT WOULD BE BETTER TO IRON OUT OUR DECISION MAKING PROCESS AHEAD OF TIME.

ONCE WE MADE IT THROUGH THAT INTERSECTION WE ALMOST GOT LOCKED UP AT THE INTERSECTION OF US19 AND SR50. IT WAS SO BAD AROUND THERE WE DECIDED TO SIMPLY PARK FOR THE NIGHT. WE PULLED INTO WEEKI WACHEE SPRINGS PARK AND THAT'S WHERE WE STAYED FOR THE NIGHT. THE BIG DEBATE WAS WHETHER WE WOULD KEEP GOING ON US19 AS PLANNED, REGARDLESS OF THE TRAFFIC, OR WOULD WE TURN EAST ON SR50 AND GO TO BROOKSVILLE AND PICK UP US41 AND TAKE IT HOME. I WAS SO TEMPTED TO JUST SAY SCREW IT AND HEAD STRAIGHT FOR HOME. WE DECIDED TO SLEEP ON IT AND SEE HOW WE FELT IN THE MORNING AFTER HOPEFULLY A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP.


	92. Day 137

**Day 137 (Friday, December 15th)**

Today has been one of those perfect Florida winter days; low humidity, in the low 70s with not a cloud in the cerulean blue sky. I opened every window in our house and aired it out. I also thought it was as good a time as any to air all the bedding including the mattresses. Scott wanted to know where I had gotten all the energy from and I put it down to him being home and things going well for a change. I wasn't the only one feeling good and frisky either.

You will never guess what I saw. I was beginning to wonder if he was even into girls though I should probably slap my mouth for even thinking it was any of my business. I was minding my own business, blundering along through the orange grove easy as you please and then BAM! I hear, "Oh Henry, oh Henry!" and bizarrely all I can think about is the candy bar. But when I turned the corner that thought was knocked right out of my head. McElroy and Rhonda were all over each other like a fly and sticky paper.

Poor McElroy. He had been caught with his pants down … literally. Well, have you ever been so embarrassed all you could do was laugh? I think all three of us laughed more than we had in weeks. Those two are obviously happy with what they've found; and I mean the relationship though the other stuff seems to be working for them too. The only thing they asked was that I not make a big deal out of it. They were taking it "slow" and didn't want to make things harder on Dixon and Rachel by being all happy and obvious.

I told them if that was their idea of slow that I'd hate to see their definition of fast. We all had another laugh at that but I really did understand. I told Scott and after he was done laughing he said that the two of them had hit it off right from the start. McElroy's own mom was a single mother and he knew not all single moms deserved the rep that society sometimes gave them. Rhonda had been engaged before she got pregnant but they had put their wedding on hold until after he finished his education. She told me, "I'll be honest. I was beginning to wonder if he went to New York to get away. He wasn't real happy that I wouldn't get an abortion and said some pretty nasty things before he left. He wanted a paternity test and all this other stuff. Well, he's gone now and I want to be happy. I want this baby to have a male role model he or she can look up to. Who'd a thought the zombies would take away everything I had and give me the one thing I didn't."

There isn't much you can say to something like that. They were right however, they needed time to work it out between them. I had a feeling Rachel might get a little testy once she found out. That can't take long, after all she is our OB/gyn. Common courtesy and a real desire not to see Rachel and Dixon hurt is a noble thought. However, I am beginning to get faintly annoyed that we put reasonable expression of joy in life on hold just to avoid hurting them. How long are we going to pussy foot around? People covered for them rather than see a resolution of their love triangle with Patricia. Now that it is resolved – and only because Patricia herself decided to take the initiative – who are we supposed to be protecting them from? Each other? That's warped.

Dixon seems more at ease than he did before the north Florida run. I'm wondering if seeing the scope of the NRS disaster has helped him come to terms with the changes in his life. Maybe Rachel should go on more runs. She's been insulated inside Sanctuary for a while. I would hate for anything to happen to her, we need her, but at the same time she isn't going to do anyone any good – especially not herself – if she can't get a grip on the personal and societal changes we all are having to learn to live with.

In addition to all my cleaning I canned 21 quarts of orange juice and 14 quarts of tangerine juice. I'm hoping that the ponderosa lemon tree I found in the backyard of a house about two blocks on the other side of the canal will yield enough lemon juice for at least 30 pints of juice. As big as those lemons are I should get nearly a pint from one lemon alone. The juice will be really great for lemonade this summer, assuming we can find a way to pump cool well water to the surface.

In addition to more canning tomorrow … the oven is going to be hot anyway from it being Baking Day … I want to pull all the dried bean bushes and string them up so that they can finish curing. I want to get them harvested and packaged before the animals find them. We've had an increased problem with animals in the area. They seem to be coming out of the east just like the zombies did. Mr. Morris thinks it may be a result of displacement. The animals from where ever the burned area was pushed into a new habitat. The animals from that habitat were forced out and into a new area. And so on and so forth heading west until they reached us. What I don't like is that they all look scrawny and stressed out like their previous habitat was failing and they've been on the run looking for a new one. If they did indeed come out of the east, what about all the strawberry fields and orange groves in east Hillsborough County, Polk County, etc.? Have they been wiped out? Surely there was something they could have stopped to eat.

James mentioned that a lot of the animals must not be making it because he sees a pretty constant flight of vultures off to the east. Matlock wants to keep an eye on that. Vultures can also be a sign of zombies. We don't think so in this case however because the birds are staying way off to the east and then heading a little south. Zombies normally travel a straight line so long as there isn't anything distracting them.

Jim and Angus made it back to Sanctuary just in time to share our dinner of Chicken Sausage Tandoori; it turned out great by the way. They have not one, but three, of the parts Tarpon Springs wanted. Tomorrow Jim will arrange a meeting with the Tarpon Springs enclave leaders after trade terms have been agreed upon. Angus says he's interested in seeing the deal through to the end so will be Jim's transportation and back up.

Johnnie and Bubby were my partners again when I went outside the Wall today. Maybe Scott was right and that giving them as much work as they can handle for a while is what they needed to re-instill discipline for them. Their mischievousness isn't gone – that's not what we wanted – but they are learning when it is appropriate behavior and when it is not. We don't want to crush their spirit, we just need to channel it into more constructive outlets. The threat of extra chores is enough to bring them back in line these days. Their "play time" is a valuable commodity that they don't want to lose as they have to work so hard to earn it.

Boy will I be glad when the days get longer. Not because I'll be able to do more work although that is a consideration. No, I'll just be thankful for more actual light. The artificial light from solar or candles is OK but is still limiting. I can't get much reading done any more. I need to re-read books like An Encyclopedia of Country Living by Carla Emry, the Foxfire book series, the Reader's Digest book Back to Basics. I also have a huge stack of books to read the first time around like Urban Homesteading, several recipe books and a couple of Florida pioneer journals Brandon brought back from the downtown library.

The pole wall added a bunch more sections today. Now that they have their assembly process down, so long as they have a supply of telephone poles cut and ready Scott thinks they'll be able to manufacture and install up to ten sections a day; maybe more. That's assuming they don't hit any glitches. They had to cut through some roots today and that slowed them down a bit until they found a sharp limb trimmer.

I'd like to finish her and crawl in bed but I need to get ready to take a watch on the Wall. Tonight I'll be at the guard tower near the rear gate. As tired as I am I'll need to drink a gallon of tea to keep me wide awake.

SCOTT'S VERSION OF THE NORTH FLORIDA RUN (PART 5 - FINAL)

THE NEXT MORNING AFTER WE GOT UP I BASICALLY RECUSED MYSELF FROM THE DECISION OF WHETHER TO CONTINUE ON US19 OR TO MOVE ONTO CR50. I COULDN'T MAKE AN OBJECTIVE DECISION FOR THE GROUP; I WANTED MY WIFE AND KIDS SO BAD I HARD A HARD TIME STANDING IT.

DURING NORMAL TIMES I HAD NO PROBLEM BEING AWAY FORM HOME A WEEK OR THREE AT A TIME. SURE I MISSED THEM BUT IT WAS A NORMAL THING YOU FEEL WHEN YOU LIKE SOMEONE AND AREN'T WITH THEM FOR A WHILE. JAMES AND I WENT ON SEVERAL HIGH ADVENTURE VACATIONS AS HE WAS GROWING UP AND I HAD PLANNED ON DOING THE SAME THINGS WITH JOHNNIE. I'VE EVEN TAKEN THE GIRLS ON ADVENTURESOME OUTINGS WITH NO HYSTERICS FROM ANYONE. NOW EVERY DAY EXISTENCE CAN BE HIGH ADVENTURE. YOU DON'T HAVE TO LEAVE TO GET YOUR ADRENALINE RUSH, IT COMES TO YOU WHETHER YOU WANT IT OR NOT. AND YOU NEVER KNOW IF THE LAST TIME YOU SEE SOMEONE WILL BE THE LAST TIME YOU EVER GET TO SEE THEM.

I WENT OVER TO THE WEEKI WACHEE GIFT SHOP AND SNACK BAR AREA WHILE THEY DISCUSSED THINGS SO I COULDN'T BE ACCUSED OF UNDULY INFLUENCING ANYONE. BOTH SHOPS WERE PRETTY WELL WORKED OVER BUT I DID PICK UP SOME BOOKS FOR THE KIDS. THE LOOTERS ALSO MISSED A STORAGE CLOSET THAT HELD SEVERAL CASES OF INDIVIDUALLY PACKAGED BAGS OF POTATO CHIPS AND THREE CASES OF COFFEE, CREAMER AND THE LIKE. I WAS PUSHING EVERYTHING BACK TO THE SEMI IN A WHEEL BARROW WHEN I FOUND OUT WHAT OUR ROUTE WOULD BE. THE DECISION WAS MADE TO CONTINUE ON US19.

WE GOT ON THE ROAD QUICKLY AFTER THAT. DIXON CAME OVER BEFORE WE PULLED OUT TO MAKE SURE I REALLY WAS OK WITH THE DECISION. I SAID SURE BUT ADMITTED I REALLY DIDN'T WANT ANY MORE DELAYS IF WE COULD HELP IT.

MY REASONS WEREN'T JUST BECAUSE I MISSED MY FAMILY. FUEL WAS GOING TO BE A PROBLEM SHORTLY. WE TRIED SIPHONING FUEL FROM SEVERAL OF THE STALLED CARS BUT THE TANKS WERE BONE DRY. EITHER THEY HAD RUN OUT OF GAS AND HAD BEEN ABANDONED WHERE WE FOUND THEM OR SOMEONE ELSE HAD GOTTEN TO THEM FIRST; PROBABLY A MIXTURE OF BOTH.

THE NEXT PROBLEM WAS REALLY TWO-FOLD; FOOD AND WATER. NEAR THE COAST THERE IS PLENTY OF WATER BUT ITS SALTY. OUR WATER FILTERS AREN'T DESIGNED FOR DESALINATION. THERE WERE SOME FRESH WATER SOURCES BUT THEY WERE FULL OF ALGAE AND CLOGGED THE INTAKES OF THE FILTERS. I WAS GLAD WE HAD FILLED ALL THE CONTAINERS WE COULD BACK IN CRYSTAL RIVER BECAUSE WE HADN'T FOUND A GOOD SOURCE OF WATER SINCE THAT STOP. WE HAD BEGUN TO RATION WATER FOR BOTH HUMANS AND ANIMALS. THE COWS WERE STILL MAKING MILK SO THAT HELPED SOME.

WHILE EVERYONE ELSE LOADED UP ON COFFEE, I DRANK MILK TO KEEP THE HUNGER UNDER CONTROL. WE WEREN'T STARVING BUT WE WERE RATIONING FOOD AS WELL AND BEING CAREFUL TO MAXIMIZE EVERYTHING THAT WE DID USE. THERE WAS MORE FOOD PACKED SOMEPLACE IN THE SEMI BUT I HATED THE IDEA OF STOPPING TO DIG FOR IT. THAT COULD HAVE ADDED A HALF-DAY OR MORE TO OUR TRAVEL TIME. NOMRALLY WE COULD HAVE FOUND SOMETHING IN THE HOMES AND BUSINESSES OFF THE ROADS WE TRAVELLED, BUT NOT THIS TIME. I CONTINUED TO BE ASTONISHED AT HOW PICKED OVER EVERYTHING WAS ALONG THE COAST, YET WE HADN'T SEEN A SINGLE LIVE PERSON SINCE CHIEFLAND. THE VEHICLES ALONG THE ROAD WERE EMPTY OF USABLE ITEMS AS WELL.

WE DROVE THROUGH HUDSON AND THEN INTO BAYONET POINT WHICH WAS RIGHT ON THE COAST AT US19 AND SR52. THAT WAS ANOTHER INTERSECTION FROM HELL. NOT ONLY THAT BUT WE COULD HAVE TAKEN SR52 TO GET TO US41. I TRIED TO STAY FOCUSED ON OUR PLAN. TONY DUNGY ALWAYS SAID, "DEVIATING FROM YOUR GAME PLAN IS A SIGN OF PANIC." PANIC IS NEVER GOOD SO I AVOID EVEN THE APPEARANCE OF IT WHEN I CAN. I MAY HAVE GRITTED MY TEETH WHILE I PASSED THE TURN OFF BUT I DID ACCEPT IT.

IN BAYONET POINT IT LOOKED LIKE SOMETHING BESIDES ZOMBIES AND LOOTING HAD OCCURRED. THERE WAS A LOT OF DESTRUCTION, BUT NOT THE KIND YOU WOULD SEE FROM A RAGING WILDFIRE. THIS DAMAGE REMINDED ME OF OLD WW2 PHOTOS. SEVERAL HOMES WOULD BE NEARLY DESTROYED WITH COLLAPSED WALLS AND ROOF AND THEN THERE WOULD BE A COUPLE OF HOUSES WITH HARDLY ANY DAMAGE AT ALL.

WE HAD STOPPED FOR A MOMENT TO GIVE ANGUS A CHANCE TO BREAK THROUGH A TRAFFIC SNARL. DIXON RAN BACK TO ME AND THAT'S WHEN I FOUND OUT THE LIKELY REASON THINGS LOOKED THE WAY THEY DID; HEAVY WEAPONS FIRE OF SOME TYPE. WE WERE SO CLOSE TO THE WATER, NOT EVEN 100 YARDS AWAY, THAT THE ORIGIN OF THE VOLLEYS HAD TO HAVE BEEN SOME TYPE OF WATER CRAFT. WHEN I ASKED HIM COULD IT HAVE BEEN PIRATES HE JUST SHRUGGED; TOO LITTLE DATA FOR HIM TO BE SURE.

FROM THERE WE HEADED INTO PORT RICHEY AND THEN INTO NEW PORT RICHEY. THERE WE RAN INTO A GROUP OF SURVIVORS THAT HAD GOTTEN SURROUNDED BY ZOMBIES. WE DID WHAT WE ALWAYS DO AND USED JUICER TO GET THE PACK OF ZOMBIES DOWN TO A MANAGEABLE NUMBER THAT COULD BE HANDLED BY THE SHOOTERS. ONE OF THESE DAYS WE MAY WIND UP HELPING THE WRONG PEOPLE BUT WITHOUT SOME WAY TO KNOW FOR SURE WE'LL CONTINUE TO TRY AND TAKE THE HIGH ROAD AND MANAGE THE RISK AS BEST WE CAN.

TURNED OUT THE PEOPLE WERE FROM TARPON SPRINGS, A MEDIUM SIZED MUNICIPALITY A LITTLE FURTHER SOUTH. DIXON'S MAIN GOAL FOR THE NORTH FLORIDA RUN HAD BEEN TO DEVELOP RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHER COMMUNITIES; PRIMARILY TRADE AND COMMUNICATION LINES. AFTER THE DEMISE OF HALE HOLLOW ITS BRANCHES AND THE DRISCOLL'S THIS WAS ONLY THE THIRD COMMUNITY GROUP OF SURVIVORS WE HAD DIRECT CONTACT WITH AND SO FAR IT REMAINS THE GEOGRAPHICALLY CLOSEST. AT LEAST THAT WE ARE AWARE OF. WE DIDN'T COUNT MACDILL AS WE ONLY HAD INDIRECT CONTACT WITH THEM.

WITH COMMONSENSE PRECAUTIONS WE ALLOWED THEM TO LEAD US TO THEIR COMPOUND. I CAN'T SAY I'M REAL IMPRESSED. I MEAN THE PLACE LOOKS NICE ON THE SURFACE; QUAINT LITTLE FISHING TOWN SORT OF LOOK. ITS NOT EVEN THAT THERE IS ANYTHING PARTICULARLY WRONG WITH THEIR SET UP, ITS JUST NOT HOW I WOULD DO IT AND ON MINIMAL ACQUAINTANCE I FOUND SEVERAL SHORTCOMINGS THAT COULD BECOME MAJOR ISSUES. RATHER THAN CHOOSING A RESIDENTIAL SETTING FOR THEIR COMPOUND THAT WOULD ALLOW FOR INDIVIDUAL FAMILY UNITS, THEY HAD MOVED INTO THE TOURIST AND COMMERICAL DISTRICT RIGHT ON THE EDGE OF THE SPONGE DOCKS AND LIVED IN CONVERTED OFFICE SPACE FOR THE MOST PART. I SUPPOSE THAT IS JUST HOW THINGS DEVELOPED BUT IT WOULD SEEM TO ME THAT IT LEAVES THEM VULNERABLE TO STORMS AND PIRATES IN ADDITION TO ZOMBIES. NOT TO MENTION THE POTENTIAL FOR SOCIAL UNREST FROM HAVING TOO MANY PEOPLE LIVING TO CRAMMED TOGETHER.

I'M ALSO NOT REAL IMPRESSED WITH THEIR HYGIENE. AT FIRST IT LOOKS LIKE THEY HAVE A GOOD SEPTIC SYSTEM UNTIL YOU REALIZE THAT IT'S FEEDING INTO AN OPEN CESSPOOL NOT TOO FAR FROM THEIR DEFENSIVE PERIMETER. THAT CESSPOOL HAS STARTED RUNNING OFF INTO A STORM DRAIN SYSTEM THAT IN THE OLD DAYS WOULD HAVE OPERATED USING ELECTRIC LIFT STATIONS TO KEEP THINGS FROM BACKING UP. IF THEY EVER DO EXPERIENCE A BACK UP ALONG THIS SYSTEM, THEY COULD HAVE SEWAGE IN THEIR COMPOUND AND THEY WILL ALSO LIKELY RELEASE A BUNCH OF SEWAGE INTO THE GULF ITSELF POISONING A MAJOR SOURCE OF FOOD AND WATER FOR THEIR PEOPLE. INSIDE THEIR COMPOUND THEY HAVE A LARGE COMMUNAL BATHROOM THAT USED TO BE PUBLIC ACCESS BATHROOMS FOR THE TOURISTS. THEY ARE NONE TOO CLEAN EITHER. THEY USE WATER THEY FILL FROM THE DOCK TO FLUSH THE TOILETS AND FOR GENERAL WASHING. AS SOON AS I SAW THIS I COULD HEAR SISSY'S PREDICTIONS OF DOOM. I REMINDED EVERYONE IN OUR GROUP TO USE THE HAND SANITIZER JUGS THAT WALESKI INSISTED ON INSTALLING IN JUICER AND THE AVALANCHE. I DIDN'T WANT TO BRING ANY GERMS BACK TO SANCTUARY THAT COULD MAKE MY KIDS SICK. I GUESS SISSY'S CONSTANT RANTS ON THINGS LIKE CHOLERA, GIARDIA, E. COLI AND HEPATITIS HAD SUNK IN MORE THAN SHE THOUGHT.

THEIR COMMUNITY HAS HAD A FEW BATTLES WITH PIRATES. SO FAR THEY HAVE WON EVERY BATTLE EXCEPT FOR THE VERY FIRST ONE WHICH NEARLY HALVED THE NUMBER OF SURVIVORS IN THEIR GROUP. THEY DO CONTINUE TO DIRECTLY COMPETE WITH THE PIRATES FOR RESOURCES IN THE AREA BUT AGAIN, SO FAR SO GOOD AND THEY'VE WON MORE SKIRMISHES THAN THEY'VE LOST. THEY PROTECT THEIR HARBOR WITH WEAPONS THEY SCAVENGED FROM A COUPLE OF COAST GUARD VESSELS.

I DON'T KNOW IF I WAS ANXIOUS TO GET HOME OR WHAT BUT I JUST COULDN'T RELAX THE WHOLE TIME WE WERE THERE. NO ONE ELSE SEEMED TO SHARE MY FEELINGS. IN FACT WE THOUGHT WE HAD LOST ALL FOUR OF THE NEW FAMILIES TO THE SMOOTH TALKING CHARM OF THE "GOVERNOR" OF THE TARPON SPRINGS ENCLAVE. IN THE END HOWEVER MR. MORRIS SR. WANTED TO CONTINUE ON TO SANCTUARY. I THINK THE BRADY FAMILY MIGHT HAVE CONTINUED ON IF NOT FOR THEIR SON AND THE PRESSURE EXERTED BY THE NICHOLSON FAMILY. THAT'S FINE, SANCTUARY NEEDS PEOPLE WHO ARE COMPLETELY COMMITTED TO ITS SUCCESS, NOT JUST PEOPLE THAT PICK US AS THE LESSER OF TWO EVILS.

KEVIN MORRIS TOLD ME LATER HE DECIDED AGAINST STAYING PRIMARILY BECAUSE HE NOTICED THE YOUNG PEOPLE WERE BEING ALLOWED TO BEHAVE ANY WAY THEY LIKED, NO MATTER HOW DESTRUCTIVE SO LONG AS THEY DID IT OUTSIDE THE COMPOUND. SOME WERE VANDALIZING EVERY BUILDING AROUND, DRINKING, AND WASTING AMMO RATHER THAN DOING ANYTHING CONSTRUCTIVE. A COUPLE OF THE ADULTS WERE PRETTY IRRESPONSIBLE AS WELL AND WERE HANGING OUT WITH AND ENCOURAGING THE KIDS IN THEIR BEHAVIOR. ON THE SURFACE TARPON SPRINGS SEEMS LIKE A NICE PLACE, BUT THEY'VE GOT SOME PROBLEMS THAT COULD ESCALATE AND GET OUT OF HAND QUICKLY, LIKE AN ACCIDENT WAITING TO HAPPEN.

DINNER AND BREAKFAST THE NEXT MORNING WAS HEAVILY INFLUENCED BY THEIR LIFE ON THE COAST. IT WAS GOOD, BUT RICHER THAN I HAD BEEN USED TO. IT UPSET MY STOMACH ALMOST TO THE POINT THAT I GAVE FOOD POISONING A THOUGHT. I HAD THOUGHT WE WERE GOING TO BE STUCK THERE ANOTHER DAY BUT DIXON SURPRISED ME BY ADMITTING HE TOO WAS BEGINNING TO FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE. THEY ASKED TOO MANY POINTED QUESTIONS ABOUT SANCTUARY'S DEFENSES AND ABOUT THE PEOPLE LIVING THERE AND WHAT SKILLS THEY HAD.

AFTER A QUICK CONSULTAITON THAT INCLUDED THE MORRIS FAMILIES WE DECIDED TO HIT THE ROAD AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. QUICK WAS RELATIVE, BUT WITHOUT THE NICHOLSONS HOLDING US UP IT WAS QUICKER THAN WE HAD MANAGED SINCE THE CONVOY EXPANDED BACK IN TRENTON.

WHEN DIXON BROUGHT UP THE FACT THAT WE WERE LEAVING WE GOT MIXED REACTIONS FROM THE TARPON SPRINGS GROUP. SOME PEOPLE SEEMED GLAD WE WERE GOING, SOME SEEMED LIKE THEY WERE TRYING TO COME UP WITH A WAY TO FORCE US TO STAY, BUT MOST WERE TOO SELF-ABSORBED TO CARE ONE WAY OR ANOTHER. WE TURNED DOWN THEIR OFFER OF AN ESCORT. I CONTINUED TO BE UNCOMFORTABLE UNTIL WE WERE WELL AWAY FROM THE AREA. I FELT AN ITCH ON THE BACK OF MY NECK LIKE SOMEONE WAS WATCHING ME.

NONE OF US WERE ANXIOUS TO BACKTRACK TO SR54 SO I SUGGESTED WE TAKE TARPON SPRINGS ROAD BACK HOME. WE STOPPED FOR A BRIEF REST AT BROOKER CREEK PRESERVE WHERE I RAIDED THE SMALL GIFT SHOP THERE FOR MORE BOOKS AND A FEW SMALL TRINKETS THAT I THOUGHT SISSY MIGHT LIKE FOR THE KIDS.

AFTER BROOKER CREEK THE NARROW TWO-LANE ROAD BECAME VERY CONGESTED. I WAS REALLY GETTING FRUSTRATED. AT THE RATE WE WERE TRAVELLING THERE WAS A REAL POSSIBILITY THAT WE WOULDN'T MAKE IT HOME THAT NIGHT.

FINALLY WE REACHED GUNN HWY AND THEN FROM GUNN WE WENT TO VAN DYKE ROAD. WE WERE PRACTICALLY HOME FREE AT THAT POINT. THEN JUST WHEN I THOUGHT OUR LUCK HAD CHANGED WE RAN INTO A PROBLEM. THERE HAD BEEN SOME KIND OF ALTERCATION AT THE INTERSECTION OF VAN DYKE AND DALE MABRY HWY THAT HADN'T BEEN THERE LAST TIME WE WERE THROUGH. TWO BIG RIGS WERE NOW BLOCKING THE ROADS. ONE WAS JACK KNIFED AND THE OTHER WAS ON ITS SIDE. OUR FUEL WAS GETTING VERY LOW AND IT WASN'T WORTH THE HASSLE OF TRYING TO MOVE THINGS OUT OF OUR WAY.

I COULD HAVE PULLED MY HAIR OUT AND DID CURSE A BLUE STREAK UNTIL I REIGNED IT IN. WE WERE FORCED TO DETOUR A LITTLE NORTH TO PICK UP LAKE FERN ROAD WHICH CUT ACROSS TO US41. WE WERE WITHIN SIGHT OF SANCTUARY WHEN WE FINALLY PULLED ONTO US41 BUT IT WAS GETTING DARK ENOUGH THAT WE HIT OUR HEADLIGHTS.

WE HAD LOST RADIO CONTACT SOME TIME WHEN WE WERE IN TARPON SPRINGS. WE'VE WONDERED SINCE IF IT WASN'T SABOTAGE. DIXON SAID SOMEHOW THE CONNECTION HAD COME LOOSE INSIDE THE RADIO ITSELF. WE HAD POWER BUT NO SIGNAL IN OR OUT. WE DIDN'T NEED THE RADIO THOUGH TO SEE ALL THE EXCITED FACES ON THE WALL AND AT OUR GATE AFTER THEY RECOGNIZED US.

WHAT A WELCOME HOME! I COULD HAVE HELD ONTO MY FAMILY FOR DAYS. WHEN WE EVENTUALLY MADE IT TO BED I HAD THE FIRST GOOD NIGHT SLEEP SINCE WE LEFT.

WOULD I DO IT AGAIN? YEAH, I WOULD. I JUST DON'T WANT TO DO IT AGAIN TOO SOON. I ENJOY THE ADVENTURE OF GETTING OUT AND AWAY AND SEEING SOMETHING BESIDES THE INSIDE OF THE WALLS OF SANCTUARY; BUT TOO MANY THINGS CAN GO WRONG THESE DAYS AND MY RESPONSIBILITIES ARE TOO GREAT. THE RUN WAS IMPORTANT BUT I HAVE TO WEIGH THAT AGAINST THE IMPORTANT JOBS AT HOME.

I KNOW THAT JAMES AND DAVID WOULD STEP INTO MY SHOES BUT IF I CAN GIVE THEM TIME TO GROW MORE AND DO MY BEST NOT TO LEAVE SISSY TO RAISE THE LITTLE ONES BY HERSELF, I OWE IT TO THEM AND TO MYSELF TO DO WHATEVER THAT TAKES. EVEN IF THAT MEANS STICKING CLOSER TO HOME THAN MAYBE I WOULD IF I WAS SINGLE AND FOOTLOOSE AND FANCY FREE. I'M NOT A KID ANYMORE AND SOMETIMES BEING A GROWN UP SUCKS. BUT I WOULDN'T TRADE WHAT I DO HAVE FOR ANYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD.


	93. Day 138

**Day 138 (Baking Day)**

Today wasn't quite as nice as yesterday. It was a little cool but that wasn't a bad thing while I was taking my turn cooking, canning, and baking. Got a lot of that accomplished so I'm feeling pretty good. I love it when I tick off more things on my "to do" list than I expect. Makes me feel all efficient and stuff.

Rachel, who has never been on any of the foodie rotations as far as I can remember, stopped by to lend a hand after she finished morning watch. It was kind of weird to see her there. She is one of "the women" here in Sanctuary but at the same time she isn't. She doesn't do stereotypical "women's work" unless it applies directly to the hospital and Waleski does a bunch of that as well. That sort of sets her apart from the rest of us. If she isn't needed medically she works guard duty or with Dante' on the inventory stuff. She used to go on some of the gathering trips but she hasn't done that in a while.

I didn't know what to make of her being there but I tried to act normally. Patricia certainly seemed to welcome her into things with no problem. She set the tone and the rest of us tried to follow. Mostly Rachel just kind of wandered around, squeezing a few oranges here, stirring a pot there. I'm not sure she knew what she was doing there either. Part of me has lost patience with the drama of it all and part of me is sympathetic. I'm not sure which part of me will win out in the end.

Reading over some of my notes for a research project I did pre-NRS I remembered another way we could extend our flour. Now granted it's not real different from the bean bread I made but it's even higher in nutritional value. It's kind of a take-off on the traditional Ezekiel bread that was very popular in the early conservative survivalist movements and in some early churches. My problem is that I only have a limited amount of the most traditional ingredients. Long term I'll have to substitute here and there and hope for the best.

What I did was combine the following whole grains and ground them in my pedal-power flour mill that David built: 2-1/2 cups hard red wheat, 1-1/2 cups spelt or rye, 1/2 cup barley, 1/4 cup millet, 1/4 cup lentils (green preferred), 2 Tbs. great northern beans, 2 Tbs. red kidney beans, and 2 Tbs. pinto beans. I stirred the resulting flour well to distribute all the ingredients evenly. Then I measured 4 cups lukewarm water, 1 cup honey, and 1/2 cup oil into a large bowl and mixed it together well. To the freshly milled flour I added 2 tsp. salt and 2 Tbs. yeast and then added all of that into the liquids. That whole mess gets stirred for about 10 minutes. This is a batter-type bread and will not form a smooth ball. You may have to knead it just a little to get the last of the dry ingredients into the wet, but it will be messy.

I poured each batch of the dough into greased pans; 2 large loaf pans (10x5x3) or 3 med. loaf pans or 2-9x13 brownie pans. Then I let it rise in a warm place for one hour or until the dough was almost to the top of the pan. You can't let this stuff rise too much or it will over flow the pan while baking. Then we baked the various batches 350 degrees F for 45-50 minutes for loaf pans and 35-40 minutes for brownie pans.

This recipe makes a very sweet, moist, cake-like bread. You can also add fruits and nuts for even more oomph. Combining grains and beans makes a complete protein which is what makes it so nutritious and that is something we are going to really have to keep in mind as time passes and we get away from foods that have been artificially enhanced during their commercial processing. The bread is also very filling and travels pretty well which is a plus.

Jim made contact with the Tarpon Springs group. He and Angus leave tomorrow to meet them at this little town called Elfers on SR54. This will keep them far enough away from Sanctuary's territory that it won't be easy to find us by chance alone.

My garden is hitting a lull. We are beginning to finish up all the salad greens. The dried bush beans have been hung to finish drying on the vines. The only thing that is really still making are collards and some of the winter squash.

Oooooo, I was so mad. I got up this morning and caught bunnies eating one of my patches of squash. Six of those cotton tailed nemesis made it to Betty who dressed them and showed us how to make rabbit sausage. It's another fresh type sausage that will have to be used in the next day or so. And you won't hear me crying over those little fluffy butts either. Argh! I know they serve a purpose in the food chain so I don't want to completely eradicate them but by Jehosephat they better stay out of my gardens or else. Clark, one of Reba's sons said, "Y'all done ever really want to make that woman mad. I know she says she ain't much with a gun but you shoulda seen her pull that pistol Mr. Scott gave her. She looked like one of them girls in the comic books. One shot, one rabbit. 'Course I think two of 'em just gave up and died of heart attacks, but still. I ain't even seen Momma do something like that."

Scott told him, "Hang around son, I've seen her do quite a few amazing things over the years."

Golly, I didn't know whether to kiss the man or hit him. He can be such a tease. Don't ever let anyone say that a man is in his prime in his 20s and 30s. The 40s aren't too bad either dontcha know. And I plan on keeping him fed and happy so his 50s and 60s and beyond should be pretty good too. Wink, wink.

Yeah, I'm feeling fine and frisky myself. The holidays are here. We are all back together. Barring the occasional hiccup things are going pretty smooth. I know things will never be perfect – heck, they weren't perfect before NRS – but compared to how we all started out we've pulled a really nice community practically out of thin air.

I told Scott how much I enjoyed reading the stuff he wrote on the North Florida Run. He admitted that writing was kind of cathartic and gave him a chance to review things and think about what he would change if or when he goes on another run. He knew that my journaling was a major source of "therapy" for me but I don't think he really understood it before. But, I'm not sure this would be something he would use as regularly as I do. He's a list-maker more so than a story-teller.

Tomorrow most of the men are planning on working a half day on the Wall. After that they'll work on pet projects or take the rest of the day off barring any watcher on the Wall assignments. Scott said he'll play with the kids tomorrow afternoon and basically give me a break to do what I want, sans kidlets in tow. Hurray! I love being a mom but every so often I just need some time to myself to recharge. In the morning I plan on taking Johnnie and Bubby and picking some fruit for a big fruit salad to go with dinner. I'm still undecided about whether to go after more lemons tomorrow or wait until next week. I'm not always comfortable going across the canals without back up but I guess we won't be that far away from Sanctuary and I'm taking the cart.

I'll probably take my journal and do a little sketch of the location of the new fruit trees that I found. They are kinda hidden and you have to take a convoluted path around all the overgrowth to hunt them out.

When I told the boys they needed to get to bed a little early I didn't have a speck of trouble with them. What a change from just a month ago. They aren't totally different kids, they can still be stinkers of the highest order, but they are more disciplined which takes away a lot of the worry that I was experiencing over them. And with those two behaving I have less trouble with the little girls who have been watching them closely and imitating all that they do.

Speaking of getting to bed early, that's what I intend on doing for once. My late nights of planning and watch duty has taken the entire toll that I intend to let it for a while. Even with Jim and Angus off the roster we have several extra warm bodies to fill the lists out with. That Clark is a trip but is pretty stable for a young teen. The other Morris kids and their parents also help lighten the load. I like them. They are good solid people. I know they miss their home but I think Kevin said it best when he said, "home isn't always a place; its family and good friends too." That's what Sanctuary is to Scott and I. We've lived in this same house for 13 years but its never felt as much like home as it does now.


	94. Day 139

**Day 139 (The Day from Hell and then some)**

God I am so scared. This day …

Sorry for all the bloody smudges on these pages. I banged my head really badly trying to get us set up in this attic. Stupid nail. It bled like a sonofagun and scared the boys. My poor little boys. They have either passed out from fear or exhaustion. We are surrounded for as far as my eyes can see. I think we are OK for now but I don't know for how long. I've never seen a horde this big or one that has this many ragers in it … and … and other kinds that I've never seen. I don't know what to call them. I can't stop shaking.

To get my head together and to try and come up with a plan I'm going to write down how this horror show started. It will also keep me from wondering if everyone else made it back inside the Wall. I just can't go there right now. Please God, oh please God, I'm begging you let everyone else be OK.

The day started out so promising. It was sunny but a little cool. I'm glad I made the boys wear both their jackets and hoodies now. They didn't want to on top of having to wear their emergency packs but I pulled the Mom rule of either do what I say or stay behind. I kissed Scott goodbye as I had Johnnie and Bubby pile into the cart. We didn't attach the trailer as we didn't plan on doing all that much gathering. I told him we'd only be gone two hours at most, that we were going over to the lemon trees to get some fruit to juice and can.

It was just the boys and I so he made me take the .22 rifle in addition to the Mark III and my ammo bag. I don't know if having all the extra ammo will do any good at this point, but at least we have it if we need it. I also strapped on the machete so we could hack through any overgrowth if we needed to. The winter has killed a lot of it back but it's still there lying like hay in the way of walking. We weren't the only group out. There was the group out bringing down telephone poles, the men putting up the poles, and another group out dismantling a couple of the closest houses so that we can build a gate house onto the rear gate area once the wooden skin reaches around to that point. Those are the only groups I know of for sure. I'm not counting Angus and Jim; I hope they are well out of this and safe where they are at.

We went out of the back gate and made our way over around the canal and to the house where the ponderosa lemon trees are. We stopped here and there to pick a few tangerines and oranges first before pulling down behind the house I had aimed for. As many fruit as I have taken those two trees are still loaded; at least they were, a lot of the fruit has probably been knocked down now.

My two little monkeys were up in the tree pulling fruit for me when the emergency signal started blaring over my little handheld radio. Before I could even pick it up, Dixon is practically screaming for everyone to get inside the gates NOW! Drop what we were doing, don't worry about tools, just move it now! I've never heard that tone in his voice. Never.

I never got a chance to answer, I think we dropped the radio at some point because it is no longer on my belt.

The boys jumped from the tree and we jumped back in the cart and hauled butt. I wasn't panicking yet. I thought there had been an accident and they needed immediate help. It's been one of my worries that a chain or pulley would snap and the telephone poles would come down and hurt someone.

I was up the driveway and out the gate of the house when I saw the first one lurching through bushes. I didn't give it too much thought; there are always zombies wandering around. Any kind of sound attracts them so you have to be on guard all the time. But then there was another, and another, and some of them were doing things they shouldn't have been able to do … like run. Oh crap. My eyes didn't want to believe what they were seeing. I wanted to say that they were survivors running from zombies but survivors aren't disfigured, snarling monsters.

I pulled around the main road leading to the back gate and we would have made it except we were suddenly cut off by three Ragers got between us and the gate. I swerved thinking I would take the long way around to the front gate but I found we were boxed in. I headed for the nearest house when a runner … a freaking RUNNER … came off to my left and tried to grab Bubby. I'm not the worst shot in Sanctuary but I'm far from being one of the best. At that proximity though I couldn't have missed. Driving with one hand, I pulled the Mark III and put a bullet in the Runner's head. Unfortunately the sound drew unwanted attention from several shamblers that were too close for comfort.

Now the panic started to set in. There was no place to go and every turn I made, whether on a street or through a yard, just led to another wall of zombies. When I saw the Ragers is when I started having trouble breathing. I got far enough away from the largest group I could and pulled into the driveway of a house we had cleaned out except for a bit of furniture. The house had an old manual garage door and I lifted it. The blasted thing made so much noise, screeching like a banshee as it went up. Johnnie floored the accelerator and nearly took me out as he ran the cart into the garage and into the hot water tank at the back of the space. I slammed the door down just as a smaller group of zombies figured out our location.

I heard a crash within the house itself and knew that there was nowhere to go but up. I grabbed our packs and thought I'd use the ladder hanging on the garage to climb up onto the roof but at that moment a big bastard zombie broke the glass on the garage's back door. I looked up to pray for help and was blessed to see this place had an attic access out in the garage; that was unusual as they are usually only inside the house proper for security reasons.

Instead of the roof I propped the ladder so that we could get into the attic. I sent the boys up the ladder with all three packs and then I grabbed the rifle, the ammo bag, and a bag of some of the fruit we had picked and went up the ladder as well. I had my head in the opening when the zombies got the backdoor open and tried to catch me. I had my butt securely in the attic when the first one grabbed the ladder itself and started to CLIMB for ever loving sakes! Zombies don't run. Zombies don't climb. It's against the laws of nature or something.

I had planned to pull the ladder up with us but I had to kick it loose and to the floor of the garage to keep the zombies from following us. Staying back from the opening I grabbed the rifle thinking if they were coordinated enough to climb maybe they would be smart enough to pick it back up and use it.

But no, from what I've seen for the last couple of hours the "smart" ones aren't really smart … their brains may remember how to step and climb but they aren't tool builders. I think it's just an illusion that's encouraged by our fear.

Just to be on the safe side I put the cover back over the opening and pushed a couple of plastic storage tubs on top of it. The only sound in the attic was my wheezing. That startled me as I had expected to hear the boys. I jerked my head around looking for them in the gloom. They were on the very edge of a wooden storage floor that had been nailed down to the beams. Their eyes were huge and I'm afraid they may have been just on the ragged edge of going into shock.

I slowly crawled over to them and wrapped them in my arms. They were both soaking wet; they had urinated on themselves they were so scared. That gave me something I could focus on besides the zombies for a second.

I made them look at me and I told them by whispering close to their ears that they couldn't go off of the wood or they might fall through the ceiling and down into the zombies. Then I had them get out of their wet things. Looking through the plastic storage tubs in the attic I found some old sheets and curtains. I tore the sheets into loin cloths and then had them wrap up in the curtains as best they could so that they could stay warm. Crawling across the beams I hung their wet pants and underwear as far from us as I could. They already smelled really strong and I didn't have enough water to clean them up with.

Water. And thoughts of water led to food. And thoughts of food made me wonder about how long we might be stuck up in this attic. A big thump down below made me jump and I rammed my head into the plywood. A roofing nail caught me and it wasn't a second before I felt blood running down my face. I thought the boys were going to scream but I managed to stop them just in time.

I could have probably used stitches but Rachel and Waleski weren't exactly accessible so I made a pad out of the left over sheet and tied it to the spot on my head that was bleeding. It's OK now but my hair is disgusting.

The lack of light was disturbing. I could barely see what I was doing. There was a fake dormer window on the far side of the attic but it was boarded over. It took me an hour to pry the panel off enough to see out. Then I wished I hadn't.

There were zombies of every imaginable shape, size, and amount of decomposition everywhere. It was a virtual sea from the house's front which faced Sanctuary's direction onward. I could just see the rear gate and could see people on the Wall but I couldn't tell who they were.

The attic was getting stuffy despite it being cool. It didn't help to have the zombies in the house. The smell of rotting corpses overpowered even the smell of mold and mildew, the rotting furniture and carpet that wafted up from below. We were lucky that the insulation wasn't too thick and that it wasn't blown insulation as well. All I needed was for the boys to be breathing that crap in on top of all the potential germs from the zombies.

I used the machete to pry off the part of the ridge vent so that the stuffiness could escape a little faster. Then I had an idea. If I could find a pole, something to stick on the end of the pole, and some way to get that something to stay stuck on the end of the pole I might at least be able to let those on the Wall know where we were at.

I looked around. No poles but I did see some copper tubing that probably ran water to the kitchen once upon a time. It took me a bit of strength, but less than I had supposed, to rip up a good length of this. The "flag" was easy. I used one of the pillow cases that went with the sheets in the storage tubs I had already raided. The boys came out of their catatonic state a little bit as a result of the curiosity about what I was doing. Johnnie asked if I could put something on the sign to let them know we were here. I told him it was a good idea but I didn't have anything that would write big enough for them to read it. Bubby pulled a big marker out of his pocket and gave it to me.

At the time I didn't think to ask what he had planned using it for; I was just happy he had it. The "flag" wasn't that big and I needed to write big enough they could read it. I put "Alive in Attic" and then the numeral three below that. Hopefully they could figure the rest out. I tried to shove the flag and pole out of the ridge vent opening but it wasn't big enough, the copper kept bending and I was afraid it would break. I didn't want to break the glass of the dormer window because I knew it was going to get cold and that window was one of our few protections from the elements. That left me to try and take off the round roof louver vent. I got lucky and there was a little bit of wood rot around the flashing that held down the vent in place. It only took me 45 minutes to get it disconnected enough that I could put our flag up through the resulting hole. I stuffed some insulation up into the vent to hold the pole in place and then went over to the dormer window to see when, or if, they noticed.

Fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes later there was a commotion on the Wall that faces our position. I'm nearly certain that they've seen it, but it is getting dark and there is nothing they can do for now. The boys finally crashed and burned after I had them eat an orange and a Clif bar from our emergency supplies. They are side-by-side as close as they can get to each other. Shortly I'll go over and add my body warmth to theirs but I want to keep watch a little longer.

Water won't be a problem so long as our fruit holds out. We also have three canteens mostly full of water. I have a few ideas if we get desperate but it's getting too dark to write them down. I wish they would have hung a sign over the Wall to let me know something. I just want to know that everyone else is OK. I can only imagine the state Scott must be in. I'm borderline crazy myself. Every bump against the house, inside or out, stretches my nerves just a little more. It's not just the cold that is making my handwriting so shaky.

I made a little chamber pot that we can use. I dump it out through a bit of broken soffit on the opposite end of the house from where we are. The smell is overwhelming enough without adding our own to it.

It's gotten so cold. All three of us are shivering. I've made a little tent out of what little bit I could find and the boys also have their reflector blankets from their emergency packs. We aren't used to this exposure and with no way of knowing how cold it might get I can't do much more than I have except continue to pray.

The last of the light is fading so I'm going to have to stop writing. Besides my head is killing me. It still feels like there is a nail in my scalp even though I can't feel anything.

God, please don't let anything happen to my little boys.


	95. Day 140

**Day 140 - Trapped Day 2 (Dec 18)**

Today is Monday. Excuse the sour tone of this entry, I'm not feeling all that great. We are still stuck in this attic. My boys have tried really, really hard to be good but they are barely five years old. It's hard for little fellas to stay quiet all the time, not squirm, not be kids.

It doesn't help that I didn't really sleep all that much last night. I catnapped but I kept waking up cold or because some zombie would start banging into stuff down below. I finally fell asleep good and hard when something … I guess a Rager … got in the house. It must have turned over the refrigerator and it sounded like it tore off the stove door as well. I know it must have torn up a few walls and thrown furniture around before slamming out a window. After we heard the breaking glass things went back to "normal." Or at least as normal as it gets when you have several dozen zombies wandering aimlessly in a house.

Of course that woke up the boys and I had to figure out what to do for them. Breakfast consisted of a piece of fruit and a granola bar. That didn't hold them for long. I just had a piece of fruit. For lunch/dinner I found a hot place where the dormer window sent down a stream of intense sunlight. It only made the water lukewarm but it's all I figure out to do. I dumped a packet of instant broth in there and mixed it up as best I could. It took a long time to dissolve but I got most of the gritty flavor out of it. The boys drank it without complaint so I know they were hungry. To keep their hunger and thirst at bay I let the boys eat fruit whenever they wanted. They took a long nap in the middle of the day in a pool of sunshine and looked like two angels, one blonde and one dark-headed.

Early this morning Sanctuary figured out a way to give us information. They had a big piece of painted siding and they must have been using chalk to write on it. We would respond by wiggling the flag back and forth. First off, no deaths and everyone is accounted for; however, we aren't the only ones that are stuck. J. Paul and McElroy are stuck on a roof just outside of the Wall. As soon as they rescue them they will come for us. Whatever they are planning it didn't happen today. The last note of the day was obviously from Scott.

STAY SAFE  
KEEP HOPE  
BE THERE QUICKEST  
WE LUV U!

Only a couple of times I had to remind the boys to stay quiet as mice. I watched over the boys and tried to play a few quiet games with them but mostly I stood watch. I feel like there is a jackhammer going off in my skull. The wound around the nail puncture is all swollen; I really did it this time. I can't even stand to have my hair up. The boys thought it was weird to see me with my hair down in braids. I never wear it down outside of our bedroom. I have a hard enough time washing it without dragging it through who knows what. When the boys started wanting to count the number of gray hairs I have I gave them the boot and told them to go play quietly in their "tent" with the little plastic cowboys and soldiers they seem to carry perpetually around in their pockets.

Thinking of pockets reminds me that it is Wash Day. I'd give a whole lot for some of that wash water right now. I stink. The boys stink. There is no way I can put them back in those dirty jeans and underwear. They seem to be doing OK in the togas and loincloths that I made for them so I'm not going to say anything. The stink of the zombies crawls over everything. If this goes on much longer I'm going to make masks for the boys and myself. All this eau de decomp that we are breathing can't be healthy.

These zombies are bizarre and I've had little to do but think about them all day. The majority of them are your garden variety zombies. They just wander aimlessly in a pack with no apparent leadership yet they still seem to move in roughly the same direction; kind of like a school of fish. Scott said when they were in Tarpon Springs there was some guy rambling on about how zombies were at least in part responding to lunar cycles. The closer you get to a large body of water that has tides you notice this even more. Scott said he saw this one group of zombies that with every change in the tides the zombies would move in and out almost like waves on the shoreline. Freaky.

Then there are the Ragers. We've seen some of these but never this many at once. Of course this horde is the largest one we've seen. If I had to guess they were proportionally the same as with other hordes but since they do a disproportional amount of damage there just seems to be more of them than there should be.

Next come the Flambé zombies. These injuries these zombies suffer come primarily from some type of fire or burning. There are a lot of them wandering about but not in any particular order. Some of them are so badly burnt they barely qualify as walking skeletons and I haven't a clue how they are still supporting themselves. May aren't, they – or what remains of their body – gets dragged along on skeletal arms. I try and not look too close at these types but for scientific sake I can tell you many have bits of skull showing, compound fractures, missing soft tissue, etc. I try and keep the boys away from the dormer as much as possible because I don't want their little psyches mucked up any more than they already are.

The Shamblers are the extreme end of zombie life, or maybe that should be death. I don't know. Many are in extreme stages of decomposition and/or have extreme physical damage to the body. Many begin to fall out of the "school" of zombies. I mean that they don't follow the group as well. Partly because they've slowed down but I also think because the NRS infected brain itself has reached advanced stages of decomposition and can no longer get signals through its messenger pathways to the rest of the body. These are the zombies you most often see in singles and pairs wandering aimlessly from some unknown point A to some equally unknown point B.

A new variety of zombie is the Runner. Talk about having to rethink all of our protocols for zombie defense. The zombies that we've had experience with up to this point are only quick when they are older than an hour but less than two hours reanimated. Or, the other "quick" zombie would be a Rager. The Runner isn't a Rager. They don't exhibit the same severe, animalistic response that the Ragers do. They are simply able to run … and quickly, at least for a zombie. Most of the Runners that I've seen have few injuries and little decomposition. Once a Runner begins to have the more noticeable signs of decomp they appear to start slowing down. An injury quickly reduces a Runner to a Shambler. They don't seem to have much of an existence, if you want to call it that, except to run. When something trips a Runner up they wallow in seeming confusion until they get back to their feet and get coordinated enough to speed up.

I'm not sure what to call this next zombie. I started to call it a Climber, but that isn't strictly accurate. These zombies, unlike all but the Runners and the Ragers, seem to still have more than a modest amount of coordination. I'm not sure if all zombies are capable of being this way or if something makes these zombies different. Advanced decomposition or injury, especially from the shoulders up, causes this ability to disappear. I have a theory but no real way to see if it is true or not. Whatever the zombies were in life, it involved a repeated physical behavior that became so ingrained in the brain function that death couldn't erase it from the neural pathways. Maybe someone worked out aerobically several times a week or someone took the stairs to their office rather than the elevator. Or I saw a young male zombie throwing rocks … maybe they played baseball when they were alive. I saw another elderly male zombie swinging whatever he had in his hands … maybe he golfed on a more than regular basis. I don't know but it mimics real life enough to freak me the heck out.

There are only a very, very few of the last distinct type of zombie and for that I am eternally grateful. You'd think Ragers would be the worst. Not to me. I'm calling these zombies "Mutants." The NRS appears to have gone cancerous from what little I've been able to observe. The Mutant zombies have growths over part or all of their body. They are also extremely cannibalistic. They seem to thrive on ripping their own kind to shreds and then eating them. I've watched them. They actually hunt their own kind. I've also seen two Mutants "work" together. Now that's scary as all get out. On the other hand, if they are ONLY cannibalistic maybe we don't have anything to worry about. I don't want to take that chance but it is something to think about over time. I have a couple of theories about the Mutants. First, a regular zombie may accidentally bite or eat another zombie. We've witnessed that behavior ourselves. Over a given period of time, the infected flesh of a zombie diet causes the NRS to mutate or be poisoned in some way and the cannibalism and growths are the result of that continued behavior. Theory two is that the NRS virus that the corpse had been infected with was already mutated and the cannibalism is a direct result rather than a byproduct.

Oh for pity sake, what do I know? I'm a freaking house frau whose last day in a college classroom was over 20 years ago.

Why didn't they come today?! Did they just not tell us that the rescue of J. Paul and McElroy was unsuccessful? Was disastrous?

Its cold and I'm freezing. But I'm sweating at the same time. I should be hungry but I'm not. I've eaten a little fruit but my stomach wants to reject everything. I'd rather save the stuff for the boys than have to worry about wasting food and cleaning up my own puke on top of that.

I'm done for the night. Please God, get me through this and keep my little boys safe.


	96. Day 141

**Day 141 – Tuesday (Dec 19) – Trapped Day 3 – All Fall Down**

I'd like to bless this day out with every curse known by the foulest sailor that ever sailed!

[Picture me taking a deep breath and dropping the hysterical drama queen act.] The truth is that no matter how I feel I can't just let it all hang out. I have two impressionable little boys looking to me to be their sole example of how to behave in this dangerous situation. I need to be calm. I need to be cool. I need to be collected. I need to maintain a balance between what is going on and how I'm reacting to it.

Balance, and the lack of it, has been a running theme today. I woke up feeling all grungy and crappy. The boys were out of sorts as well. We were cold, filthy … attics are not exactly the cleanest places on the planet … and hungry. The boys were ravenous and would have eaten the last bit of everything we had if I hadn't been there to stop them. I ate because I needed to keep my energy up, not because I really had any appetite. I have been saving a packet of broth and two granola bars back for the boys and may have to just go ahead and use them up tomorrow. The fruit will last one or two more days at most. Not only that, I caught a rat sniffing around the bag. I'm going to have to catnap during the day so that I can stand guard over the bag tonight. We can't afford to lose any food. I also can't afford for the boys to become rat-bitten. They are going to have to sleep with their shoes and gloves on tonight. I just can't get the picture of some rat nibbling on their little fingers and toes while I'm sleeping out of my head. I'm going to make them sleep with the hoodies up for the same reason.

Without the fruit we were going to be in a major amount of trouble concerning water. Then a little after lunch time it started raining; not heavily but enough that I shoved a quickly-emptied tub under where I had torn off the ridge vent so that I could catch some water. I'm not sure how safe it is to drink without processing it, but finding a balance between dying of thirst or drinking the rainwater and I err on the side of life. We'll just use that water as a last resort.

I can tell the boys' sugar levels are going up and down based on when they eat. They get really wired up and then they tank for a while. It was making me crazy but no worse than usual. Boys will be boys after all. I've played every quiet game I can think of. My brain is completely mush. They've decorated the "floor" that we've been sitting and sleeping on with the marker that Bubby had in his pocket and a couple of crayons that Johnnie had shoved in his pockets. It has roads, mountains, fences for the cowboys to put their "cattle and horses" in, seas with fish and whales, and some really fantastic creatures as well. The one thing neither of them was interested in drawing or including in their art are zombies. I think this was their way of escaping to a place safe from the undead.

The thing that worries me though is that they've taken to sleeping for long periods today. The first day was just a long, exhausted nap in the middle of the day; understandable and expected. Yesterday they catnapped off and on but I didn't think much of that either. Today it's been much more exaggerated. I don't know if it's the lack of real food, effects from constant fear, boredom … I'm not sure, but it scares me. Especially considering how high-energy these two are normally.

I kept wondering when Scott was going to come. They had put the piece of siding up with a message on it but the rain made reading it impossible. It's not that it was raining all that hard, it pretty much stopped after that one big downpour. The stupid dormer fogged up on the outside and had all these water droplets all over it too. It's a false window so I can't exactly open it up and wipe it off.

I was getting so frustrated. I should have known that trying to do anything while I was feeling this way required greater care but I don't guess I'm thinking as clearly as I thought I was. During one of the boys' naps I decided to empty the chamber pot. The temperature started dropping after the rain finally passed through which is making my glasses fog up. And I was just in a pissy mood to be honest. Maybe I should have taken a nap. I was crawling through the rafters with the chamber pot in one hand and using the other hand to help me balance on the ceiling joists. It doesn't take much imagination to figure out what happened.

I was half way to the other end of the house when my foot slipped off of a joist. I tried to grab a rafter to keep my balance but couldn't hold on and keep my full weight from going through the ceiling. I fell forward trying to grab the next set of rafters but couldn't keep myself from cracking the drywall under me. I went through with both feet. Luckily I caught myself one-armed around the ceiling joist but Lord it hurt. My armpit feels like someone shoved a hot poker up in it. My side is also scratched up though I don't think I have any more splinters than the few I picked out.

You have no idea how vulnerable a person feels dangling into a room full of NRS infected zombies only to realize that the only thing on their decomposing brains is having you as their next meal. The boys woke up as I crashed through the ceiling so their screaming was added to the cacophony of noise. I was screaming at them to be quiet and stay where they were which only drew more attention to me. One of the slimy bastards grabbed one of my feet and started pulling. Have mercy, but that hurt. I don't know if one tried to bite me or not; it just burned like a sonofagun. I was doggone lucky there were no Ragers in the house or I would have been toast in seconds.

I kicked the zombie's wrist with my steel-toed work boots that I always wear when I'm outside of the Wall and could hear bones crunch and … things … tear. As soon as it loosened its grip I pulled myself up and out of their reach and lay across the rafters breathing fast and hard. As soon as my heart stopped thumping so hard that it hurt, I crawled back over to the boys as quickly as my bruised and body would let me. I gathered their sobbing little souls into my arms and we all held on to each other for dear life for quite a while. They won't let me more than a few feet from them now without watching me like a hawk. Any sudden movement and they jump and make a grab for me which then makes me jump and feel like I'm falling again.

I took my boot off and didn't see any kind of visible damage to the skin. I didn't think I had been bitten but the visual evidence certainly gave me comfort. But I'm sore. I am really very sore. I've definitely pulled a few things that should not have been pulled. All the unnecessary acrobatics made my headache come back and I must have banged the nail wound at some point because the scab got knocked off and I started bleeding again. Everything is complaining … my body, my mind, and my spirit.

As the sun began to set I noticed an odd thing. It looked like the sunlight was flickering on and off, then on and off, then on and off again. I was pretty groggy but finally woke with a start. I crawled over to the dormer despite the boys' complaints. Someone in Sanctuary was aiming a spotlight right at the dormer. The light nearly blinded me but I finally noticed the board and it said "wave the flag to let us know you are OK." I had the boys wiggle the flag back and forth. I swear I could hear cheering. I know it must have been my imagination but the people on the Wall were jumping up and down.

A moment later they put another sign up that read:

JP HOME MCE STUCK  
TRY AGAIN TOMORROW  
BE SAFE MISS U  
WE LUV U!

Maybe we'll be rescued tomorrow. I don't see how. There are too many zombies. The Ragers are congregating around the Wall and gate areas. I hear someone shooting at them when they get too close but there isn't enough ammo to control this entire horde. I know it might be wishing troubles on other folks, but I wish the horde would just move on and leave us alone. I want to go home. I'm reaching my limit, physically and mentally.

I'm going to try and get one last little nap in before night sets all the way. I've got rat watch for the rest of the night.


	97. Day 142

**Day 142 – Wednesday (Dec 20) – Trapped Day 4**

Just another rotten day in paradise. On top of everything else I think I've got a lousy cold coming on. Couldn't ask for better timing.

It's freezing. This is Florida for pity sake. I held the boys in my arms most of the night to keep them up off of the floor … ceiling … whatever. I wrapped us all up together as much as possible. I really did feel like a mother hen trying to keep her chicks warm under her fluffy feathers. But every time they moved I felt like something was raking my body over the coals. Note to self: if we get back to Sanctuary we must include pain relievers in our emergency packs, at least the adult ones.

The boys slept most of the morning away; not a good sign, but at least they weren't awake and crying for something to eat. When they finally did wake up they were pretty groggy and cold. I had thought of something about the middle of the night and pulled one of the canteens under the covers with us. The water wasn't that warm but it was warm enough to dissolve the instant broth and that's what the boys had for breakfast. Within an hour they were slowly coming back to themselves and started eating fruit again. I welcomed the slow transformation as much as I've despised my slow deterioration through the day.

Every time I cough it hurts. I'm having a hard time focusing as well. I keep losing time. I leaned on the dormer most of the day trying to catch a glimpse of what might be happening in Sanctuary. By late afternoon the boys were ready to sleep for the night. I think something went wrong. No new signs on the Wall. Nothing that I can see. I'm going to bed with the boys. Maybe tomorrow. Please … please tomorrow.


	98. Day 143

Day 143

Im sick. bad sick. Gav mi boys the gronola bars for fod. Showd them watr. Frut all gown. zumbis evrywere. no plase to run. no plase to hyde.

Im scerd that Ill hurt thim whn I die. I tyed me to raftr wit mi belt. Best I can du. Kep boys safe frum me. Showd gun in case bad mom cum bak. Cry an cry. Cant stop but haf to do gud four them. Them cum first.

Scott, wen u reed this I lov u and boys and kiddos. Just two sik and tyrd. Don be mad. Don be sad. Its jus life sometimes. will cee u abuv sum day.

Tak care of all. Luv you  
sisy


	99. Day 144

**Day 144 – Friday – (Dec 22)**

SISSY FINDS SO MUCH COMFORT WRITING IN THIS BOOK OF HERS. MAYBE I WILL TOO. NOT THAT I DESERVE ANY. I SIT HERE IN THIS CHAIR STARING AT HER FACE. SHE'S PALE AS WAX. IF IT WASN'T FOR THE SLIGHT RISE AND FALL OF HER CHEST I WOULDN'T KNOW FOR SURE THAT SHE WAS ALIVE. AND THAT'S MY FAULT. I DIDN'T GET THERE FAST ENOUGH. I WANT SISSY TO READ THIS, TO KNOW WHAT I FELT, TO KNOW THAT I'LL DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO MAKE THIS UP TO HER AND THE BOYS.

I'VE READ WHAT THEY WENT THROUGH UP IN THAT ATTIC AND I FEEL LIKE SUCH A USELESS ASSHOLE. HER LAST CONSCIOUS ACTION WAS TO TRY AND PROTECT US ALL BY TYING HERSELF TO A RAFTER BY RUNNING HER BELT AROUND IT BEFORE REBUCKLING IT. SHE HAD DONE IT SO TIGHT I WOUND UP HAVING TO CUT IT TO GET HER LOOSE. IN HER NOTE SHE TOLD ME NOT TO BE MAD OR SAD. SHE TOLD ME TO GO ON, BUT I CAN'T. I CAN'T STOP FEELING LIKE I LET HER DOWN, HER AND THE BOYS. GOD THIS HURTS SO BAD.

DAMN, DAMN, AND DAMN ALL THESE ROTTEN MOTHER FUCKERS TO HELL AND BACK TEN TIMES OVER! IF I LOSE HER I DON'T KNOW HOW I'LL STAND IT. I KNOW I'M ALREADY HALF CRAZY. WALESKI, DAVID, AND JAMES ARE THE ONLY ONES WITH THE BALLS TO GET NEAR ME FOR ANY LENGTH OF TIME RIGHT NOW. ANGUS AND JIM WERE IN HERE EARLIER BUT THEY ARE BUSTED UP PRETTY BADLY THEMSELVES AND HAVE HAD TO GO LAY DOWN. THE GIRLS ARE TOO SCARED TO DO MUCH MORE THAN EDGE INTO THE ROOM AND SIT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BEDS WHERE SISSY AND THE BOYS LIE SLEEPING. MATLOCK AND DIXON TRIED TO TALK TO ME BUT I JUST CAN'T RIGHT NOW. I'M TOO PISSED OFF. DOESN'T MATTER IF I UNDERSTAND THAT THEY'VE JUST BEEN DOING THE BEST THEY CAN FOR THE GROUP. THAT'S MY WIFE LYING IN THAT BED, NOT THEIRS. EVERYONE ELSE SKITTERS IN AND OUT LIKE THEY ARE AFRAID OF ME NOTICING THEM.

IT WAS A NIGHTMARE ON SUNDAY. IT STARTED OUT SAME AS ALWAYS. WE WERE GETTING THE PALLISADE WALL UP AND MAKING GOOD PROGRESS. THE GUYS BRINGING IN THE TELEPHONE POLES HAD JUST SHOWN UP AND WERE OFF-LOADING THE NEW POLES. MCELROY AND J. PAUL HAD GONE TO GET THE TOW TRUCK TO HELP MOVE A COUPLE OF REALLY LONG POLES AROUND. ALL OF A SUDDEN SAMUEL COMES SCREAMING ACROSS THE COMPOUND HOLLERING FOR HIS DAD. JAMES, STATIONED AT THE REAR GATE, BEGINS SHOOTING FAIRLY QUICKLY USING THE REMINGTON 700P THAT MATLOCK HAD FOUND FOR HIM.

DIXON HAD RUN UP THE TOWER AND THEN STARTED YELLING FOR ALL OF US TO GET IN, TO GET IN RIGHT NOW. HE WAS CALLING EVERYONE ON THE RADIO. IT WAS ALMOST TOO LATE FOR US. WE CLIMBED UP THE WALL BECAUSE ZOMBIES HAD ALREADY REACHED AROUND ON BOTH SIDES OF SANCTUARY AND WERE BEGINNING TO COME OUT OF THE BUSHES AND TREES TO CUT OFF OUR ABILITY TO GET INTO THE FRONT GATE. IT WAS LIKE A TSUNAMI. DAMN BUT I'VE NEVER SEEN A HORDE MOVE SO FAST AND I HOPE NEVER TO SEE IT AGAIN. THEY WERE FAST AS A GROUP AND SOME OF THEM WERE FAST AS INDIVIDUALS TOO. THE FIRST TIME I SAW ONE OF THOSE FREAKY RUNNING ZOMBIES I COULDN'T BELIEVE MY EYES.

WE CLIMBED WITH WHAT TOOLS WE HAD ON US. I USED A COUPLE OF SCREWDRIVERS AND WOULD STAB THEM INTO THE WOOD TO GAIN SOME PURHASE. MATLOCK AND I WERE PUSHING MR. MORRIS AHEAD OF US WHILE HIS SON KEVIN PULLED HIM FROM ABOVE. HANDS REACHED DOWN TO PULL US IN AS SOON AS WE WERE WITHIN ARMS LENGTH OF THEM. WE WERE ALL ON TOP OF THE WALL LOOKING AT ZOMBIES FOR AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE WHEN KEVIN GOES, "MY GOD, BETTY!" HE TEARS OFF DOWN THE TOWER STEPS AND HALF WAY ACROSS THE COMPOUND BEFORE BEING MET BY REBA TELLING HIM THEY WERE OK, BUT THAT BETTY HAD SPRAINED HER ANKLE IN A FALL.

THAT'S WHEN I LOOKED AROUND AND STARTED CALLING FOR SISSY. I NEARLY LOST IT RIGHT THERE; SHE AND THE BOYS WERE NOT IN. I DIDN'T WANT TO BELIEVE IT BUT SHE WOULD HAVE ANSWERED ME IF SHE HAD BEEN WITHIN HEARING. DIXON REALIZED THE PROBLEM AND STARTED CALLING ON THE RADIO. MATLOCK MADE A HEAD COUNT TO ACCOUNT FOR EVERYONE.

THE ZOMBIES WERE STRAINING AT THE GATES AND JERRY AND JACK DROVE TRUCKS IN FRONT OF THE GATES TO ADD SOME WEIGHT TO KEEP THE GATES FROM BEING PUSHED OFF OF THEIR TRACKS. I SCREAMED "NO! THEY'RE STILL OUT THERE! STOP!" BUT NO ONE WAS LISTENING TO ME. DAVID WAS READY TO GO OUTSIDE WITH ME BUT JAMES SCREAMED DOWN FROM THE GATE TOWER, "DAD! DAVID! STOP! YOU'VE GOTTA STOP! MOM WOULD DIE BEFORE SHE'D WANT YOU TO JUST RUN OUT THERE! PLEASE DAD, LOOK WHAT'S OUT THERE FIRST!"

I RAN UP TO THE GATE TOWER AND NEARLY STOPPED BREATHING. THERE WERE ZOMBIES EVERYWHERE. EVERYWHERE! THEY WERE IN, ON, AROUND, UNDER … THINK OF A PREPOSITION AND THAT'S WHERE THE ZOMBIES WERE. WE CALLED AND CALLED ON THE RADIO. I WAS SO PISSED AT THE WORLD BY THEN I COULDN'T STAND TO EVEN LOOK AT ANYONE. I KNOW I WAS SHIT TO PEOPLE BUT I STILL CAN'T CARE VERY MUCH ABOUT IT. I'LL DEAL WITH IT LATER. AFTER SISSY WAKES UP AND TELLS ME SHE FORGIVES ME AND STILL LOVES ME.

DAVID, ROSE AND JAMES MUST HAVE TAKEN CARE OF THE YOUNGER GIRLS. I KNOW PATRICIA WAS THERE TOO. I'M SURE THE OTHER WOMEN WERE LOOKING AFTER THINGS AS WELL; I JUST DON'T REALLY REMEMBER MUCH TO BE HONEST. ALL I SEEMED TO BE ABLE TO FOCUS ON WAS THE FACT THAT THEY WERE OUT THERE AND I WASN'T WITH THEM TO PROTECT THEM.

BEKAH WAS THE ONE WHO CALLED ANGUS AND JIM ON THE BIG RADIO TO LET THEM KNOW ABOUT THE ZOMBIES. I HEARD DANTE' TALKING TO PATRICIA AND HE SAID SHE HAD BEEN CRYING PRETTY HARD AND ANGUS RESPONDED FOR THE ENTIRE WORLD TO HEAR, "DON'T YOU WORRY LITTLE GIRL, UNCLE ANGUS AND UNCLE JIM WILL BE BACK JUST AS QUICK AS WE CAN." GOD BLESS AND KEEP THOSE TOO LUNATICS FOR THE REST OF THEIR DAYS.

SISSY AND THE BOYS WEREN'T THE ONLY ONES STUCK OUT IN HELL AND OUR FAMILY WASN'T THE ONLY ONE SUFFERING. MCELROY AND J. PAUL WERE ALSO MISSING. THINGS FINALLY CALMED DOWN ENOUGH THAT WE COULD GET A RADIO SIGNAL FROM THE MEN. THEY WERE HIDDEN IN A VALLEY OF A ROOF AND AFTER THEY DESCRIBED THE HOUSE WE COULD JUST SEE THEM; THEY WERE MAYBE 75 YARDS FROM THE WALL ON THE OTHER SIDE OF ONE OF THE HOUSES WE WERE DISMANTLING. MCELROY'S KNEE WAS BUSTED UP PRETTY GOOD BUT THEY HAD IT WRAPPED AND HAD STOPPED THE BLEEDING. MR. MORRIS HAD CHEST PAINS BUT MOSTLY HAD JUST BEEN SCARED BAD. NO ONE WAS BITTEN, BUT WE HAD SOME PRETTY GOOD SCARES AND CLOSE CALLS. I KNOW THAT SHOULD HAVE MEANT SOMETHING TO ME AT THE TIME BUT I WAS NUMB.

NO SISSY. NO JOHNNIE OR BUBBY. ALL I COULD HEAR WAS THE ROARING IN MY EARS MOST OF THE TIME. ABOUT MID-AFTERNOON I THINK, I'M SCANNING BACK AND FORTH LOOKING FOR SOME SIGN OF THEM OVER NEAR THE HOUSE WHERE THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE PICKING FRUIT. I KNOW SHE TOLD ME THAT IS WHERE THEY WERE GOING TO BE SO THAT IS WHERE I LOOKED. THEN DAVID AND JAMES WERE SHAKING ME AND POINTING IN A DIFFERENT DIRECTION.

I DIDN'T WANT TO BE BOTHERED UNTIL DAVID FINALLY GOT THROUGH TO ME BY SAYING "LOOK DAMMIT! IT'S A FLAG!" AND PHYSICALLY FORCED ME TO TURN IN THAT DIRECTION. WHILE EVERYONE ELSE IS JUMPING UP AND DOWN AND CHEERING I THINK I MIGHT HAVE NEARLY PASSED OUT. DAVID AND JAMES BOTH SAT ME DOWN IN THE TOWER AND I WOUND UP WITH MY HEAD BETWEEN MY KNEES. I WILL ADMIT I HAD BEGUN TO LOSE HOPE AND TO HAVE IT SLAMMED BACK INTO MY CHEST WAS ALMOST MORE THAN I COULD BEAR. I CAN GIVE A SHIT IF THE OTHER MEN THINK I'M WEAK OR NOT. SISSY IS MY LIFE. SHE WAS THERE FOR ME WHEN EVERYONE ELSE LEFT … MY BEST FRIEND AFTER ONE TOO MANY BEERS DRIVING DRUNK AND HITTING THAT POLE; MY DAD WITH THE HEART ATTACK; MY MOM FROM CANCER; MY ELDERLY AUNT AND UNCLE WHO WERE LIKE SECOND PARENTS; MY OWN SISTER WHO JUST LEFT WITHOUT REASON OR NOTICE FOR PARTS UNKNOWN AFTER OUR PARENTS DIED. AND I COULDN'T SAVE MY WIFE AFTER ALL THE CRAP WE'VE BEEN THROUGH TOGETHER. WHAT A SHITTY WAY TO REPAY HER.

I WAS FEELING RELIEF THAT THEY WERE ALIVE BUT I WAS ALSO EXPERIENCING SHEER TERROR. THERE ARE HUNDREDS, MAYBE THOUSANDS OF ZOMBIES BETWEEN ME AND THEM. WE HAD NO WAY TO GET TO THEM. NONE THAT WEREN'T GUARANTEED SUICIDE. THE ONLY HOPE WE HAD AT THAT POINT WAS THAT AT THE RATE THE ZOMBIES WERE MOVING THROUGH WE THOUGHT THEY WOULD HAVE ALL MOVED ON BY MORNING AND WE'D BE ABLE TO GET THEM OUT OF THE ATTIC THE NEXT DAY. WE DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TIME TO MAKE A SIGN TO LET THEM KNOW THAT WE HAD SEEN THEM, DARK HAD SET IN.

SISSY'S JOURNAL SAYS THAT SHE WAS PRETTY SURE WE HAD SEEN THEIR FLAG BUT I WISH WE HAD PUT A SIGN UP, SOMETHING, TO GIVE HER COMFORT. WE HAD ONE UP BY THE NEXT DAY THOUGH. IT WAS AN OLD PIECE OF SIDING AND ROSE BROUGHT ME THIS BIG CHUNK OF CHALK TO USE TO WRITE ON IT. WE LET THEM KNOW THAT THINGS WERE GOING OK. I COULDN'T TELL THEM I WAS SCARED SPITLESS OR JUST HOW HOPELESS I HAD FELT UPON WAKING TO REALIZE JUST HOW BIG THE HORDE WAS. NO MATTER WHERE WE LOOKED WITH OUR BINOCULARS THERE WAS ZOMBIES FOR AS FAR AS WE COULD SEE. THEY WERE MOVING THROUGH BUT THERE SEEMED TO BE NO END TO THEM, LIKE SOME MASSIVE FLOOD THAT JUST WASN'T RECEEDING. WE'VE SINCE LEARNED THAT THE ZOMBIES WERE MOVING FORWARD BUT ALSO IN A CIRCULAR FASHION, JUST LIKE A HURRICANE, AND WE MUST HAVE BEEN CLOSE TO THE CENTER OF THE HORDE WHICH DISGUISED THE MOTION.

SISSY AND THE BOYS WERE FURTHER AWAY THAN MCELROY AND J. PAUL. THEY ALSO SEEMED, AT THE TIME, TO BE IN A MORE SECURE POSITION THAN THE MEN WERE; J. PAUL AND MCELORY WERE EXPOSED TO THE ELEMENTS AND ONLY HAD THOSE LITTLE SILVER EMERGENCY BLANKETS TO COVER UP WITH. THEY COULDN'T GO IN THE HOUSE BECAUSE IT WAS INFESTED WITH THE ZOMBIES THAT HAD CHASED THEM ONTO THE ROOF ORIGINALLY. THE DECISION WAS MADE TO TRY AND PUT ALL OUR EFFORTS INTO RESCUING THE MEN FIRST. EVEN I THOUGHT SISSY AND THE BOYS WOULD BE OK.

WE RAN THROUGH SEVERAL OPTIONS THAT DAY BUT FINALLY SETTLED ON SECURING A LINE BETWEEN THE TOP OF THE WALL TO THE TOP OF THE HOUSE IN FRONT OF THE GUYS. THEN ONCE WE GOT OVER THERE WE WOULD SECURE A LINE FROM THAT HOUSE, A SINGLE STORY, TO THE HOUSE THAT MCELROY AND J. PAUL WERE ON WHICH WAS A TWO STORY. THEY'D BE ABLE TO USE THE ROPE "DOWNHILL" FROM THE TWO-STORY THEY WERE ON BUT WOULD HAVE TO CLIMB THE ROPE "UPHILL" FROM THE SINGLE STORY TO THE WALL.

IT TOOK US A WHOLE DAY TO SECURE THE ROPE TO THE FIRST HOUSE AND THEN THE DAMN RAIN RUINED OUR TIMELINE. I THINK EVERYONE IN SANCTUARY WAS ON THE RAGGED EDGE BY THEN. ALL WE COULD FOCUS ON WAS GETTING OUR PEOPLE BACK. I WAS SO INVESTED IN BELIEVING THAT IF WE COULD GET MCELROY AND J. PAUL IN THEN WE'D BE ABLE TO GET TO SISSY AND THE BOYS THAT EVERY TIME WE HAD A SETBACK IN THE PLANS TO GET TO THE GUYS IN IT WAS A SETBACK IN MY MIND OF GETTING TO SISSY AND THE BOYS.

CEASE WAS THE ONE THAT VOLUNTEERED TO GO ACROSS THE ROPE FIRST AND MAKE IT SECURE. I THOUGHT MELODY WAS GOING TO PASS OUT SHE WAS SO PALE. ROSE WAS RIGHT THERE With HER. MATLOCK AND DIX HAD WANTED TO GO BUT THEY ARE BOTH BIG MEN. DAVID HAD ALSO VOLUNTEERED BUT MATLOCK AND DIX SAID NO TO THAT. I OVERHEARD JAMES AND DAVID SAYING AFTERWARDS THAT DIX HAD TOLD THEM THAT I WAS IN NO STATE TO LOSE ANYONE ELSE. CEASE WAS NEARLY AS LIGHTWEIGHT AS DAVID PLUS HE HAD SOME EXPERIENCE; HIS LAST TRAINING ASSIGNMENT BEFORE NRS HAD BEEN ON A ROPES COURSE FOR SEARCH AND RESCUE MISSIONS.

CEASE GOT OVER TO THE SINGLE STORY'S ROOF BUT NOT WITHOUT NEARLY GIVING US ALL A HEART ATTACK WHEN HIS SAFETY LINE GOT TANGLED UP AND HE RELEASED IT. HE SECURED THE ROPE FROM THE WALL TO THAT HOUSE WITH SPIKES AND USED EYE-RINGS SCREWED INTO THE DECKING TO SET UP FOR THE NEXT ROPE. WITH THE MEN ON THE ROOF SETTING UP THE ROPE FROM THE SINGLE STORY TO THE TWO STORY HOUSE WAS EASIER; NOT EASY, BUT EASIER. CEASE HAS A HELL OF A THROWING ARM AND IT ONLY TOOK TWO TRYS TO GET THE ROPE FIRMLY INTO J. PAUL'S HANDS. THEY TIED THE ROPE OFF TO THE LARGE CHIMNEY AND J. PAUL AND MCELROY BASICALLY JUST SLID DOWN IT.

J. PAUL'S SLIDE WAS SMOOTH AND HE LANDED GOOD. MCELROY ON THE OTHER HAND COULDN'T CATCH HIMSELF IN TIME AND HIT THE ROOF HARD WITH HIS BAD KNEE. WE COULD HEAR HIM YELL EVEN OVER THE MILLING ABOUT OF THE ZOMBIES. MCELROY SENT CEASE AND J. PAUL BACK TO SANCTUARY. HE WAS IN TOO MUCH PAIN TO TRY FOR THE WALL THAT NIGHT AND DIDN'TWANT THE YOUNGER MEN STAYING JUST TO BABYSIT HIM. I WAS IN TOO MUCH PAIN TO DO ANYTHING EXCEPT DO MY JOB LIKE AN AUTOMATON AND TO THINK ABOUT SISSY AND THE BOYS.

ROSE GOT IN MY FACE A LITTLE BIT AND MADE ME EAT AND SIT AND CUDDLE WITH THE LITTLE GIRLS. THAT'S WHEN I FOUND OUT THAT PATRICIA HAD BEEN STAYING AT OUR HOUSE AND LOOKING AFTER THE KIDS. WHEN I TRIED TO SAY SOMETHING - GOD KNOWS WHAT - SHE SAID TO LET IT GO. SHE SAID THAT SISSY AND I HAD LOOKED AFTER SAMUEL MORE THAN SHE HAD THERE FOR A WHILE AND SHE WAS GRATEFUL FOR THE CHANCE TO DO SOMETHING USEFUL TO KEEP HER MIND OFF OF THINGS. I KNOW I SHOULD HAVE SAID MORE TO HER BUT I COULDN'T. I KNOW I NEED TO. MAYBE TOMORROW.

THE NEXT DAY WAS DAMN COLD; THE COLDEST DAY WE'VE EXPERIENCED THUS FAR. IN THE BACK OF MY MIND THE WHOLE TIME WAS THAT THIS WAS THE FOURTH DAY THEY HAD BEEN TRAPPED IN THE ATTIC. I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THEIR WATER SITUATION WAS BUT I PRAYED THEY WERE ABLE TO GET SOME OF THE RAINWATER. I KNEW FOOD HAD TO BE A PROBLEM BY THAT POINT TOO. I JUST WANTED THEM TO STAY ALIVE. I WAS SURE WE WERE GOING TO GO AFTER THEM THAT DAY JUST AS SOON AS WE GOT WALESKI IN.

THAT WAS A FEAT; NO IT WAS A FREAKING MIRACLE. THERE WAS NO WAY THAT MCELROY WAS GOING TO BE ABLE TO CROSS THE ROPE BY HIMSELF. IT WASN'T JUST HIS KNEE THAT WAS MESSED UP, HIS HAND WAS CUT UP AND HIS SHOULDER WAS BRUISED TOO. WE RIGGED UP A CHAIR ON A PULLEY SYSTEM AND WERE ABLE TO GET HIM IN ABOUT TWO IN THE AFTERNOON. RIGHT WHEN WE HAD HIM, THE ROPE PULLED LOOSE FROM THE ROOF AND THE CHAIR PLUMMETED INTO THE ZOMBIE HORDE BELOW NEARLY TAKING HIM WITH IT. HE WAS SUFFERING FROM EXPOSURE EVEN MORE THAN THE KNEE INJURY AND RHONDA IS LOOKING AFTER HIM IN ONE OF THE OTHER ROOMS.

I KEPT TRYING TO SEE HOW WE COULD GET TO SISSY. I WANTED A MIRACLE FOR SISSY AND THE BOYS. NOTHING HAD REALLY CHANGED THOUGH. WE HAD TAKEN OUT A LOT OF THE RAGERS AND JAMES GOT DAMN GOOD AT CRIPPLING THE RUNNERS WHEN HE COULD GET A CLEAR SHOT AT THEM. THAT STILL LEFT THOUSANDS UPON THOUSANDS OF THE FREAKS BETWEEN ME AND MY WIFE AND BOYS.

WHEN IT STARTED GETTING LATE IN THE AFTERNOON AND WE STILL HADN'T MADE A MOVE TO REACH THEM I GUESS I STARTED LOSING IT. I DON'T REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT I WAS SAYING. IT'S PRETTY HAZY. I WASN'T IN A PANIC; ALL I CAN REMEMBER IS BEING RAGING PISSED OFF FURIOUS. DIX GOT IN MY FACE AND I DECKED HIM. I DON'T THINK HE THOUGHT I HAD IT IN ME BUT NO ONE AND I MEAN NO ONE GETS BETWEEN ME AND MINE, I DON'T GIVE A DAMN WHO OR WHAT THEY ARE. I THINK PEOPLE FORGET THAT JUST BECAUSE I WORKED IN AN OFFICE FOR A NUMBER OF YEARS DIDN'T MEAN THAT I SAT ON MY ASS THE WHOLE TIME. AND THE LAST COUPLE OF YEARS DOING ALL THE LABOR MYSELF AT THE RENTAL PROPERTIES MADE ME STRONGER THAN I LOOK TOO. NONE OF THEM HAD EVER SEEN ME REALLY LOSE MY TEMPER EITHER. IT'S A PROBLEM I'VE WORKED YEARS ON CONTROLLING BUT RIGHT THEN GOD HELP ME I COULD HAVE KILLED SOMEONE AND NOT GIVEN A DAMN.

JUST THAT SECOND, BEFORE I HAD A REAL CHANCE TO BLOW UP WE ALL HEARD THAT DAMN CONFEDERATE BUGLE HORN THAT ANGUS INSTALLED ON JUICER. THINK OF A VIKING SIZED YANKEE CRAZY MAN DRIVING AROUND IN A GARBAGE TRUCK THAT SOUNDS LIKE THE DUKES OF HAZARD WITH AN EQUALLY CRAZY AUSSIE RIDING SHOTGUN. IT HAS TO BE UNPRECEDENTED IN THE ANNALS OF HISTORY. WE'D LOST RADIO CONTACT WITH THEM SHORTLY AFTER WARNING THEM ABOUT THE ZOMBIES. HE AND JIM HAVE A HELL OF A STORY ALL THEIR OWN TO TELL.

NOW THAT I'VE SEEN THE SHAPE THEY ARE IN I DON'T KNOW HOW THEY DID IT. THEY HAD BEEN DRIVING IN AND OUT OF ZOMBIES FOR OVER 24 HOURS BY THE TIME THEY MADE IT TO THE GATES OF SANCTUARY. THEIR RADIO WAS STILL DOWN - GUNFIGHTS AND ZOMBIES ARE DAMN HARD ON RADIOS - BUT WE DIDN'T NEED TO HEAR THEM. WE COULD SEE THE DEADLY LIGHT OF PURPOSE IN THEIR EYES FROM THE WALL. THEY DROVE ALL THROUGH THAT NIGHT AND INTO THE NEXT DAY USING JUICER TO SQUEEZE EVERY LAST DROP. IT DIDN'T TAKE ANY TIME FOR THEM TO FILL UP THE GARBAGE BIN. THEY'D DRIVE OFF A WAYS DOWN US41 AND DUMP THE LOAD OF BODY PARTS AND THEN THEY'D GET BACK TO IT. WHEN THEY RAN LOW ON FUEL THEY PULLED AS CLOSE TO THE FRONT GATE AS THEY DARED AND WE LOWERED FUEL CANS DOWN TO THEM. APPARENTLY THE HORDE'S MAXIMUM WIDTH WAS ABOUT FIVE MILES; IT ONLY LOOKED LIKE THEY WENT ON FOREVER. THEY DROVE OUT OF THE HORDE, RE-FUELED, AND THEN CONTINUED THROUGH THE NIGHT.

AT FIRST LIGHT THE NEXT MORNING IT DID LOOK LIKE THE POPULATION IMMEDIATELY SURROUNDING SANCTUARY HAD THINNED OUT. JUICER NEEDED ANOTHER REFILL AND THIS TIME FUEL CANS WASN'T THE ONLY THING THAT WENT OVER THE WALL.

I COULDN'T TAKE IT ANY MORE. I WENT OVER WITH THE CANS AND RODE ON TOP OF THE TRUCK CAB UNTIL WE REACHED A REFUELING POINT. MAN THEY WERE MESSED UP. THE DOGS WEREN'T IN THE BEST OF CONDITION EITHER. SEEMS TARPON SPRINGS … WELL … I'LL TELL THAT LATER. DIX HAD STUCK A RADIO IN MY HAND RIGHT BEFORE I WAS GOING OVER AND THAT'S HOW WE KEPT IN CONTACT WITH SANCTUARY FROM THERE ON OUT.

I EXPLAINED WHAT HAD HAPPENED AND ANGUS AND JIM WERE BOTH ON BOARD AND THINKING FAST ON HOW WE COULD GET TO SISSY AND THE BOYS. ANGUS DROVE AROUND TO THE HOUSE WHERE THEY WERE AT. WE CIRCLED THE BLOCK UNTIL WE CAME UP WITH A PLAN AND CLEARED OUT SOME MORE ZOMBIES. IT WAS OBVIOUS WE COULDN'T JUST HOP OUT AND RUN INTO THE HOUSE. THERE WERE ZOMBIES COMING IN AND OUT OF IT ALMOST CONSTANTLY. THERE WAS NO ONE AT THE DORMER WINDOW AND WE WERE WORRIED THAT USING THE HORN WOULD DRAW MORE UNWANTED ATTENTION FROM THE ZOMBIES.

I COULDN'T UNDERSTAND AT THE TIME HOW THEY COULDN'T HEAR THE SOUND OF JUICER AS IT PASSED. I WAS FEELING THE PANIC I HAD FELT WHEN IT TOOK A SPOTLIGHT TO GET THEIR ATTENTION TO GET THEM TO WIGGLE THE FLAG.

FINALLY WE DECIDED TO BACK UP TO THE HOUSE AND I WOULD CLIMB UP TO THE DORMER. ANGUS WAS DRIVING AND TOO BUSTED UP TO CLIMB BUT JIM DIDN'T WANT ME TO GO FIRST … IN CASE SOMETHING HAD HAPPENED … BUT I WAS ADAMANT.

ONCE I GOT UP THERE I COULDN'T SEE MUCH INTO THE GLOOM. I MUST HAVE BEEN BANGING THIRTY SECONDS BEFORE THE BOYS REALIZED I WASN'T A ZOMBIE OR "GHOSTIE" AND STARTED SCREAMING FOR ME. WHEN I ASKED THEM WHERE MOMMY WAS ALL THEY COULD DO WAS CRY AND POINT. I GOT THEM BACK FROM THE WINDOW AND TRIED TO BREAK IT ONLY TO DISCOVER THE FUCKING THING WAS COVERED IN THAT HURRICANE FILM. IT TOOK ME THIRTY MINUTES TO RIP THE FRAME AND SILL OFF ENOUGH TO JUST PULL THE WHOLE DAMN WINDOW OUT AND THROW IT TO THE GROUND. THE SMELL THAT CAME OUT OF THE ATTIC WAS ENOUGH TO MAKE MY EYES WATER. I COULDN'T BELIEVE THEY HAD BEEN SURVIVING IN THESE CONDITIONS.

THE BOYS WERE ALL OVER ME AND TALKING AT ONCE BEFORE THE WINDOW EVEN LANDED ON THE GROUND; JABBERING MORE THAN TALKING. WHEN I SAW SISSY I JUST ABOUT DIED. I MADE THE BOYS STAY PUT AND MOVED VERY SLOWLY OVER TO HER SOFTLY CALLING HER NAME. WHEN SHE DIDN'T RESPOND, TIME NEARLY STOPPED FOR ME UNTIL I NOTICED SHE WAS STILL BREATHING. IT WASN'T GOOD. SHE WAS ALREADY PALE BUT THE COLD WIND THAT WAS NOW WHIPPING THROUGH THE OPEN WINDOW FRAME WAS TURNING HER BLUE. I WRAPPED HER IN MY JACKET AND THEN WENT BACK AND CALLED DOWN TO JIM THAT I WAS GOING TO NEED SOME HELP. MOVING SLOWER THAN HE WANTED TO, JIM CLIMBED UP AND INTO THE WINDOW, GIVING ME A CHANCE TO READ SISSY'S LAST ENTRY. I'LL NEVER GET OVER THAT MOMENT NO MATTER HOW MANY MORE YEARS SISSY AND I HAVE TOGETHER.

WE GOT THE BOYS DOWN INTO THE CAB AND THEN IT TOOK BOTH JIM AND I TO GET SISSY DOWN WITHOUT DROPPING HER. ANGUS CALLED AHEAD TO SANCTUARY THAT WE WOULD BE COMING IN AND TO GET THE GATES CLEARED.

EVERYTHING WAS A BLUR. THE CAB WAS CROWDED WITH FOUR ADULTS, TWO KIDS AND TWO DOGS BUT IT WAS WARM BUT THAT'S WHAT THEY NEEDED. WE HAD TO CLEAR A FEW MORE PASSES OF ZOMBIES AND THEN WE WAITED FOR JAMES AND THE OTHER MEN TO PREPARE TO TAKE OUT ANY ZOMBIES THAT TRIED TO FOLLOW US IN. NO ZOMBIES BREACHED THE WALL BUT DAVID, CLARK, AND SHOT A FEW THAT TRIED TO TAG ALONG ON JUICER AFTER WE MADE IT IN AND THE GATES WERE CLOSED. WE ALSO CAUGHT A SHAMBLER ON THE UNDERCARRIAGE THAT HAD TO BE SANITIZED.

RACHEL AND WALESKI WERE RIGHT THERE AS SOON AS I OPENED THE CAB DOOR. RACHEL TOOK THE BOYS AND WALESKI, WHO HAS TREATED SISSY BEFORE FOR EXHAUSTION DIRECTED ME TO TAKE HER INTO ONE OF THE EXAM ROOMS IN THE HOSPITAL WHEN I REFUSED TO LET HER GO. THE BOYS NEARLY HAD HYSTERICS WHEN THEY WERE BEING SEPARATED FROM SISSY BUT ROSE TOOK THEM IN HAND AND SAID, "MOMMY NEEDS SOME PRIVACY. LET'S GET YOU CLEANED UP SO THAT YOU CAN LOOK AND SMELL ALL NICE FOR HER WHEN SHE WAKES UP." I DON'T KNOW IF THAT WORKED OR IF THEY WERE JUST TOO EXHAUSTED TO DO ANY MORE FIGHTING; I WAS TOO FOCUSED ON SISSY.

THE EXAM SEEMED TO TAKE HOURS. SHE'S DEHYDRATED, SUFFERING FROM EXPOSURE, HAS AN INFECTED HEAD WOUND, IS BADLY BRUISED IN SEVERAL PLACES, MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE A CRACKED RIB OR TWO, PROBABLY HAS SOME SOFT TISSUE INJURIES, AND HER LUNGS ARE CONJESTED. HER FEVER FINALLY SUBSIDED AFTER WE GOT HER REHYDRATED. AFTER WE GOT THE TIMELINE OF EVENTS OUT OF HER JOURNAL WALESKI SAID IT WAS PROBABLY THE FALL THROUGH THE CEILING THAT TIPPED THE BALANCE OUT OF HER FAVOR. SHE MAY HAVE A MINOR CONCUSSION AS WELL THAT MADE HER FEEL NAUSEOUS AND SHE DIDN'T EAT ENOUGH. GIVING HER PORTION OF THE FOOD TO THE BOYS WAS NOBLE, BUT DIDN'T HELP HER CONDITION.

ROSE AND MELODY SPENT OVER AN HOUR WASHING SISSY'S HAIR AND CLEANING OUT THE PUNCTURE WOUND. IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE IT DID ANYTHING TO THE SKULL BUT IT HAD SOME PUSS AND DEBRIS IN IT. THEY'VE CLEANED IT OUT, CUT AWAY SOME OF THE DEAD SKIN, AND STITCHED HER UP. SHE HAS A SMALL BALD SPOT WHERE THEY HAD TO SHAVE HER HEAD. ITS NOT BIG, MAYB 50 CENT PIECE SIZE BUT SHE'S GOING TO HATE IT. I KNOW SISSY, SHE'LL MAKE MORE FUSS OVER THE BALD SPOT THAN SHE WILL ABOUT BEING STUCK IN THE ATTIC ONCE SHE HAS TIME TO THINK ABOUT IT.

THE BOYS ARE ALREADY ON THE MEND AND CALMING DOWN; THOUGH SUDDEN MOVEMENTS, LOUD NOISES, AND TRYING TO SEPARATE THEM FROM SISSY SEND THEM INTO A TEMPORARY PANIC. THOSE EPISODES ARE FEWER AND FARTHER APART AS THE DAY HAS PROGRESSED.

THE ZOMBIES STILL SURROUND SANCTUARY BUT THEY ALSO CONTINUE TO MOVE EAST. JIM EXPLAINED, WHILE ANGUS WAS PITCHING A FIT OVER HAVING RACHEL TRY AND EXAM AND PATCH HIM UP, THAT THE ZOMBIES WERE THE DIVERSION THEY NEEDED TO ESCAPE FROM THEIR OWN ENCOUNTER WITH TROUBLE. THAT MEANS THAT THIS HORDE STRETCHES AT LEAST 20 MILES EAST OF US.

THE HORDE HAS DEFINITELY THINNED OUT BUT WE'LL BE DAYS, POSSIBLY WEEKS, CLEARING OUT THE REMNANTS. WE ARE GOING TO HAVE TO GO HOUSE-BY-HOUSE AGAIN AND CHECK ALL THE SHEDS AND GULLYS FOR ANY THAT ARE STUCK. WE HAVE A WHILE BEFORE WE CAN DO THAT. THERE ARE STILL TOO MANY OUT THERE FOR US TO WASTE AMMO TRYING TO SANITIZE THEM ALL.

GOD PLEASE HELP. THANK YOU FOR GIVING MY FAMILY BACK BUT NOW HELP ME TO HELP SISSY GET BETTER. SHE JUST HAS TO WAKE UP SOON. WALESKI IS GIVING HER WHAT ANTIBIOTICS WE HAVE BUT SHE NEEDS TO BE ABLE TO SIT UP AND MOVE A LITTLE TO LOOSEN THE CRAP IN HER CHEST TO KEEP IT FROM TURNING INTO PNEUMONIA. TAKE FROM ME WHATEVER IT COSTS, JUST PLEASE DON'T TAKE MY WIFE OR CHILDREN FROM ME.


	100. Day 146

**Day 146 – Sunday (Dec 24)**

Merry Christmas Eve from the land of the living. 'Scuse the handwriting, I've been informed that if I'm outside I'm in gloves. Grrr. I hate being told what to do. I would have worn them anyway but telling me I have to makes me want to take them off. I feel contrary and hard headed today.

For you future readers, whoever you might be, you've likely read what has happened the last week. We are OK. It was scary, hard, traumatizing, and just about every other adjective that you can come up with but I refuse to let it control me. We all lived. That was the plan and we succeeded. Johnnie and Bubby won't go near the gates. They'll walk around in our yard, or walk around in Sanctuary as long as they have Scott's or Rose's hands to hold but mostly all they really want to do is play at the foot of where ever I am at. It's definitely going to take some time for the boys to find their feet and their independence again. Maybe a long time, but I hope not.

Right now Scott has me tucked up in a lounge chair just outside our carport. The sun feels so good. I feel like I've been locked up inside a prison for too long. I've got strict orders that I'm not to put a toe on the ground and the boys get to tell on me if I "misbehave." Its driving me slightly nuts to look at all the work that needs to be done and not be able to do anything about it but only in a distant, I'll-think-about-it-more-after-a-nap kind of way.

I'm embarrassed by my last entry but I won't tear it out. That's how it really was. I don't want to forget or gloss over it. Scott was pretty emotional too and it will be a long time, if ever, that he feels comfortable thinking about anyone but me reading his entry. But my journal helps me to remember. One of these days, with God's grace many years from now, one or the other of us really will be alone. That will be when we can go back and read this journal and remember the good times and bad and how full a life we had together. Memories are important. Often it's all we have left.

As for how Scott is dealing with his feelings, I'm pretty much guaranteed to be under his thumb for a while. I can live with it if that is what makes him feel comfortable enough to get over his own trauma. Being the "man of the house" has a lot of perks, but it also takes a heavy toll on a man that takes the position seriously. The way he is right now reminds me of when I had that miscarriage right before I got pregnant with Sarah. I was so sick and we didn't know if we would be able to have any more kids. Then I got pregnant again and right afterwards his mom was diagnosed with cancer. For a protective male I can't imagine anything worse than feeling powerless and no way to stop the bad stuff from happening. If he needs to exert a little more control than normal that's OK. I know he's only doing it because he got such a bad scare and I hope eventually he'll ease up on his own. If he doesn't … well, I'm strong-willed enough to tell him when enough is enough and we'll work it out from there. We always have.

He'll be OK, but it's going to take some time. Matlock and Dixon look like they've been through the ringer too. The three men are dancing around each other a little bit. Patricia told me what happened. I can't believe that Scott actually decked Dix. Well, I mean I can believe he could do it, I just have a hard time visualizing it actually coming to that. Only Dix would be so dense as to get in Scott's face when he was in the middle of a meltdown. Most people would have given him some space.

On the other hand I guess none of them has really seen Scott when he is really, truly in high dudgeon. It normally happens a couple of times a year when he gets really stressed out from work or if there was problems with the business. I guess I hadn't thought much about it until now. I guess he was kinda due. I've had a few meltdowns of my own over the last couple of months. I guess the real surprise is that he didn't blow up before. Sounds like I'm guessing more than knowing way too much these days.

Waleski gave me a bit of a lecture and a good sized warning. He's an OK guy if you can get past the grumpy exterior but I hate lectures, they always make me feel about two years old. I'm off the heavy-duty chore roster for a month! I asked him who he thought was going to do all our laundry and he just shrugged. I swear, typical male of the species. I'm off the roster for going outside of the Wall for at least two weeks and counting as well depending on when the zombies depart. No lifting anything heavier than Kitty for two weeks due to a possible cracked rib or two. If it's below 70 degrees and he catches me without at least a windbreaker on he threatened he'd have Scott put me on house arrest. I have to drink a serving of some form of juice – orange, apple, whatever – at every meal. He ranted on and on but bottom line is that I'm sure I'm going to be chewing horseshoes and spitting nails before I'm "allowed" to do the work I know I'm going to need to do.

Waleski says that with all the physical stress my body has been under lately (and yes that turkey did mention my age which just made me want to kick him that much more) I'm a sitting duck if any kind of virus goes around. I'd like to know who I'm supposed to catch it from? It's not like I'm meeting anyone from other survivor groups. And I sure as heck don't plan on getting within sneezing or kissing distance of any of our zombified visitors; always assuming they are carrying anything other than NRS. OK, so my chest is a little congested. I'll admit that I need to watch that, but at a certain point there is a law of diminishing returns; the more I'm protected, the less good it does me.

I appreciate their concern but I'm not going to sit around on my butt any more than necessary. I've got way too much to do. The gardens are just sitting there. People are harvesting stuff, thank goodness, but no new beds are being prepared for planting. I've got all the drawings done and all I need to do is lay them out and then plant. I want the golf cart back but its stuck in the garage of the house we holed up in.

I need to get some manure tea made and fertilize what is still in the ground. The fallen fruit in the orchard needs to be picked up and tossed into the compost. The compost piles themselves need to be turned and aerated. I need to get some more fruit picked and canned before it too falls off the trees; who knows what the fruit trees outside of Sanctuary are going to look like after this horde finally finishes passing through. No wonder all those animals looked like they were starving to death. The zombies walk on and beat up everything with no regard to the damage they are causing. All the yards right outside our Wall are churned up, sandy messes. They tear bushes and small trees walking through them rather than around them. We've got glass and wood shards all over that are going to have to be dealt with as well where doors and windows, siding and other house materials have been destroyed.

On a good note I used my time this morning to draw plans for a couple of herb gardens. I know it might save some work to just have one huge herb garden but I'm trying not to put all our eggs in one basket. What happens if a garden area fails for some reason? If one fails and there is no back-up we could be in serious trouble. With multiple gardens we have a bit of insurance that if one fails there will still be others. The multiple garden approach also makes it easier to rotate crops to keep from using up all of the nutrients in the sandy soil we have.

There is one thing I just can't seem to get over though. I'm not allowed to help do any of the cooking tonight or tomorrow. I've been cooking Christmas Eve and Christmas Day meals for my family for nearly a quarter of a century. Twenty-five years! Dix and Matlock were even thinking about cancelling Christmas all together. I could have hit both of them myself. I wound up crying and I hate doing that, especially in public. No one died. We are all together. Even Angus and Jim are back and recovering though I'm not sure that we shouldn't sedate them or something. They are as wound up as Johnnie and Bubby ever were. Rachel is going to have a fit if they pull out any more of their stitches doing crazy stuff like working on their still. You should have heard her laying into them this morning, "If I have to sew you two up one more time I swear I will shoot you both in the ass with a butt load of elephant tranquilizer!"

Thankfully, probably because most of us women threatened a revolt if we weren't allowed to go through with our holiday plans, the men backed off and changed their minds. By God there should be some things that are sacred from the effects of the zombies. The kids need some hope for the future. We need some hope. I've spent most of the afternoon watching everyone decorate a Sanctuary Tree ... at least that's what the kids are calling it.

I'm sure some of us are thinking about family and friends that are no longer with us but if those people truly loved us they would want us to survive and get on with the act of living. Traditions, old and new, are part of that. Besides, the zombies are still too numerous outside so it's not like we are going anywhere. I refuse to let NRS win. I've may have to be reconciled to losing some battles here and there, but I refuse to give up the war.

Speaking of not going anywhere, I guess I'm more tired than I thought. I'm ready to go back inside and lay down for a bit. I don't want Scott re-thinking me going to our Sanctuary shindig tonight. I just about ran out of breath trying to talk him into it in the first place.


	101. Day 147

**Day 147 – Monday (Dec 25)- Merry Christmas!**

And I do mean Merry! Oh, I'm exhausted but this has been one of the best days since this whole NRS pandemic started.

I might as well say up front that a lot of us would have to go off for a moment or two and deal with grief issues … missing people we loved, wondering where people were, wondering how people were if they were still alive … but we were also celebrating life.

The kids were at first disappointed that there wasn't anything under the Christmas tree in the house when they woke up. But after they found out that everyone's presents were under the community Christmas tree over at the Dining Hall they were even more excited. Everyone in Sanctuary also had their own stocking with a few trinkets and small gifts in them. The children's stockings ran towards toys, the adults got things that had something to do with a hobby or interest. Most of the grown men got a flask full of something a little stronger than the drinks we kept the punchbowl filled with.

The women and I have been working since our Thanksgiving Celebration to provide fun treats for everyone. We made cookies and fruit cakes and stored them in decorative tins we have been collecting. At first everyone looked cross-eyed and made jokes about the fruit cakes … but then they tasted them. I'm glad we've held a few back. Homemade fruitcake is a totally different animal from the junk you used to buy in the store. Same with the cookies. The peanut butter cookies and the chocolate chip cookies nearly didn't last the day out.

Breakfast was sweet buns and fruit. That held everyone until lunchtime when we had BBQ mutton. One of the goats was just too ornery and was getting dangerous so Mr. Morris decided to cull it from the herd. That is not a trait we want to encourage in future generations, not even the adults could handle it anymore and letting the kids tend the vicious beast was out of the question. It had been years since I'd had BBQ Mutton fresh from the farm. Oh man, it was just like Granddaddy used to fix. After lunch everyone pretty much just grazed the rest of the day.

I had wanted to make the kids some candy last week but obviously life intervened. Since I didn't get to cook I spent a couple of hours today showing the kids how to pull taffy and make their own peppermint candy. I had plenty of adults come by to do it as well. Those recipes really use up our granulated sugar supply. I'll have to figure out substitutes before we do that sort of thing again. I'd love to have our own honey supply and I'm pretty sure I have recipes that use molasses and/or cane syrup for making candy as well. Now all we need to do is find a patch of sugarcane and some beehives.

Christmas presents were utilitarian for the most part. Scott and I gave each one of the girls from Rose down to Kitty (and Melody and Josephine as well) a "hope chest." Scott built them using scrap furniture that we've gathered from around the neighborhood. Each chest is lined with cedar veneer and has a pretty hinged top that we carved and stained. With these chests the girls will be able to begin saving linens and other little things for when they have a home of their own. I started each girl off with a set of pillows that I had embroidered a lace edging onto and a lavender sachet made from dried lavender that I had grown myself last year. I know its old fashioned but Scott and I pretty much lived out of my hope chest the first year we were married.

For David and James I made vests, and I surprised Scott by making one for him as well, I sewed a modified hunting vest. It has lots of pockets for ammo and other gizmos that they might need. It also has a big pocket that they can put snacks or bait in. The little boys got their own vests but I expect them to be filled with rocks, small toys, and who knows what else until they get a little older.

Everyone in Sanctuary had a gift under the tree; no one was left out. There were also private gifts given between friends and lovers in privacy. Scott gave me a picture frame with a picture of all the kids together. I mean all the kids, not just ours but all the kids in Sanctuary. It was a copy of one that Brandon had made during the Thanksgiving Celebration. Each kid had signed their name or drawn a picture on a piece of paper and he put that behind the picture. It took me a bit to control the waterworks. I set it on our dresser.

There were games and activities for all age groups throughout the day. Angus and Jim have settled down a bit and everyone that hadn't heard their whole story yet finally got to hear it while we were sitting around during a lull in the day. I've written it out the best I can. I didn't always get the jokes and laughter, I suspect it's because I'm missing a Y chromosome, but I think I've done a passable job of putting their story down on paper.

 **Angus' and Jim's Story**

Angus and Jim are both gruff and gregarious at the same time. They can also be very dangerous men. I guess these days all survivors can be dangerous but those two have an additional edge about them that sets them apart. A lot depends who they are dealing with.

Neither man has had a problem finding their place amongst the men of Sanctuary; they are liked and well regarded. They are unique position compared to the other men in Sanctuary. They came in singly as opposed to being either part of a biological family group or as part of a combat team. I use to wonder if they might feel like odd-man-out or lonely. They don't appear to feel that way so I try not to worry. Surely both men understand that we've adopted them into our family.

Jim's kinda funny. He has an almost painfully dry sense of humor and his Australian accent melts everyone's hearts. He's certainly a soft touch for the women but in a way that doesn't make any of the other men jealous. It may be a bit romantic of me but I think that's mostly because he still holds out hope for his fiancé wherever she might be; that she is in with a group that will take care of her and keep her safe.

Angus is a pushover with the kids. The teens all look to him to get them into shenanigans that they won't get in trouble too badly for. The little kids though, they really turn Angus to mush. Have you ever seen a Viking at a tea party? That's Angus; huge wooden shelaleigh in one hand, tiny china tea cup in the other. The little kids can talk him into just about anything. I suspect there is a story there as well; but, we all have places that are private when it comes to our past. One of these days Angus may feel comfortable enough sharing that part but until that time I'm more than happy to just let Angus be Angus with all his funny quirks.

I'd heard bits and pieces of "the great battle" every since I woke up in the hospital. Who couldn't help but hear of it with all the kids talking about how Uncle Angus and Uncle Jim fought off a crew of bloodthirsty pirates? Aaaaarrrrrrgggg! I wasn't sure how exaggerated the tale was until Scott told me that the two men had actually been censoring quite a bit of it for the kids' sakes.

They left Sunday morning, the same day that the horde came through but they were hours away by the time the first zombie stumbled out of the bushes. Hindsight is 20/20 and we've begun to wonder about all the lane clearing we've done to make it easier on ourselves; its like a huge sign that says "settlement this way." The clearing did allow the men to reach the little town of Elfers much earlier than planned. In fact they arrived early enough that they got there before the contingent from Tarpon Springs did.

Once the Tarpon Springs group did show up Angus and Jim became uneasy almost immediately. There were several too many vehicles on the Tarpon Springs side. And that group seemed angrily surprised that Angus and Jim had arrived at the rendezvous point ahead of them. There were also a couple of rough types riding in a couple of trucks that seemed out of place. None of the promised trade goods were in evident either.

In retrospect their early arrival probably saved their lives or they could very well have driven into an ambush. The other thing that probably saved their lives was that the Tarpon Springs crowd were more familiar with coastal areas where they could use the Gulf as one of their tools to contain the people they were trying to attack and steal from. The landlocked position they held, and the loss of the element of surprise, considerably deflated their original attack plan.

Another immediate point of irritation was that the man Jim had been negotiating with wasn't there. The excuse was that he had injured himself the previous day and couldn't make the trip. Then the scalawags proceeded to try and renegotiate the trade which truly irritated Jim. The talks were breaking down when the radio squawked to life in Juicer causing everyone to jump. Angus said he knew that there was trouble right off because Bekah would never have been allowed to make such a call if there had been an adult able to. He grabbed the mike and was just able to get Bekah to calm down enough to tell him what was going on.

A young girl's voice called out plaintively over the radio waves, "Uncle Angus, Uncle Jim … I mean Juicer One … come in pllleeeeasee!"

"We're right here little girl. Calm down and tell Uncle Angus what's wrong."

"Uncle Angus there are zombies everywhere and Momma and the boys didn't make it in and Daddy is crazy and things are really really really really bad. Dix said they are headed your way and fast. He said to tell you that it's the biggest horde we've ever seen and to not be heroes and get some place safe!"

Angus used the calmest voice he could and asked, "OK, little bit. Did you say your Mom didn't make it in? Was it the little boys she had with her?"

"Yes sir. And a couple of the grown up men aren't inside either but I didn't hear which ones. Uncle Angus, things are really bad." You could hear the insipient tears in the catch of her voice.

"You sit tight little girl, Uncle Angus and Uncle Jim will be there as quick as we can."

"But Uncle Angus, Dix said ... "

"Don't you worry. You let Uncle Angus worry about ol' Dix. You just know that we'll be there."

When Angus turned to Jim to relay the situation he saw one of the rough types pulling out a Mossberg 500. He made sure his Mauser was in plain sight and he made a point of looking at the one that had pulled the shotgun and could clearly see him take the safety off the Mauser.

Disgusted with the unnecessary show of force Angus said, "Jim, whatever they're trading ain't worth it. Let's roll."

Jim, who had gotten the feeling by that time he was being jerked around said, "Right mate." To the men immediately in front of him he said, "Sorry gentlemen, we don't have time for this. We'll have to get together another day for Anzacs and tea. Right now we have some ankle biters that need us."

As Jim backed away the people from Tarpon Springs made the first move. Thankfully Angus saw the guy in motion and shot him right as he was aiming at Jim. Jim still caught the burn off of the bullet as it went by but the pain only motivated him to move faster and to get into a position where he could retaliate in kind.

After that all hell broke loose. Using Juicer's heavy metal frame as cover they tried to take as many of them out as they could as quickly as they could. I won't include the cussing that Angus and Jim did at this point in their narrative. Suffice it to say that it was colorful, long and included several creative guesses as to the pirates' ancestry and species.

Two men against fourteen; very bad odds. Strike that, the one Angus had got with a solid head shot left them with thirteen. Then they noticed that five of the thirteen pulled away from the other eight and hunkered down, weaponless, behind one of the buildings on eithe side of the highway. They decided not to waste ammo on weaponless men so long as those men left them alone.

That left them with eight heavily armed and ruthless men to combat. There was a temporary stand-off while the battle lines were being re-drawn and the pirate/raiders realized their numbers were slimmer and their opponents more able than they had anticipated. This was street fighting at its most dangerous.

The pirates split their forces and tried to catch Angus and Jim in a crossfire situation. Angus and Jim, realizing what was going on quickly moved away from Juicer and used a variety of other cover. From that point on they kept repositioning themselves so that the pirates could never catch them both with the same maneuver. They weren't going to give them a "two birds with one stone" option.

The pirates were good, but not real flexible. They were sloppy and untrained and used to their opponents choking on fear. Their plan had always worked for them in the past and they had not seen the necessity for designing contingencies. This time the plan didn't work and they couldn't adjust quickly enough to regain the upper hand against Angus and Jim. The tide slowly shifted away from the men being on the defensive to being on the offensive. Being on the defensive was a completely alien situation for the pirates and that made them even less effective and they began to make stupid errors. They stopped operating as a group and it was every man for himself.

Mischief and Mayhem had not been silent partners in this battle. They had taken down two of the unarmed Tarpon Springs men that had tried to throw their lot in with the pirates. Those men paid for that choice with their lives. No man in his right mind would want to go up against a mastiff that is 100 pounds of pure muscle much less two of them. The dogs, young as they were, were well trained and nearly decapitated one of the men with a snap of their powerful jaws.

Angus took out two more, disabling one and killing the other, dropping the enemies' numbers from eight to six. Then Jim took out another two in quick succession dropping their opponents' numbers to four. Those four were smarter than their other brother pirates and quickly regrouped into a team. Jim and Angus had a tough time staying out of their kill zone when they broke into a box they had in one of the trucks and pulled out a container of an odd assortment of grenades.

Angus and Jim had just about everything but the kitchen sink thrown at them. Each type of grenade presented them with new problems. There were a couple of the riot dispersing grenades called "flash bangs" that were more annoying than anything else, but the flash still momentarily blinded the men if they were looking anywhere near where they went off. The incendiary grenades were filled with about 700 grams of thermate and burned so hot that it melted the road where it was set off. One rolled into a dilapidated quickie-mart and started a fairly large blaze that began to spread to the other storefronts in the strip center on that side of the road. Small fires quickly spread in several different directions, sometimes cutting off their best escape routes. The smoke grenades added to the smoke that the fires were generating, only this smoke was thicker and often colored with some type of dye. The worst grenadse they had to deal with were the concussion grenades. A lucky blind lob by one of the pirates landed one of the concussion grenades a little too close to Angus and he was blown through a wooden fence, embedding a large splinter of wood in his calf and momentarily knocking him out.

A grizzled pirate, trying to take advantage of Angus' temporary paralysis and stunned hearing, ran over and took careful aim. But in his glee over seeing Angus down he had forgotten the dogs. He had also forgotten to keep track of Jim. Mayhem came out of the smoke and took the man's throat out with a single jumping lunge. Jim stepped in and put a bullet in the head of the corpse to prevent it from rising. Four had become three.

Angus came to himself much quicker than he had any right to and a good thing too. Jim was searching the smoke for his next target, giving Angus time to gather himself, when he was attacked from behind by a man wielding a baseball bat that had sharp pieces of metal studded all over it. A glancing blow ripped through Jim's jacket, hunting vest, and shirt shredding the skin underneath. Luckily however skin was all he had gotten. A solid blow could have easily torn muscle, broken his collar bone or severed an artery.

Mischief and Mayhem attempted to get close enough to help Jim but the pirate caught both dogs with blows from his club, injuring them. By this time Angus was back on his feet and in full pissed-off Viking mode. It only took the roar of one word, "Move!" and the dogs backed off. The loud exclamation caused the pirate to turn towards Angus just in time to have his face disintegrate in a spray of blood, bone, and tissue by a point blank shot from the Mauser.

Now three had become two; the odds were now even. Angus worried that the dogs would become crippled if they continued to fight so ordered them to stay put. Jim said it was obvious they were still ready and willing to kill for their master and after a brief whine begging not to be taken out of the fight they obeyed and sat close together against the building licking their wounds. But they continued to watch everything within their range.

Jim and Angus went back on the offensive and fanned out using the smoke as cover, hunting the two remaining pirates. Every few minutes a shot would ring out but none of them found their target. Suddenly Angus and Jim heard a commotion to the west of their location. The primary component of the sound was fists hitting flesh. They homeed in the on the sound and came upon the three previously unarmed men taking on one of the remaining pirates. One of the men grab a large piece of broken pavement and put an end to the pirate's existence and used the large rock two more times to make sure that the pirate couldn't rise again.

Everyone was breathing heavy, both from the fighting and from the smoke that still hung thick in the air. Into this came the unexpected sound of a truck squealing out and escaping west along SR54. A quick reconnoiter, and a mercy kill shot to prevent the one remaining mortally wounded pirate from rising, revealed no other immediate threats.

Immediate threats. They still had the fires that were spreading, the zombie horde coming in from the east, and they needed to deal with the three remaining Tarpon Springs men.

There wasn't anything they could do about the fires for the moment. The blazes, large and small, seemed to be dying back due to lack of fuel. If the fire broke past the barrier of the concrete jungle however the wind would likely drive the flames in a southwesterly direction.

No zombies could be seen even when standing on top of Juicer's cab using good field binoculars. That left dealing with the three Tarpon Springs men who stood hunched over like they were waiting for their turn at the guillotine. While Jim and Angus gathered up all the weapons and such that had been left behind they listend to the men from Tarpon Springs tell their side of the story.

Actually make that two men from Tarpon Springs and one man captured who belonged to a community that had been scavenging along the west coast of Pinellas County but that was based at the Ft. DeSoto State Park. Their group had blocked off the bridges into the park as a way to keep the zombies at bay. But, in order to maintain a viable community they needed to resupply from the mainland. South Pinellas was pretty much destroyed by rioting so they took their boats further north. During one of these runs they encountered the pirates, lost two boats and nearly everyone aboard each, but the bulk of their group managed to escape back to their fortified position. The pirates had yet to be able to take them which was a sore point for the pirates and the man, who said his name was Jude, was frequently beaten in retaliation.

The story of Tarpon Springs however was a little different. The two men explained that some refugees that had been taken in about a month and a half earlier turned out to be spies for the pirate crew. They insinuated themselves into the security and leadership positions within the community, slowly influencing key members of the population and in at least two cases getting them hooked on drugs. Then, only two days after our convoy left Tarpon Springs, a relatively bloodless coup took place. Since the immediate leadership within the community didn't appear to change - and the fuel, food and booze kept flowing - there hadn't been much outrage. However when some residents found that the "privateers" were nothing more than bandits that would be using their contacts with other survivor groups to further their goals of domination by intimidation and exacting services and resources in exchange for "protection" from other pirate groups, small acts of disobedience began to occur. Soon the previously bloodless conflict became very bloody when all those that disagreed with the pirates were rounded up, shot in the leg, and tossed into the Gulf for the sharks and other predators to clean up.

Certainly this horrifically brutal act served to subdue an already traumatized community. The three men wanted to take the word back to their groups before the pirates had a chance to regroup. They wanted to empower their fellow citizens to further action.

Angus and Jim rolled their eyes when they heard this. Jim said, "I don't hold out much hope for them. Their description of how Tarpon Springs is being run means alone and weaponless they have little chance of doing what they want to do. But, we let them go and wished them luck. Hell of it was, under other circumstances I might have joined the fight but Sanctuary's situation was our primary concern."

Angus added, "I couldn't get little Bekah's voice out of my head. Hell of it was we hopped in Juicer and was down the road about a half mile before we I realized the radio was capput, the antenna musta got fried during the street battle. And one of the damn tires was warped, probably from a concussion grenade. Got lucky and was able to stop at a county maintenance yard right off of SR54 to fix the tire. But by the time we fixed it dark had nearly set in and a few zombies were already shambling through. We didn't know how bad it was or we probably would have taken our chances and just kept going. As it was we decided to stop for the night and wait until first light to head out. We stayed the night in a mechanic's garage."

The first order of business when they got there, after securing the building itself, was to clean and bandage their various wounds. Even though it's been over a week since their big battle Angus and Jim both still look pretty rough. It hasn't helped that they've been less that accommodating of Rachel's demands that they take it easy. In that respect they behave about as well as any two year old might.

They conceded that they wouldn't be able to get any further that night and decided to rest and prepare for the next day's battle. The problem was that next morning at first light the men awoke to find their position surrounded by more zombies than they had ever thought possible. All Monday they waited, and not patiently from the sound of it, for some break in the horde. Their only outlet was being as creative as they could using the leftovers in the shed to create "weapons of mass destruction."

The zombies never let up. Evening fell again and the two men began to realize that they were either going to have to wait it out where they were for however long it took or risk certain death to reach Sanctuary. Most sane, unattached men probably would have opted to wait at least one more day. That's not saying that Angus and Jim aren't sane, but their view of life after the apocalypse had changed. They were "other driven" and marched to the beat of a different drummer. They simply no longer thought as the average person would have, if they ever had in the first place.

They created pipe bombs, some incendiary and some fragmentary, using all the leftover flotsam the last service team left lying around. Another thing Angus did was sharpen the edge of the front end loader; this way if he couldn't scoop the zombie up at least he could cut them down and partially immobilize them. In addition to the homemade weaponry they reinforced the cab of Juicer so that even if the windshield or side windows caved in, there would still be metal between the occupants and the zombies.

They ate the meal I had packed for them that night and said it was just the picker upper they needed. After that they and the dogs got a good night's sleep; they knew they were going to need it. And they tried not to worry too much about what was happening in Sanctuary.

The dogs had them up before first light. Everyone took care of their business and grabbed a quick bite for breakfast, but nothing too heavy. They weren't exactly going to be able to stop on the side of the road to deal with issues that come from too much bran and too much coffee. Both men also tended to their wounds one more time using nearly a half a tube of triple antibiotic cream each and all of the gauze that was in the first aid kit they found in the supervisor's office.

Both men and both dogs piled into Juicer's cab. Rather than opening the garage door Angus chose to drive straight through it and men and dogs were finally off and running towards Sanctuary.

Getting through the garage door actually proved to be much easier than navigating through the zombie horde. As soon as they cleared the building they were surrounded by a very thick crowd of zombies; so thick in fact the mass of bodies was so thick that Juicer nearly stalled out several times until the men figured out the best way to create their own path of destruction through the walking corpses.

While sharpening the front loader was an integral part of their ability to move through the throng of zombies it also created a rather disgusting problem. Usually Juicer catches the zombies and then dumps them into the compactor portion of the garbage truck; no fuss, no muss. Instead, the sharpened edge now literally cut a swath through the horde. They had to drive in low gear to avoid any more slipping and sliding than necessary, and this allowed them to slowly making their way east on SR54.

Angus and Jim are hardened but not heartless. You can sense that all of the carnage, despite the necessity of it, weighs on them and probably will for some time yet. They said they had to remind themselves that the bodies surrounding them were nothing more than biological shells; that the consciousnesses of the people that had once inhabited those bodies were long gone and never coming back. The fresher the corpse, the more it seemed to imitate life. The child zombies were especially difficult to ignore. They were pathetic looking but were even more dangerous because of the reaction they drew from the living.

Angus fought for every foot of progress they made. Every time the horde shifted he could feel Juicer shift and slide on the road. The trick was to keep their forward momentum, despite their reduced speed, constant and steady. This allowed the front loader to do its job most effectively and meant that they didn't have to worry about losing traction against the blacktop. The gore mounted quickly and it was a challenge to keep the frontloader from becoming clogged. It was a waste of time to try and gather the gore into the compactor section. They just tilted the loader and allowed all of the … body parts and fluids … to slide to the ground and drove Juicer through it.

Even under the best conditions driving would have been tortuous for the two men. But with all the bumping and banging around they felt in the cab, their wounds began to bleed or seep all over again draining them even further. Even the dogs would let out the occasional pitiful whine.

Angus growled, "After a couple of hours of that I had had enough. I told Jim to crack the window enough to use some of the goodies we had gathered."

"Yeah. I had a bit of trouble at first though. I was throwing with my weak arm. The one that I normally throw with was just too damn sore to use," Jim added.

Their new strategy worked, for a while. They added another 10 mph to their speed as zombies in the immediate area would lose the focus on Juicer and go after the louder explosion. Then the first Rager refused to be diverted. The Rager launched itself out of the horde and straight at Jim's side of the cab with a solid thwack.

It hit the door so hard that the inside panel bowed inward. While Angus drove and tried to hold the dogs back – they kept banging into Jim's bad arm – Jim lit up their makeshift blow torch they made cobbled together from a small can of butane. When the zombie's head came up to the window area, Jim directed the flame into the holes of the fencing they had tacked to the frame of the truck and set the inside of the corpse's skull on fire.

"As if the smell of decomp and dog crap wasn't strong enough, now we had to deal with over cooked brains. Talk about bad!" Jim complained after hawking up phlegm at the mere memory of the odor.

That Rager wasn't the last. They also had to deal with the occasional Runner and some of the freakier zombies like the climbers and the mutants.

It's about 20 miles between Elfers and the intersection of SR54 and US41. After making it to the intersection both men were forced to concede that for the moment they had taken all they could. It was late in the afternoon and they needed to bed down for the night and recoop for the big push to Sanctuary. They found the outside edge of the horde by travelling less than a mile north on US41 and were pulling behind the Pasco County Traffic Building when they were unceremoniously hailed from a man on the ceiling warning them of a small band of shamblers on the bottom floor. The man said the next building over had been cleared and to come on for a pot of coffee if they were interested.

It was a strange invitation except the man wasn't a total stranger. Greg had recognized them as belonging to Sanctuary and reintroduced himself in case they didn't know him. He was the leader of the now defunct New Geraci group and was now the current leader of what they called the Brooksville enclave, a small town further north on US 41. Some of them had come south to check on the remnants of the Hale Hollow group that they originated from.

"Wasn't nobody home. They're either all dead or moved on. We scavenged some goods from our old houses and then we was going to go straight back home but ran into that horde y'all come out of. By the way y'all are crazy as hell, you know that? Anywho, the bulk of 'em moved south a bit earlier today and we was making plans to get back home first thing in the morning. Y'all are welcome to come along if you want."

"Nope. We're heading to Sanctuary to see if we can help out," Angus answered.

"Damn. Y'all really are crazy! How you gonna get through?"

"Same way we did it today mate," added Jim.

"Well, ain't gonna try and stop ya that's for sure. Ain't nothing but wasted energy trying to stand in the way of crazy. But if you change your mind just head north on US41 'till you run into Brooksville. We keep us a little lookout crew at the main intersection. You tell 'em Greg sent you and they'll send for me. We'll work it out from there."

These days the issue of safety in numbers was commonsense but the men weren't foolish and kept the dogs, light sleepers both of them, close in case someone got up to tomfoolery.

Next morning after a surprisingly restful sleep each group made a quick goodbye as they rushed to take advantage in the lull of zombie activity. Once they headed back south, Wednesday was a repeat of the day before. Except they now had a better system of distraction allowing them to traverse the distance from the SR54/US41 intersection to Sanctuary's front gates much more quickly.

Angus and Jim arrived mid-morning only to realize that there was no way that they were going to be able to pull into the compound until some of the zombies were cleared away. For the rest of the day communication between Sanctuary and Juicer was sporadic using signs and hand signals.

People on the Wall helped the men's flagging spirits. Juicer gave the people on the Wall hope. Round and round the big truck went scooping up load after load of the dead, compacting them, and then hauling them down the road to dump the biological mess in the pits they had dug so many weeks ago. Angus wondered if the predators and scavengers would be back to feast on this pile like they had the last or if they had all moved on to habitats more closely resembling to their natural one.

The operation continued for hours. Angus and Jim began taking turns; one would drive while the other slept. When evening set it only slowed them down a little but it was a heck of a lot creepier. Still they worked on.

At first light they noticed two things. First was that the number of zombies was noticeably thinner. Second was that they were dangerously low on fuel. They signaled to Sanctuary what their needs were and it was at that point that Scott joined Angus and Jim.

I knew the rest of the story and have already written it in my journal. All I can add is that I will be forever grateful to those two men. Not just for my life or the boys' lives but because they came back for all of us. They could have easily, and with a clear conscience, abandoned Sanctuary and started over someplace else but they didn't.

To me that is a big part of what makes Sanctuary different from any other enclave or compound that we've encountered thus far. Our people don't give up. Our people don't abandon. We don't sit around waiting for someone else to give us something. Everyone gets a chance to prove their worth and busts their butt for the benefit of all their fellow compound mates. We use our own creativity to improve our position. And then … when the inevitable problem comes along … we kick its ass.


	102. Day 150

**Day 150 – Thursday (Dec 28)**

Christmas was wonderful and the zombies are slowly passing through. I cannot believe how many of them there have been. A few more days and Matlock and Dix think we can start house-to-house searches for any stragglers. I suppose they are right, Lord knows there is no sense in wasting ammo at this stage of the game.

I have no idea what makes the zombies congregate together like this. Eventually all the little hordes are going to combine together to create some huge, writhing mass of zombies. It gives me a chill to even try and imagine such a monstrosity. What we experienced was bad enough. If I wasn't scared to death that it would cause some huge ecological catastrophe, I'd wish the zombies would just keep heading east and then walk into the Gulf to be eaten by the predators of the deep. As it is we are wondering if we are going to have to deal with this horde again. Will they reach the coast only to swing around and come back the way they were going? That would just suck beyond words. And if they do indeed behave that way, how long do we have to prepare?

Preparing isn't something I've been doing a lot of lately. I am so tired of coughing and wheezing. It seems I just can't get rid of this stuff whatever it is. I'm not running any fever so I don't think it's an infection. Waleski checks my lungs twice a day and he says they rattle but my lungs and throat don't feel wet. I'm not coughing anything up, I just have this dry irritating and constant hack. The constant coughing is keeping me from sleeping and I have a raging headache from my brain banging around in my head every time I have a coughing fit.

It's just really wearing me down. Every time I try and do anything I only get so far before I have to sit back down. I finally admitted defeat about an hour ago and it's not even lunch time yet. If I had the energy I'd be really angry right now. I am so far behind on everything I need to get done. First there was that week in the attic, then Christmas, and now trying to ….

 _SPLATTTTTTT!_

 _Momma's going to be sad that she made a mess in her journal. Rose and I tried to clean it up for her but there is still ink all over the page where she started coughing and broke the tip off of her pen. Rose said that I had to find another pen to write with but the only one I could find was a green gel pen. I think it's pretty and Momma likes green so that's what I'll write with when I write in Momma's journal._

 _The following is being written by me, Sarah Delaine Chapman. That's my whole proper name but people only call me Sarah Delaine if I get in trouble. They only call me Sarah Delaine Chapman all in one breath like that if I get in a lot of trouble._

 _Daddy says that I'm to keep Momma company while she is napping. And when she wakes up I'm supposed to send someone to get him. Momma didn't want to take a nap but Daddy said she had to. They were gonna do the grumpy fighting thing 'cause Momma wanted to get up and finish writing in this journal and Daddy said she wasn't supposed to stay awake scribbling, she was supposed to sleep like he said. Then I said I would take detection for her and then she could take a nap. That made them both better. I don't like it when Momma and Daddy get cranky with each other. It makes me sad._

 _Oh, Rose just read this and said it isn't detection, its dictation. Oops. I wish Momma didn't write in pen. If she wrote in pencil then I could erase things when I make a mistake. Rose also said it wasn't any of my business to say things like that about Momma and Daddy and that I was just a kid and didn't understand. I didn't mean to be bad and if Momma wants me to mark through it when she wakes up I will._

 _I was going to take dictation but Momma fell asleep anyway which made Daddy get the I-told-you-so look on his face and it's going to make Momma cranky when she wakes up. It's also going to make her cranky when Daddy comes because I know he is going to have Waleski listen to her chest and take her temperature again. Normally a kid wouldn't be allowed to call a grown up by his proper name but Waleski says it makes him irritable for us kids to call him Mr. all the time. Waleski is cranky enough so us kids don't call him Mr. except for Marty who only does it to be sassy even though his Mom only thinks he is being mannerly. Us kids know the truth. Marty is sassy a lot when his Momma isn't around._

 _Waleski says that the rattle is moving deeper into Momma's chest and that he's going to give her a different medicine called something that I can't spell. I'll ask Rose what it is later and she can spell it for me. Rose knows a lot about medicine and stuff now. She's going to be a doctor someday if the college teachers ever come back. Rose says that Waleski thinks Momma has walking pneumonia. I spelled that right because I just looked it up in the dictionary. It means her lungs are sick and have junk in them._

 _Waleski and Rose take care of Momma instead of Ms. Rachel. Daddy said Ms. Rachel would let Momma do whatever she wants to do and Daddy says that isn't good. Ms. Rachel isn't like that with anyone else. She can holler just like a grown up man. Not as loud as Daddy, but still really loud. She only shrugs at Momma when Momma doesn't want to do something that is good for her._

 _I think Momma and Ms. Rachel had an argument and that's the real reason Daddy doesn't want Ms. Rachel doctoring Momma. Besides, Waleski has been here a long time and he knows Momma better than Ms. Rachel does. Momma treats Waleski like she used to treat Uncle. I think that's another reason why Daddy wants Waleski to be the one to look after Momma. She'll get cranky with him a little bit and then she'll do whatever he wants her to. That's the way she was with Uncle._

 _My hand is getting tired so I'll stop writing until Momma wakes up._


	103. Day 151

**Day 151 – Friday (Dec 29)**

 _Momma is still sick so I'm taking dictation for her. Rose told me how to spell the medicine Momma is taking. Azithromycin. I can almost say it. Rose says that it sounds close enough and that spelling it right is more important for now. Waleski called it a Zpak. Momma calls them nasty tasting horse pills, but she is taking them anyway without being too fussy because it makes Daddy happy. I heard her talking to Waleski and asking whether there would be enough left in case someone else needed them and he made a grumpy face at her. He said she wasn't supposed to worry about stuff like that when she was the one that needed it._

 _Momma crossed her arms and gave Waleski the Mom-Eye. Waleski rolled his eyes; he knows when Momma looks like that she isn't going to let it go until she gets some answers from someone. Waleski says that there is still different kinds of medicine left and it's not going to do anyone any good letting them sit there in the cabinets and go past their shelf life. I think that means that it's not going to do any good to let them spoil. He said most everything has at least a year of shelf life left because they've been using up the stuff that has a short shelf life first. I'm glad there is still good medicine or I could have got sick and died from the tiger and Momma might not be getting well either. I'm glad we have Waleski, and Ms. Rachel too, that know how to use the medicines to help us get well. I don't know what we would do without them._

 _Momma is trying really hard not to be cranky. I can tell she is trying hard because her teeth squeak like she's trying not to let words out. She knows people are just worried about her._

 _James said that Momma's problem is that she worries too much about other people and not enough about herself. James is worried too though. Even though he works a lot of hours on guard duty every day he is working in the gardens and he picks oranges for Momma. He and Bekah make Momma a special grapefruit-tangerine-orange juice just for Momma to drink up a lot of Vitamin C._

 _Daddy says Momma has a bad habit of confusing her worth with her works. Rose and James rolled their eyes when I asked them what that meant but David told me it means Momma gets her feelings mixed up. She thinks she's only part of Sanctuary because of all the stuff she can do. And now that she's been sick and not able to work it makes her worry she might not be part of us or she might be letting people down._

 _I love Momma because she's Momma, not because of all the stuff she can do. The stuff she can do is cool, but I love her cause she loved me first when I was a baby and didn't know what real love was. I think I understand though how she feels. It made me really sad when I couldn't work with the animals. I felt lonely and worried that my friends would forget me or get mad at me because I wasn't helping with chores. I got really, really sad one day and then I cried. Samuel wanted to know why. I told him and he said that was stupid and not to think like that. He said real friends are friends no matter what and then he figured out a way that I could help even though I couldn't work like I use to for a while. Samuel doesn't like writing very much but we are supposed to keep track of all the feedings and how big the animals get and stuff like that. Well, he would scribble everything down and I would re-write it so everyone else could read it in the animal book we keep. That made me feel like I was helping and it made me happy. I think Momma needs something like that._

 _Except she's been napping off and on today again. Daddy said to let her sleep because it's what Momma needs to get better. When Momma is awake she is mostly asking what everyone is doing. Daddy closed the shutters on the house because Momma kept waking up when she heard the noises outside._

 _There is a lot of noise out there because we are cleaning up from the zombies. Most of them have finally gone away. Matlock is helping to finish put up the wooden telephone poles with Daddy, Mr. Morris, Mr. Kevin and some of the other handy men. Uncle Angus and Uncle Jim and Sgt. Dix and some of the other men are doing a house-to-house search and cleaning up the zombies that are too stupid to find their way out. But all the booming and banging and kablamming kept waking Momma up and she wanted to know what was going on. James asked Daddy if he closed the big shutters would it keep the noise out so that's what he did._

 _Now I have to write by lantern light but I don't mind; it makes the room warmer which is good. It got cold again last night. I also have to watch Johnnie and Bubby because they are still scared from when they were stuck in the attic. It's so weird to see them acting like babies again. Daddy says they'll get better soon. I can't believe I'm saying this but I miss how Johnnie and Bubby used to be. They were a pain but they were like my little brothers were supposed to be. Now they are just quiet and don't do much but play with the stuff they carry around in their pockets. It's sad and no one seems to know what to say about it._

 _The only person besides Momma and Daddy and Rose that they'll go with is Uncle Angus. They'll go into the front yard with Uncle Angus and play with the dogs. I heard Uncle Angus talking to Daddy about maybe letting Mischief have babies so that us kids could have dogs of our own to take care of and train. Daddy likes the idea but he'll have to talk Momma around. She says pets are a lot of work and are like having kids that never grow up. They are always going to count on their humans to take care of them and no one should take a pet on that isn't willing to make a lifetime promise to take care of their pet. That's what I think too. It's a lot of work to take care of Pup. That's what I call the little Spaniel dog that Waleski saved._

 _Samuel and I think Pup got taken away from her Momma too young and got traumatized or something. She doesn't seem to know all the doggie do's and don'ts. It's really hard to train her. Marty says she's just a dumb dog; but she isn't dumb she just takes longer to learn stuff. And Pup just doesn't like him and that makes him angry. I wouldn't like anybody that pulled my ears and tail either. I wish I could bite Marty too when he pulls my pony tail, it hurts. Maddie is Marty's twin sister and she is OK. Maddie used to be mean like Marty but she isn't any more. She does a lot of work just like the rest of the big girls do. Rose says it's because Maddie is getting mature and Marty isn't yet. Rose says that girls mature before boys do and that I should give Marty a chance to grow up. I think it's just because Marty is a brat and Maddie decided she didn't want to be a brat any more so now she is one of the big girls._

 _Out of all the kids here in Sanctuary I like Samuel best. He is my best friend. Laura used to be my best friend but she is always hanging out with Marty and is getting a smart mouth. Mr. Dante' and Mrs. Tina have restricted her and she hardly has any free time anymore because she got in trouble so much. And she was mean and said that Samuel was my boyfriend. Samuel stopped coming to see me when he found out and it made me really, really mad and I went and told Ms. Patricia so she could tell Samuel that he was just my friend and that Laura was being stupid and for him not to let it hurt his feelings. Mrs. Patricia laughed and said she'd do her best._

 _I like Ms. Patricia. She and Momma used to not get along because Ms. Patricia had a lot of troubles and was sick. But now they like each other. Ms. Patricia must have explained things to Samuel because he started coming back around and it was like Laura hadn't said those stupid things. Samuel likes animals just like I do and it's fun to have someone to talk to. All Laura ever wanted to talk about was boys. Maybe she was the one that liked Samuel and was mad because he was my friend first. Talk about stupid._

 _Momma is awake again and she wants me to write some stuff down so she can remember to put it on her chore chart later._

 _There will be lots of gardening stuff to do in January. One day we'll have to go around to all the lemon and lime trees and mound soil around the base of the trees that have started to walk up by their roots. I didn't know what that meant until Momma explained that sometimes when trees grow they can lift themselves out of the ground a little bit and people need to make sure the roots stay covered up or the tree can die or get diseases._

 _We need to pick up all the fruit that has fallen on the group and put it in the compost pile. James took Johnnie and Bubby and did some of that yesterday to get them out of the house. They pitched a fit and would only go if Rose went too so she and David went and helped pick up fruit too. Rose and David will probably get married one of these days but David says they are too young and things are too crazy right now. David is kind of a grown up so I think he means that Rose is too young to get married and just says it is both of them so she won't get upset. David does things like that, he likes Rose to be happy. It's weird to think about Rose getting married but she is the oldest and Momma said we'll all probably get married some day. That's stupid. All I want to do is take care of animals._

 _We have a lot of tree pruning to do. That means we've got to whack off a lot of the limbs on the trees so that they can grow right this year and make as much fruit as they can. We used to do that every year for the trees in our yard. We would take the Christmas lights down and then prune all of the trees and bushes. We didn't have any Christmas lights this year but we've got a bunch more trees to take care of. That's going to be a lot of work._

 _Momma says that I can help her plant the roses in the middle of the herb garden if I want to. She never let me help do that before but she says that I'm being very responsible and that proves that I'm mature enough to help plant the new bushes and trees Momma has been growing in pots all year. Momma says that is a really big deal and that I'm growing into a fine young lady._

 _Momma was supposed to list out all the vegetables that we need to plant in January but she fell back to sleep again. Mrs. Patricia has come by and she told me to go eat dinner and that she'd sit with Momma until I came back. So that's what I'm going to do. I hope Samuel saved me a spot._


	104. Day 152

**Day 152 – Saturday (Dec 30)**

I feel like I've been sleeping for a flaming year. But I also feel better so what does that say about how bad I must have felt before?

Wow, the things kids say … or in this case write. Sarah was assigned the task of being my official babysitter over the last couple of days. She is sitting here now watching me like a hawk. She's got this miniature hourglass that she dug out of a game and it measures about five minutes of time. Every five minutes she wants me to take a drink of juice. It's both cute and exasperating at the same time. This is definitely a child I need to spend more time with. There are things going on in her life I have no clue about.

I had no idea that Laura was getting into so much trouble. I knew that something has been eating at Tina but frankly I thought it was just the same concerns the rest of us have. Laura is a little young to be messing around with boys, she's only a couple of months older than Sarah for heaven's sake, but I suppose if she was being encouraged by Marty … gack … what an awful situation. And Dante' and Hank work together and are good friends. But that would explain why Tina and Trish have been avoiding one another; Tina trying to avoid trouble and Trish trying to avoid the truth.

Is it my place to say something about this? Maybe Matlock and Dix already know what's going on. I was the last person to figure out the whole Dix – Rachel – Patricia thing. I don't know whether I should even attempt to say anything about this. Argh! I'm not going to put up with Marty's little pecker routine if he is going to start encouraging girls that are too young to see through his crap. I might just wind up jacking his jaw myself and worry about Trish's sensibilities later. That's just one mess we have. There are others.

The zombies have left a God-forsaken wreck all around us. Greenery has been trampled, trees have been stripped of any fruit and leaves that were lower than a tall man can reach, the houses are an awful mess. All the months of cleaning and careful planning for demolition are all gone. There is glass and debris everywhere. Some of the houses are structurally unsound; those Ragers can really tear things up when they get going. Gore and fluids are on nearly everything contaminating what is left that might have been usable. Thank God they didn't get inside the Wall or we may very well have had to move to a new location. I wonder if this is why the animals that fled before the horde were like they were. It doesn't give me much hope for those enclaves that were out in the east of the county. We haven't heard from them in a long time.

Angus and Jim are not back to one hundred percent yet either. They do what they can but most of the men realize that it is still just mostly to try and be supportive. Men that don't have anything to do will get into trouble real quick, even injured men. Jim, Angus, and Mr. Morris have been playing around with that still of theirs for a while now. Apparently last night they got the first draw or two off of it and all three of them were higher than a Georgia pine. Scott couldn't stop laughing when he told me about it. He said they had to pull Angus off the Wall three times before he finally passed out. He was three quarters naked, holding a garbage can lid like a shield and a bamboo pole like a lance and swearing that there were dragons flying around that he had to slay. Jim and Mr. Morris weren't quite as much trouble but they weren't much better than Angus. Every time they tried to walk they would complain that the Captain was terrible and there was no need for the deck to pitch like it did if he would hold the rudder steady. I'm thinking I'm glad that I missed the show.

James came in snickering this morning and said that all three men looked like they could crawl in a hole and pull it in after them. Looks like maybe they should have let the 'shine age a little before taking a toot full. From what I heard growing up the fresh stuff is pretty rough and will make you crazier than Cooter Brown. I never knew exactly what that meant … but the general idea was that crazy only began to describe the person you were talking about. I hope the paybacks don't last all day but from the sound of things we'll have three less for meal time until their stomachs stop trying to travel without them.

I told James to lay off because sure as you laugh at someone else's misery you'll soon be experiencing some of your own. I also told him if I ever caught him getting drunk I'd skin him like an old cat. He knows I'm serious too. Angus, Jim, and Mr. Morris are grown men and I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and say they didn't exactly mean to get as bad off as they did. But I won't have the kids thinking that it's going to be OK to do that sort of thing on a regular basis. Although if they can get that 'shine pure enough then I'll be able to make some tinctures and tisanes with the herbs. I'm using the commercial stuff for the liqueurs and stuff like that. If I can use 'shine for the herbals and save the fancy stuff that will be even better.

Waleski is finally getting interested in my herbal remedy books. I'm wondering if the medicine supply is as strong as he claimed it to be or if he is trying to get a jump on Rachel. She is adamantly against herbals and home remedies. She still sees all of this NRS stuff as a relative blip on the radar and that we'll go back to modern medicine and techniques in the near future, even if that is a year or two down the road. Personally I think she is in denial and I'm wondering if that is the real problem between her and Dix. Rachel's outlook may not be uncommon among survivor groups but it's not logical given our current situation. Even if every zombie in the world was to cease to exist tomorrow there is no way we could return to the way things once were. The production capacity is gone and so is most of our ability to trade internationally for basic materials to manufacture stuff with. Most of the infrastructure has been badly damaged too, not to mention that untold numbers of scientists and specialists joined the ranks of the zombies. I don't know how she can mentally maintain her fantasy much longer. I really don't.

I am determined to get out of this bed tomorrow. I need to look in on the gardens and see what is going on. I'll be mindful of not causing a relapse but being afraid of being sick isn't going to do me any good either. Besides, if I know Scott he'll probably have someone following me around if he can't do it himself.

I'm not going to do anything to upset him if I can help it. I woke up in the middle of last night to find him sitting by the bed watching me while he drank a glass of the apple wine I made two summers ago. If I had to guess, I don't think it was his first glass either. I finally convinced him to crawl in bed and he held me so tight I could hardly get back to sleep. This attic thing rattled him worse than I understood. I knew he was upset but not the full extent of it. I was scared spitless but maybe women deal with that emotional baggage different from men. I know he probably needs to talk it out but I don't know if he's ready to or if maybe he needs to talk to a guy instead of me. I wish I knew what to do. I'll give it a little bit of time before I push the issue.

Speaking of the man, I hear him and James coming in so everyone must be shutting down for the night. He was going to bring Sarah and I our dinner over here since it was so cloudy it got dark an hour early. I guess I hadn't realized how long it has taken me to write all of this out.

I'll send Sarah off to bed after she eats and hopefully Scott and I can at least cuddle a bit and relax before we go to sleep. Cuddling is about all I'm up for but sometimes that's the best medicine there is.


	105. Day 153

**Day 153 – Sunday (Dec 31) – New Year's Eve**

There have been times over the last few of months when I secretly wondered if we would ever see this day. New Year's Eve. Last year at this time we had no idea of the chaos our lives would descend into in the new year.

Tomorrow will start another new year. I don't think it's going to bring fresh hopes that things will go back to "normal." Frankly I don't think our lives will ever be what they were pre-NRS. I don't even think our children's lives will get back to that point. Our children's children? Who knows? Maybe, but a lot will depend on how long the zombies remain animate and how damaged the remaining infrastructure becomes. Population size will also play a key point. It's a certain fact that economically things will be different for many years to come. Deflation will rule the day … assuming we aren't living some barter economy from now on. It will be a long time before precious metals and gems even have any value beyond the intrinsic beauty that polishing gives them. Simply trying to determine how to equitably deal with ownership and estate issues will be years in the structuring and even more years implementing. It may be years before they can start to consider how to structure and implement; unless of course they just do a mass nationalization of everything. That won't fly too well with the people I know. We work hard for our survival. What we've built is ours in the truest sense of the word. We've poured our sweat and life's blood into it; literally.

I wish we had some way to find out what was going on with the rest of the country, find out what directions things are going in. If our area is any indicator, there are still lots of depravations occurring by zombies or by raiders of some flavor. It must be the same in many other areas. How bad it is in other areas though is the question in my mind. I wonder sometimes how the evacuees from MacDill made out. Did they get where they were going? And how many met them when they got there? If they did are their plans working? Sometimes I even think about Junie and whether she has regretted her decision to leave, whether she is even still alive.

The other thing that being sick has really made me think about is how other areas are handling health issues. All of these decomposing bodies cannot be a good thing. I was a fool for dumping the NRS infected bodies in those septic tanks the way I did. I'm not sure what else I could have done at the time, but I wish I had done something different. Those trenches that our group dug north of here so that Juicer could dump its load work well enough for now I suppose, but Scott says that the area is very noxious, even more so since they've been freshened with the bio-debris from this latest round of zombie clean up. I don't even want to think about the funky hepatitis types that could be brewing in that mess.

Then I start thinking about "normal" illnesses like the waterborne bacteria of cholera, salmonella, e. coli, and shigella. Or how about mosquito-borne illnesses like Yellow Fever and West Nile Virus. Let's not forget to add in there all the childhood diseases that we can no longer vaccinate against (or get boosters for) like chicken pox, measles, whooping cough, etc. One of these days everyone's tetanus shot is going to lose its effectiveness and then we'll see a return of preventable deaths from scratches and simple injuries. Don't even get me started on how worried I am about rabies and things like that. It makes my teeth hurt (and I don't even want to think about the dental implications until I have to) trying to think of ways to protect and avoid exposure to the worst of this stuff and I wonder what life is going to be like for the next couple of generations.

I have little enough time for that speculation however. There are too many other things that need my time and mental energy. The kids for one.

The kids were all playing around by making a resolution list. Of course the big one was more hope than resolution; everyone wants to see the last zombie infestation. I told them resolutions are things that they physically strive to do themselves, not simply something they hope will happen. Then the lists got really creative. I'll try and facilitate what I can but there are some things that I don't know if we can provide. A lot of the kids said they want to improve their aim or loading time – now tell me that isn't strange for a kid to have as a resolution. Sarah and Samuel's resolutions had to do with animal husbandry – I think I'll turn that over to Mr. Morris and Reba. Bekah says she wants to qualify for a Ham radio license – I'll let Scott see if he can get with Dix on that. Marty and Maddie say they want to start their own radio program – that's a little over the top but it does have possibilities assuming we monitor what they are saying. Josephine wants to go to the Ringling Museum and try and salvage some of the great works of art there – that's in Sarasota and I have no clue how we'd accomplish that. Rose wants to go to college – that just about broke my heart. I think she knows that it isn't realistic but I'm beginning to worry about what kind of nonsense that Rachel might be filling her head with.

Speaking of Rachel she said something nasty to me today that if I had had the energy probably would have resulted in a real-knock-down-drag-out between the two of us. As it is James overheard and the only thing that held him back is that we raised him never to hit a female. I'm sure he is going to say something to Scott, Dix, and Matlock about it and that's just going to cause more trouble. The longer this clearing of the air takes, the more I'm afraid the resulting fracas will cause irreparable damage.

I just needed some fresh air; I've been cooped up more in the last two weeks than I have been in years. It was relatively warm and in the 70s so I didn't need a heavy winter coat on, and Waleski said it was all right for me to take a short walk so long as I didn't over do it. I decided to go see how the native fruit trees were doing. James said he'd only been over there once and it made me wonder how much of the fruit was going to waste, if any. I didn't plan on working, just observing. Honestly, I really didn't.

So I made my way over to the trees and I noticed a few carambolas on the ground but not a lot of other fruit. I reached up and was touching a couple of the fruit to see how ripe they were and thinking that maybe we have varmints taking away the dropped fruit when along came Rachel. Without even stopping to consider I might have just been looking she starts in on me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Are you trying to waste all of our time and medicine? How selfish can you possibly be?!"

All I could do was stand there stunned. I couldn't even come up with a smart aleck comeback. I thought things had been getting better between us; not great, but certainly better than this overblown reaction from her.

"No remorse? No rationalization from the omnipotent mother hen?" she kept pushing.

"Look Rachel, I don't know what you think you're talking about but Waleski said I could walk out here and that's all I was doing," I said trying to defend myself.

"Oh for God's sake look at you. If we had a proper triage procedure in place you wouldn't have even gotten any medicine. You would have been given comfort measures and that is all. And good men put themselves at terrible risk to rescue you and those monsters of yours. Don't you think you owe them a bit more respect than to be out here showing off … yet again."

I was totally flabbergasted. All I could do was stand there and flap my mouth open and shut like some stupid fish. No sound would come out. I just didn't have a clue how to respond to this. I had also started shaking pretty bad too, either from cold or reaction to her attack I still don't know.

"Look at you. That's a pathetic act but you don't fool me, not any more. I know just how sneaky and manipulative you can be. You like the way things are. It gives you control and power to be able to tell other people what they should and shouldn't be doing. You sit in judgment like some goddess."

I finally found my voice, "Hey, that's not fair. And what do you mean that I'm sneaky and manipulative? What have I ever done to you to deserve to have you this angry at me and say such stuff?"

"What have you done?! You know how much Dix means to me and you undermine me at every turn. You listen in on conversations that are none of your business. You've convinced him that things aren't going back to normal, that the way we are living now is how it's going to be from now on. No wonder Junie left, she must have seen what you were doing to Waleski. You've got all the women trying to be like you. Hell, hardly anyone would talk to me when I tried to be part of the group. I am so sick and tired of you being held up as the example of femininity."

I couldn't help it. I know it only made things worse but I really couldn't' help myself. I laughed as much as wheezing and coughing allowed me to laugh. "Are you crazy?! I'm just me. If no one knew what to say to you it might be because you were doing something you never do, hang out with the girls. And for your information the only man I want to be feminine for is Scott. So if you and Dix are having problems that is between you and Dix. Don't blame me or bring me into it as an excuse. For goodness sakes you're 15 years younger than I am. You are a freaking blonde haired, blue eyed Amazon. You're gorgeous, you're smart, you're fit … where is this weird crap coming from? He left Patricia for you and put his relationship with his son in jeopardy ... for you."

"Listen bitch. You don't fool me for one second, not any more. I know you. When things get back to normal, when the military comes back in here and takes care of things properly, you will get what you have coming to you."

She took a threatening step towards me and that's when James stepped through the bushes, "Get … away … from … my … mother … bitch."

One, I've never heard James swear like that though I suppose most teenage boys make curse words part of their vocabulary at some point, even the ones raised like we tried to raise James. But the thing that really worried me was how much he looked like Scott in that moment. His rifle was slung across his back in its soft case but he still managed to exude menace in a way a sixteen-year-old shouldn't have. He is definitely his father's son and when Scott looks like that anyone with any sense plays duck and cover.

Luckily for all of us Rachel still had at least a grain of sense despite a parting shot to say, "Take your mother home where she belongs before she wastes any more of our time and resources."

I looked at James and managed to grab his arm before he took off after her and said, "Let it go son."

"No way!" he refused.

"Yes way," I responded. "I appreciate you coming to my defense like that but …"

Outraged he argued, "Mom, she looked like she was going to hit you or knock you down or something!"

I tried to deny the obvious by saying, "Neither one of us can know that for sure. We've all had to go through adjustment reactions to deal with what has been happening."

"That's no reason … "

Trying to come with a convincing rebuttal I said, "Wait, let me finish. Remember I had to change and let you grow up faster than I was comfortable with. It turned out to be the right thing to do but I have to say it's one of the hardest things I've ever done. You know how hard that was on our relationship and on the family there for a while. I didn't exactly take it well, Other people are having to and will continue to have to make adjustments too. In this case Rachel … I don't know all of what is going on but it's not good. I'm beginning to think that maybe she thinks things will just go back to the way things used to be."

"No way," James denied.

"Yeah. Your dad and I have talked about it. It's really possible that Rachel is in a functioning state of denial. I don't know why she is fixated on me, but better me than Patricia who is almost six months pregnant or one of the other women who might not be able to handle it."

James was pretty confused at that point. "And you are letting her teach Rose to be a doctor?! Are you and dad crazy too? She's already filling Rose's head with going to college and stuff like that. You know that's the reason that David has backed off right? He thinks Rose deserves someone better than him, should have the chance to do all she wants to do."

No, I hadn't known that. I wondered to myself if people just assumed that I could learn stuff through osmosis. Would it really be that difficult to explain things to me?

Sighing I said, "David has a point about letting Rose grow up but you also have a right to be concerned about what direction that growing up takes and whether she is getting good counsel so that she can make good choices. I'll talk to your dad about it."

"Dad's already talked to David. I mean David actually was the one that brought it up to Dad 'cause he didn't want Dad to think he was some kind of scuzz or that he didn't still love Rose. I overheard Dad talking to Matlock and Dix asking them what the situation was."

"Great. Am I always going to be the last to know?" I replied in a huff.

"No. I think it's just that you give people too much credit and expect them to be the best versions of themselves. Dad never expects people to be the best versions of themselves, they have to prove it to him first. Hey, you're shaking! I'll walk you back to the house," he said as he put his arm around my shoulders. Whether to comfort me or shield me from the cool breeze that had begun I didn't want to consider.

James has grown so much in the last couple of months. I felt like a dwarf. James is going to be several inches taller than Scott before too much longer. It was comforting and consternating at the same time to realize that my little boy really was grown. I know it was going to happen eventually, but it wasn't that many months ago that I used to shout at him to get off of the blasted Xbox and get his homework finished. Now I have to shout at him to get off the blasted Wall, put the gun down, and take a break.

I don't know what to do about Rose. I'd noticed there was some distance between us over the last week but I just put it down to her being in "medic mode" and needing to maintain some separation so that she could do her job. Now I'm wondering if that's really all there is to it. I will skin Rachel alive if she is intentionally - or even unintentionally - interfering with my relationship with my kids. That steps way over the line and there will be consequences, mark my words. On the other hand Rose is getting older and does have the right, up to a point, to make her own decisions even if her father and I don't agree with them. How can we balance her rights as an adult against our wisdom and experience; and then how do we weigh that against the greater good for Sanctuary as a whole?

Problems, problems. But, there are other things that are looking up. In one particular case quite literally. Angus swears that he was drunk, not delusional. He did see something flying in the sky overhead. He was positively adamant about it. When push came to shove – figuratively in this instance – James admitted to hearing something a couple of times at night, but he put it down to zombies doing something screwy and the sound echoing oddly. Then last night Matlock spotted something in the sky but it was too high and it was too dark to tell for sure what it was. He said that it is either a satellite slowly falling out of orbit, or a plan on high altitude reconnaissance. One I could care less about, the other however could mean any number of things for us and thinking about traps me right back into the fruitless speculation that I don't really have time for.

Add to this the fact that we've started to hear a little bit of chatter on the radio and our imaginations could really go into overdrive. The transmissions aren't clear. In fact they aren't decipherable at all. But, we are 99% sure that we're hearing human voices and not some strange feedback effect or some pre-recorded message loop.

From loop to loopy … and that's how I'm feeling. Loopy. I'm going to bed. Most everyone else is staying awake to greet the new year in some style. Not me. I just want my warm bed and my man to share it with. Maybe I'm getting old, but given how I've felt, that's plenty enough to celebrate.


	106. Day 154

**Day 154 – Monday (Jan 1)**

Right or wrong I haven't been able to get what Rachel has said off of my mind. It hasn't helped that our whole family was at odds with one another most of today. I suppose I could blame it all on Rachel but I imagine all families go through periods like this. Something will happen or something will be said and it's just like static electricity, eventually someone is gonna get a shock. I am just not going to put up with this situation continuing tomorrow. If I have to suck it up and go to Rachel and do a little schmoozing to put things back on an even keel I will. It's untenable for this to continue as it is given how much we now have to depend on one another.

First thing this morning Rose and James started sniping at each other. From what I gather James said something about Rachel and Rose came to her defense. Then off they went. When Rose got around to telling James he was just too young to understand the situation Scott told her that she was the one being immature about defending a woman that had threatened her mother and that if she kept it up that he'd rethink allowing her to apprentice over at the clinic.

Oh Lord, that set off the fireworks, David got dragged into it and then Rose started to threaten to sleep in the women's dorm from now on. Rose said some really not nice things but I'm not even sure that at the time she even had a full accounting of what went on yesterday.

Of course Scott decided that he'd had enough. I'd had enough for that matter but I've been trying to be better about being confrontational. I certainly didn't think Scott was going to make the stink he did at breakfast. I can guarantee you that Rachel didn't expect it.

Scott walked me over and sat me down at our usual table in the mess hall. I was feeling kind of low and I guess it showed. I hate it when there is fighting even though sometimes I'm the one that causes it. Scott is more of a get-it-out-in-the-open-and-deal-with-it type. He'd been trying it my way for the sake of peace; now it was going to be his way.

He walked right over to where Rachel was sitting and conversing with Dixon. She was smiling but it faltered slightly when she saw Scott approaching. I wanted to melt into the ground because I could already sense where it would go. Scott knows I hate that kind of stuff but be was bound to make his point. I really hate to have public confrontations; too much like airing dirty laundry for my comfort.

He looked at her and then pointed at me. "You see that woman over there? That's my wife. You say jack crap to her that isn't polite and there will be a problem."

"Excuse me? You can't talk to me like that."

"I just did and I'm not through either. You ever tell her that she is a waste of energy and/or resources again and you can damn sure start doing your own repairs and gathering from here on out. What you have been living off of the last couple of months has at least in part been provided by my family. Sissy has cooked your food, washed your clothes, helped you find medicines that you wanted, and a hundred other things."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said beginning to be shaken that the confrontation was so public. Scott can be vicious mean when someone he cares about is threatened. Part of me wanted him to stop, but I'll be totally honest and say that there was another part that was going, "Oh please, oh please, oh please let Scott make all this stuff stop." I don't care how cowardly that makes me seem, I was nearly to a breaking point and I couldn't do it all by myself any more.

Scott wasn't finished. "Girl, don't lie on top of everything else. James wasn't the only one that heard all that you said to Sissy yesterday."

"Your son obviously is too immature to grasp all of the implications. He didn't understand what I was saying and took it out of context. "

"Rachel I just don't care about 'understanding' your 'context' any more. You've heard what I said. You stepped way over the line when you started talking about triage and about it being a waste of resources to treat Sissy. Do not threaten my wife or anyone in my family again. You have a job in this community just like everyone else. We may need you for your medical expertise but damn if I'm going to put up with just anything to have it. And here's another thing, if you start telling lies to my daughter ever, ever again I will make it my business to make your life as much of a misery as I can. And you better believe me when I say this."

Rachel was starting to really angry. "Sgt. Dixon that man is …"

In a tired voice Dix said, "Rachel, there's been complaints. He wasn't bluffing about other people hearing what you said to Sissy. Three other men also over heard what you said and corroborated Scott's complaint against you. I warned you about this feud you've been imagining. I let it go because Sissy was always able to stand up for herself. But right now she isn't. Not only that, you made it my business, mine and Matlock's, when you started talking about the fact that we should deny some people medical care and some people not. Hell, we treated those refugees from Hale Hollow. Why shouldn't we treat one of our own with whatever resources we have?"

"You are seriously taking her side?" Rachel asked in a deadly calm voice.

"I am dealing with a number of complaints that have been brought against you. I'm dealing with them as one of the leaders of Sanctuary because you wouldn't listen to me when I warned you about it as a friend. You are the one that has left me with no choice."

"I have a right to know who my accusers are."

"This isn't a court Rachel. Just deal with it already and stop making things so hard on yourself and everyone else too."

"Dammit, who thinks that they have the right to judge … "

Waleksi stood up and said, "It was me Rachel. Dante', Hank, and I had gone over to the other side of the orange grove to smoke a cigar. I saw Sissy and went over to make sure she wasn't going to try and sneak in any work. She was just standing and looking at the fruit and at the ground. James must have been watching her from the other side because we didn't see him until you took a step towards Sissy. Damn Rachel, what did you think you were doing? For that matter, she's my patient and I don't consider the time I spent tending to her a waste."

Rachel looked really shook up. "What is this?! Some kind of protection committee for the beloved Mother Hen? She can take care of herself. Hell, she and Patricia had a few fights and no one intervened."

Patricia verbally stepped in and said, "Don't bring me into this. Any problems that Sissy and I had have been worked out. And if you'll recall I wasn't exactly stable and in my right mind at the time."

It took a moment for Patricia's comments to sink in. "What are you implying?! How dare you accuse me … "

I'd had enough of sitting on the sidelines and feeling pathetic. I sure wasn't going to let Patricia have problems with Rachel, not when she was pregnant and needed her. "Rachel we've all had some serious adjustment reactions to go through. I'm definitely including myself in on this. Right now, maybe you're dealing with some stuff …"

"You just don't like that your daughter likes me better than you. You're trying to marry her off young and turn her into some little wifey just like you. Well I put a stop to that didn't I? Not every woman has to do things the way you're doing them."

Rose gasped as she started to realize she had been a pawn. Scott and James were getting real bent out of shape and some of the other people were starting to get angry as well. No more, I thought. I held up my hand hoping that people would let me finish. "Leave Rose out of this; Melody too for that matter. I never wanted my girls to limit themselves only to what they saw in my life. I've made my own decisions … and my own mistakes … and I expect the girls to do nothing more than learn from them, not replicate them. And Rose's friendship with David is their personal business. Scott and I hope they wait some but if it doesn't work out between them we want it to be because they realized it naturally and not because there was undue influence; especially not undue influence out of spite and manipulation."

"Shut up."

"That's enough," Scott broke in. "Forget the drama and emoting and let's get back to my point. You keep a civil tongue in your head when you talk to my family. How other people deal with you is their business, this is how I'm choosing to deal with you from here on out. You and Waleski are the only medical support we have in Sanctuary and I don't have any choice but to grant you a certain amount of respect for that. But I will not tolerate you messing with my family. I'd rather do without than deal with you any more than necessary."

Rachel stormed off after that. Scott snorted and rolled his eyes at her and then got me a plate and stared me down until I picked up my fork and started eating. Oh brother I hate appearing weak. I hate hiding behind Scott. But you know? If I'm honest part of me was glad it was out in the open and relieved that Scott had so blatantly taken my side.

The kids were pretty subdued all through breakfast but everyone managed to eat, even me. Scott on the other hand acted like he'd had a weight lifted off and had seconds. I suppose it was rough on him to let things go as long as he had. He's at least as protective of me as I am of him. Everyone else's reactions ran the gamut from extreme embarrassment to they could have cared less.

The awful thing is I can't help but wonder if maybe Rachel doesn't have a point. I mean I know she has some stuff going on in her own head and that not everything she said is true, but some of the things she said makes me wonder about my own motivations and maybe whether I'm not unduly influencing people. 'Course that sounds kinda arrogant to think that I could, but still. And the thing about maybe not being properly appreciative of the danger that others have put themselves in on my behalf … yeah, that makes me squirm pretty good. And if I have put myself in a position where I've unnecessarily used up resources that could have been put to better use later on? I don't know, it's like bugs crawling around in my psyche. I can't seem to just ignore it.

Rose came home and had a good cry in the late afternoon. Scott brought her home and after she went to lie down he said Rose and Melody had had a real row with Rachel. Looks like Rachel is screwing up left and right. Those two girls all but worshipped the ground she walked on. Yeah, I was jealous up to a point, but I also always knew that Rose's life was going to be considerably different from my own. Even before NRS I knew that the likelihood of her life and mine bearing anything more than a passing resemblance wasn't in the cards. I hate like sin that she's going through this but at least our family is piecing itself back together. Life is just way too short these days for this type of stuff to go on and on.

Rose is still asleep so I never got to ask her specifically what went on but I did talk to Melody. She was pretty upset herself but bearing up better than Rose. She said that Rose confronted Rachel about what she had said to me and asked for … no demanded … an explanation. They got one but it was long, rambling, and so convoluted that Melody didn't know what to make of it. She said Rachel is really great on one level but on another there is something badly wrong. Waleski must have called for Scott to come over and then Dix showed up too. She didn't know what went on after Scott brought them home but I imagine we'll all find out tomorrow.

Like I said, if it takes me making nice to Rachel I will. I just don't want this stuff to go on anymore. We need all the energy we have to fight for our survival. This is doing none of us any good.

Tomorrow we are going to try and get back on schedule. I'm still on restricted duty but tomorrow is just mending day. I think I can manage to sit on the front porch and do some stitching. Angus said he'd come by and bring the dogs for the kids to play with; try and get their minds off of what has been going on. I know if he could he'd be going with Cease and Jerry to do some hunting. We need fresh meat pretty badly. Between the gardening not getting done and all the lost fruit outside the Wall we are literally eating up our stored foods too quickly. I don't know how much luck the hunting party will have but even if they only bring back some rabbits that will be better than nothing. We need another safari trip over towards Busch Gardens, if nothing else to see if the zombies came through there.

Well, I'm yawning like crazy. I feel a little less like Old Mother Hubbard tonight but I'm still looking forward to my pillow earlier than everyone else. Scott told me he'd put the kids to bed and make sure that James' bag was ready for him to take early shift and for me to go on. God I love that man. I think I'd die if anything happened to him.


	107. Day 156

**Day 156 – (Wednesday)**

Not much time for writing. There's no one to complain about me being back on the work rosters now, there's no choice. Too many can't work. Those of us that can do something must no matter how difficult. Not one of us remaining in Sanctuary has escaped injury or nearly incapacitating grief. What's left but to put one foot in front of the other? The children, those that are still with us, need us. And we need them to give us purpose.

Yesterday … there are no words for what happened yesterday. We've counted our dead, buried them, and now are praying that none of our injured add to the total. We have one missing but I suspect where he has gone and more power to him. May God speed his mission. Damn all pirates and raiders to hell. May they rot in the lake of fire forever and ever amen.


	108. Day 157 (part one)

Day 157 – Thursday

This is the hard part. The waiting. The waiting and praying in the darkest part of the night.

There's hardly any sound in Sanctuary. We weren't noisy before, we limited our decibels to avoid attracting more infected, but there were normal every day sounds. We were alive. This is almost like the nothingness of the dead, their gapping maws open in roars and screams that will never be heard. Like Sanctuary has become a walking corpse itself.

They must have been casing us. That's the only explanation. The methodology was too planned out, too specific to our compound. We still can't tell if the two groups were working in concert or if one decided to steal from the other and feed off of us like a hyena pack on a lion pride's kill. One from the front, one from the back.

Tuesday started out ordinarily enough. Cease and Jerry left before first light on bicycles; the older man on a three-wheel with a basket and the young man joyously free on a 10-speed Schwin. I didn't think it the smartest thing to do at the time but both men wanted to see if they could depend on non-motorized transportation for hunting. The fact that they left so quietly is what probably hid them from notice; at least then.

I was buttoning Kitty's sweater in preparation of taking the kids over to breakfast. Scott and James were both on the Wall and David was stacking wood over at the kitchen and then planned to help Scott secure another two or three sections of poles before lunchtime. Angus had come over with the dogs and Johnnie and Bubby were trying to play with them but the dogs were spooked for some reason. Angus was looking at them perplexed because the dogs always want to play.

Then the world shifted on its axis and nothing will ever be the same again.

Several of us smelled it at the same time, I noted several adults in the pale light of dawn stick their noses in the air and sniff just as the dogs started howling. Then there was a whoosh followed closely by heavy black smoke pouring into Sanctuary on the breeze from the south Wall area. Dix and Matlock were shouting the first order when WHAM! I haven't heard that much continuously loud noise since before they tore Mabel's house down. Radios, I still don't know how many, blaring enough bass to rattle windows. You couldn't even think for all the noise and smoke much less hear the directions that Matlock and Dixon were trying to shout. Heck, within minutes it was hard to breathe and see; hearing was pretty far down on the list of concerns at that point.

No one is prepared for this sort of ruckus as 5:30 in the morning. There had just been a shift change and people were in the midst of thinking about breakfast and from there onto whatever they had planned for the day. The thick, dark smoke and the music caused everyone to focus their attention; just as it was designed to do. A diversion. One thrown at us so quickly that most of us never even thought about it being a diversion.

Everything was so infernally loud. I'll never be able to hear Paranoid by Ozzy Osbourne again without thinking of that day and how darkness, death, and destruction closed in on us; on some of us for the last time.

We thought there was a fire. Nearly every man on the Wall and in Sanctuary ran to put it out. But the Wall wasn't on fire. It was four delivery vans, their tops taken off and filled with tires, doused with fuel (what we had smelled), and then set aflame. The Wall itself was in no danger of catching. That odd fact only added to the confusion.

While we were all focused on the billowing black smoke a car hauler backed up to the front gate area. James, who had stayed put at the farthest NW guard tower, fired off a few warning shots, hitting one of the intruders who subsequently tumbled to the ground, but it was too late. Armed pirates began to pour over the top of the gate using the car hauler's ramp like stairs. The sides had metal plates welded to it and provided too much protection for those few still on the Wall to make any good shots.

When I heard the shots and saw the raiders I started screaming at the kids to get in the house and go to the center, to our storm room. I thrust Kitty into Rose's hands while Melody hauled Sis and Belle in by their little arms. Everyone knew the drill. Women and children were to converge on our house since it was still the most defendable in Sanctuary. And praise be, Scott hadn't opened the shutters back up yet because he'd been too busy. That saved me some time that I used to make sure my pistol and rifle were fully loaded and within easy reach.

Then an explosion ripped the morning wide open, the percussion nearly bowling me over, slamming me hard into the front door's frame. It was one of our buildings near the front. I couldn't tell which. It wasn't but a second before debris began raining down all over the compound.

There was lots of gunfire by this time from all over the compound. The bastards had really done it; they were inside. I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't going to bolt the door until I was sure that no one else was coming but I knew I didn't have much time left to make the choice. I had the rifle out and safety off but couldn't tell whether the shapes moving in the grayness were friend or foe. Finally, out of the smoke came Waleski carrying Patricia.

"Get her inside and if Rose and Melody are here just tell them to do their best. I've got to help … ," he gulped but didn't finish what he was going to say which did not bode well and scared the heck out of me. "Just tell Rose and Melody to be prepared, I'll bring those that I can back here." Then he disappeared back into the smoke.

I had finished handing a nearly insensible Patricia off to the girls when Angus burst through smoke half carrying, half covering Rhonda. "Here's another one. The bastards are all over the place and our people are scattered. Get inside, I'll cover the front. The dogs are guarding the rear. Mayhem and Butch have a guy down back there tearing him apart. Keep Pup out from under foot or the mood they're in they might forget she's a friend. Keep the kids away from being able to see anything, Uncle Angus is right pissed off."

I got out of Angus' way after setting a full canteen of water just inside the door. He knew what he was doing and sure as heck didn't need my help. I knew for a cold hard fact that he'd die before he let anyone cross that threshold that would harm the children. Even Rose and Melody calmed down when they realized who was covering the door.

It was at that point that I began wondering where was Scott, where was James, where was David. Round and around and around in my head those questions danced. I tried to place them when the gunfire started but they could have moved anywhere. I knew James had still been in the NW tower because I heard him yell the warning followed by shots from that position. I had no idea if he was still there or not. Scott was supposed to be on the Wall too. But David was over by the kitchen. I hadn't seen him.

I made my way out to the carport hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar face. After a few moments Brandon tumbled out of the smoke with Josephine in his arms. I ran out to grab them and bring them to safety and nearly ran into Jack.

"Sissy have you seen Patricia?!"

"She's inside with Rose and Melody."

He all but sagged in relief. "Tell her … tell her … "

"Come in and tell her yourself," I said as I tried to tow him along the same way I was doing Brandon.

"Can't. I'm hooking with up Dante' and we're going to do our best to keep any more from coming in the rear. That should give the others more time to take care of the ones inside the Wall," and he was off, disappearing into the smoke.

I had no choice but to let him go and deal with Brandon. Tears streamed down his eyes, blood from several small facial cuts flowing with them.

"Sissy, a piece of debris came down and landed on the cook stove. There was this huge flash. Josie was looking straight at it. She says she can't see."

All I could think of was to get them both inside and give Josephine to Rose and Melody and hope that Rachel and Waleski would show up soon.

I glanced at Angus' back but he was too busy to ask anything of. I could hear bullets pinging off the metal shutters and concrete block. I refused to think about that and then did something that I knew I had to. I went over to Rose, took her in my arms and gave her a hug.

Rose knew immediately what I was planning, "No mom … no … no you can't!"

"Listen to me. There are people out there that need help. Some of them might not be able to get here on their own. You two are all the medical help we have right now. I'm going to get the injured and bring them back here."

"But … but what about us?!"

"This is for you sugar. I want you to know I trust you. I trust you to do this. And you have to trust me to do what I have to do. Angus is protecting the front. The dogs are covering the rear although it's unlikely anyone could get in that way anyway. Brandon?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I'm counting on your too. I need you to hang out in the carport area and take in anyone that needs help. Angus is too busy and too focused. This is important. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I gave Rose and the other kids a hug and then told Brandon, "Ok, follow me out."


	109. Day 157 (part two)

Day 157 (part two)

When we got out of earshot I added, "Brandon, don't you dare let anyone get to the girls. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, ma'am. There were men like that in the refugee camps when we were still in south Florida. I saw what happened to some … I won't let anyone hurt them. I won't. I promise."

"I know you won't son. Make sure you keep Scott's shotgun handy and here is an ammo can. They're reloads from Mr. Morris. Scott says it's a mule kicker so be ready for it. Just make sure you know what you're shooting at."

As I turned to leave he grabbed my arm. "If you see my dad … I think it was our house. The explosion. I think it was our house. I recognized pieces of wallpaper that came out of the sky. If you see my dad, tell him, tell him I'm OK."

I tucked the possibility down in my mind. I think Brandon must have already suspected – felt – that his family was in trouble. The look in his eyes was bleak.

First on my mind though was James. I had a horrible feeling. It was squeezing my heart in a vice.

There was no way I could go around front of the house. I wasn't about to get between Angus and whatever he was aiming at. I was feeling bullet-proof but only up to a point. I hope to heavens that I've left stupid behind a long time ago.

So, using the carport and the east fence as cover, I made my way behind and around our property, aiming for my path through the orange grove. It is quite hidden because we've left the rest of the orange grove pretty overgrown, saving the grass for animal fodder.

I could hear the dogs in the backyard … and screaming. They were obviously still doing their doggie duty. I hope that whoever they took out that they'd complete disable the corpse. I didn't want to come home to find zombies on the lanai.

I made it to the middle of the north fence before I had to deal with any problems on my own. Two raiders came out of the smoke. One asked in a nakedly nasty sing song voice, "Well, what do we have here Leo?"

The other leered and responded, "Looks like a little fun Tad. Right when we decided to go on break too. Must be a sign."

Dumbasses the both of them. They talked like a couple of white collar schmucks that had gone to the darkside. Too bad for them. I didn't have a light saber but my machete proved to be just a deadly. Swipe one took ol' Leo's head off. Swipe two did the same for pretty boy Tad. Their heads might reanimate but they weren't going anywhere if they did.

I know I should have been horrified at how easily I killed. Looking back at it now I kinda am, but only kinda. At the time, not at all. They were in my way. Not only were they in my way but they were threatening rape or worse. If I'd had time to waste I would have handed them their little boy parts on a platter before taking care of their other pea-sized heads.

I plowed on through the heavy smoke wondering when the stuff was going to start dissipating. It was noxious and coated the inside of my throat as badly as the inside of my nose. Through the orange grove, through the native fruit grove. On the other side of the last tree the smoke thinned out and then a breeze carried it up and out of my way.

I fell to my knees in shock. The NW corner of the Wall was gone. It wasn't a huge gap, about two people wide, but it was still there. Anyone and anything could walk right in. Then I realized, if I could see the NW corner of the Wall was missing I should have been seeing the NW guard tower.

No, no, no, no, no. I ran over. It was like someone had kicked over a bunch of tinker toys. It was just in pieces. In the center, sticking out from under the tarp that used to keep the wind and sun off of him, my son's leg protruded. Slowly I moved over and lifted back the tarp; it crackle as I pushed it to the side. His foot, then his leg, the waist band of his jeans were soaked in blood. I vaguely remember crying out, but I couldn't stop. I had to know. The back of his t-shirt was filthy with sand and debris. Then he shuddered … and groaned. Zombies don't groan. I yanked the tarp the rest of the way off. His face was battered but his eyes were open.

I must have started laughing like a loon. My boy was alive! He was trying to say something but his lip was split pretty good. I leaned down.

"Mom … Mom …"

"Momma's here baby. Give me a sec to think and I'll get you out."

"No … Mom … "

"Honey, save your strength."

"Mom! … look …"

"What baby? Do you need something? Are you in pain?"

"Mom …. look … out."


	110. Day 157 (part three)

Day 157 (part three)

It took me a crucial second to register what he was saying. Somewhere along the way I must have learned my lesson because by the time I had rolled around and faced the threat I had my Mark III out and the safety off.

Coming our way at a trot were two raiders. One had once been fairly obese but now had lots of sagging flesh flapping over his belt and below the hem of his shorts. The other was never overweight and in fact was all but emaciated. This raider group was either really bad at what they did or these two were on the bottom of the pecking order. They obviously weren't getting their three squares a day.

"You think that little shits dead this time?"

"He better hope for his sake that he is. Samson is pissed off in the extreme. That kid has taken out over a dozen of our top guys. "

The once fat man shuddered and said, "Yeah. Look, if he ain't dead let's put him out of his misery."

"Are you out of your mind?! If Samson found out we'd be the one in the iron maiden."

They both shuddered. And I must have lost it. They were NOT touching my son. Blam. One down. Blam. Dang, I missed that time. Blam, blam, blam. That skinny guy sure could weave and dodge but I'd had enough. Apparently so had James. Even injured he was a better shot than I'd ever be. Bloody, laying on his gun, he still managed a head shot on a moving target.

But the jarring of the gun was too much for him. He cried out in pain and all but tried to curl into a fetal position.

A snapping in the bushes had me spinning around again, gun ready.

"Whoa! Sissy, don't shoot!"

It was Waleski. As soon as he saw that I had the gun under control he rushed over to James. "Damn Sissy, what do you put in your family's Wheaties?! Matlock saw the tower go and he said there was no way that James could have survived it."

"Then why are you over here?" I asked shocked and immediately angry that they had just labeled James as a casualty without making sure.

"Scott." But when he said it something in me starting shaking.

"You mean Scott sent you over here to make sure."

His hesitation, though brief, had me ready to scream. "No."

"Where is he? Where is he?!"

"Sissy calm down, there's nothing you can do … "

"Don't you say that. Don't you dare say that. Where is he?!"

He looked up to the palisade between what used to be the NW guard tower and the right front gate tower.

An arm hung off the palisade. I knew that arm. I knew the shirt. I knew the wedding ring on the hand. "No. No. No." That's all I could say.

"Sissy we need to get James out of here. I need to get him someplace so I can patch him up. Dix is trying to re-take the gate towers. As soon as he does we'll get up there and get to him. There's just no way to do it right now. We CAN get James to safety."

No one will ever know how hard it was for me to just leave him there. Not having seen his face. Not knowing for sure.

The only thing that got me moving was the sure knowledge that had our positions been reversed I would have expected Scott to do what had to be done.

"Sissy, this is going to hurt him but I don't have any choice. You're too short to carry him. We could put him on a travois but if we had to move fast we might have to abandon him. And someone has to act as security. Sissy, are you listening to me?"

I nodded, still looking at Scott's out stretched hand. Then I shook myself. "What do you need from me?"

"I'm going to put him across my shoulders and carry him back to your place. I'll be as gentle as possible but it's going to hurt him. I'll be honest, I could be doing as much harm as good but I don't see any other choice at this point. I'm not going to move any faster than I have to but we've gotta move. They'll be sending someone after those two. You're going to need to keep an eye out for the enemy and help me get through the bushes. Can you do that?"

I've never been in such a cold place in my life. All of my warmer emotions seemed to have frozen up. I told him, "There's nothing I won't do to save my son. And anyone that tries to get in the way of that better pray they've taken care of everything they need to do in this life because they'll shortly be leaving it."

Waleski's eyebrows disappeared into his hair line. "All righty then. James, listen up kid, this is going to hurt like a sumbitch. But we gotta move as quiet as possible so try and keep it down as hard as that might be. If you pass out, don't worry about it. Just try not and puke. That won't be fun for either one of us. OK, here we go."

Waleski wasn't a big man, but he was deceptively strong. He had James up and across both of his shoulders in a fireman's carry in just a few seconds. Amazingly enough, except for a few problems walking through the loose sand in the orange grove, we didn't have any problems getting back to the house. All the action seemed to have settled in at the front gate area with another small pocket of fighting at the rear gate.

Brandon covered us so we could come me in safely. There were more permanently dead in front of our house than any other location I had seen thus far. Angus had done what he set out to do … and so had Brandon.

Seeing us Brandon said in relief, "Please check on Uncle Angus. I think he's hit. They tried to rush the house about 15 minutes ago. A couple of them got close enough that Angus took 'em on hand-to-hand with that big club of his. Then some guy let off some buckshot and I heard Angus start swearing really loud. Some guy went flying backwards into the yard with his head bashed in but I haven't heard anything else in five minutes or so. I was just about to go check on him except there are some raiders over behind those bushes and I was afraid if I left my post … "

"Hold steady kid," Waleski told him. "You did good. Give me time to put James down and I'll check on Angus too."

I called for Rose and Melody and they rushed in to help with James. The girls were both already exhausted. Sarah calling from another room yelled, "Rose! Mrs. Murial is making that funny sound again!"

Waleski looked a question at Rose and she said, "I think she is stroking out."

"Shit! Do what you can for James. Where is she?"

"On the floor in the girls' bedroom," she answered as she started to cut away James' clothes.

I knew what that meant and confirmed it when I saw Rose had put some kind of bit in Murial's mouth and strapped her arms and legs down to a makeshift stretcher.

"Sissy, help me get her to the carport. She's about to expire and the undertaker's tool isn't something even I can stomach to use in a damn frilly pink canopied bed."

Moving as quickly as we could we hauled the stretcher out of the house and away from the children. Passing through the house I saw Angus wave to me as Melody was bandaging his left bicep. Josephine and Maddie were both lying on the floor in the living room. Josephine had her eyes covered. The right side of Maddie's face from below her eye to her jaw line was an angry, seeping burn. Callie Morris sat there holding a thick, blood-soaked towel to her big brother Clay's head. Reba was tending to her father who was deathly pale and whose left hand was oddly bandaged and held tight to his body. Rilla sat rocking her two year old son Ty who was pale and limp.

"My God! Where's Rachel? She should be here. Is she getting supplies from the hospital?"

"No."

"No? Is there another group of injured people she's bringing in?"

"Rachel's not coming."


	111. Day 157 (part four)

Day 157 (part 4)

"What do you mean she's not … Oh no. Oh no. What happened?"

"It was the explosion. Everything was already crazy and when the explosion went off … You know how it works. Rachel and I are supposed to grab our gear and be ready. Rachel and I were both running for the hospital when we realized it was raiders. The explosion knocked me on my ass. I turned around to make sure she could get to her feet." He gulped for air, sounding suspiciously close to tears. "It was a piece of something metal. It … it caught her in the back of the head Sissy. She wouldn't have felt a thing and it was instantaneous. Now I'm it. Dammit Sissy, I'm all there is. She was the better medic, had more training, lived and breathed this stuff. She wanted to be a doctor, would have been a great one. Now y'all are stuck with just me. Hell of a thing that is."

I lost what little breath I had left. There were so many things wrong with that scenario I didn't know where to start. But I didn't have time to deal with it right then. Waleski was on the raw edge of something … panic maybe … but still trying to hold himself together.

"I have confidence in you. You are the one we've always chosen to treat people in our family. We'll figure it out."

"Sissy, I don't know if I can do this. But damn if I'll just give up without a fight. Just don't expect miracles."

"Of course not. Miracles aren't man made," I told him.

He just looked at me and shook his head. "Geez. Half the time I don't know what to say to you. "

"It's a talent," I said trying to egg him on a little bit.

"Humph. Are you up for this? It's not pretty."

"Is she really going to turn?"

"Probably. Sissy you know that over 95% of first-deaths result in NRS reanimation. It would be nice to say it wasn't going to happen to those we know and care about but you know damn good and well we can't take that chance," Waleski started out angrily.

"Easy. I was just checking what I thought I knew, not questioning your diagnosis. I know the facts even if I don't like them. Is this a stroke or what?"

"Probably 'or what.' I think it's a seizure and not a stroke. She had a history of them but according to Jerry hadn't had one in over ten years. They never found out what caused them and when the seizures stopped they stopped looking for a medical reason for them. Damn, there she goes."

The last seizure had been too much for Murial's body and she died. Almost instantly however you could see her reanimating. It's hard to describe but you can tell that somehow for a moment no one is home anymore and then suddenly someone is, but it's the wrong someone.

Waleski touched the tool to the top of the head and turned it on. I'd seen how the tool worked before and saying it wasn't pretty was an understatement. A piston like rod punctures the skull and enters the brain. A small fan of wire blades drops out of the rod and begins to spin. Fifteen seconds is all it takes if the puncture is made at the top of the skull. The wires basically shred the brain center and cause enough damage that NRS does not have enough connections to manipulate the host body. The body is still infectious for some time but cannot reanimate.

We placed Murial's body and the sheets we had carried her in inside an NRS body bag. That's the one thing that doesn't seem to be in short supply these days. Those cheap bags designed specifically to keep fluids in until an infected body can be appropriately disposed of. I'd cry for Murial later. Right now there was simply too much other pain that came first. Like my fear that I'd have to stand by while someone did this to Scott.

By that time we had two confirmed dead – Rachel and Murial – several injuries and a lot of missing and unaccounted for. I stood up and started to leave the carport.

"Where the hell do you think you are going?" Waleski demanded.

"I'm going back to Scott."

"Are you out of … you see what's going on. Matlock and Dix, probably all the men, are taking the fight to the enemy. You hear that gunfire?! You have no idea what you'd be walking into. I can't go with you!"

"I didn't ask you to come. I know you have bigger responsibilities than to babysit me."

"What the hell am I suppose to tell your kids?! And Angus will chew my ass if I let you go out there alone."

"Tell my kids that I'm going after their Dad. Tell Angus I said for him to think about what he'd do if he was in my shoes. Move Brandon, and no, you're not coming with me. You're needed for security here. You promised me you'd keep the girls safe."

Without looking back I made my escape and hauled butt to the orange grove and then stopped in the tall grass and tried to pull a plan together in my head. As I was thinking a decomposing hand grabbed my arm in a painfully tight grip. A shambler. It probably came through the gap in the Wall, attracted by all the noise. That's all we needed on top of everything else.

The Mark III was in my hand and I pulled the trigger at point blank range of the corpses forehead. One down and I thought please God don't let there be any more to go.

If I was going to get to Scott I didn't see that I had any choice but to get closer to the fighting. I took a second to reload the Mark III, re-check the rifle, and make sure that my machete was ready too. I then stopped to listen, really listen, to what was going on around me. Waleski was right, walking blindly into battle would not be a good way of surviving it. The fighting was still mainly focused at the two gates but now that I was really listening I could hear confrontations occurring in other parts of the compound.

There was more gunfire close to our house that must have started right after I ran off. I put them all in God's hands and had to trust that Angus and Brandon could hold on.

Then I could tell another small battle seemed to be going on in the NE corner of the compound. That would be the Morris households. That's one family that would not go down without a fight.

I had determined to get closer to Scott by going straight across the grove and then behind the houses between me and the Wall. No one must have thought a lone female would be crazy enough to do what I was doing. Scratch crazy … determined enough to do what I was doing. I passed a group of raiders and they never even noticed me squatting down behind a bunch of azalea bushes. They were too busy looking around in jerky, frantic movements. Something sure had spooked them.

I was about to move on when shots rang out dropping three of the four intruders. I froze and watched Matlock step out of the smoke and drop the fourth with the butt of his rifle. He then took an ax and with several solid whacks made sure they would never rise again.

I thought to reveal myself before I got a look at Matlock's face. He was in a different place. Over the last couple of months I'd begun to suspect that no one in their right mind would really want to make Matlock lose his temper. He could be fiercely protective. He tried to hide it most of the time with humor but no one was laughing now. Before I could make up my mind Matlock put the ax back on a belt loop and hefted his rifle and disappeared into the smoke once again.

As scared as that episode should have made me it was actually comforting in a bizarre way. If we were going down we were by glory not going down without a fight. Every possible attempt was going to be made to hurt the enemy ten times as badly as they hurt us. The only retreat was one to regroup and come back even more vicious and determined than before.

With a renewed sense of confidence I turned to get closer to Scott … and nearly ran into a raider that was tracking Matlock. Here was my chance to save the man that had many times over protected my family.

I thought no sense in drawing any notice to myself. The name of this game was to do as much damage before anyone realized you were there and then move on like a ghost. I pulled the machete and suffered a huge disappointment for my over confidence. The guy was wearing some kind of metal neck guard. Now that I've had time to ruminate on the mistakes I made that day I realize he probably wore it as zombie protection. But at the time I took it as some strange effort to humiliate me personally. I did hit him hard enough to make him gag which is probably the only thing that saved me. He bent over, forcing me to step back. This guy's buddy stepped forward at that exact moment and pulled the trigger of a very big, very loud shotgun.

If I hadn't backed up I would have caught the full brunt of both barrels of the shotgun blast. Instead the blast messily took most of the head off of raider #1. Major ewwww factor. Luckily for me raider #2 was standing in shock looking at the mess he had made and was not wearing a fancy neck brace. Whack! And that was all she wrote. Better luck next time sucker. I think I was getting a bit adrenaline drunk by that time. My reaction certainly wasn't a normal one.

I crept around two more houses and didn't have any further encounters. The closer I got to Hank and Trish's house the more damage I saw and the more debris that littered the ground. And then I saw it; or rather I saw the remnants of it. The house had been blown off of its foundation. The concrete slab was cracked and broken apart. There was … stuff … everywhere. I stopped under a large oak to figure out a way to cross the now open expanse of ground when something fell from above to land across my arm that I had leaned on the tree with.

One look and reality slammed back into place. Gone was the high from the adrenaline rush I had been feeling. Gone was the protective cocoon my mind had woven. I'm a country girl. I know what chitterlings looked like before they are cooked. I was heaving and gagging before I even thought about it. I jumped back and slung the length of intestines off of me as quickly as I could. That made it at least three dead. Whose guts those actually were I didn't know.

Now I could see bloody bits and pieces mixed with the flotsam of household goods that was spread all over.

I hate being snuck up on. The hand on my shoulder nearly gave me a heart attack and I raised my machete in self defense.

"Ya miss me?"


	112. Day 157 (part five)

Day 157 (part 5)

I almost couldn't believe what I was seeing. I looked over my beloved's shoulder to see McElroy and Dix grinning like fools.

I wrapped Scott in my arms and said, "Don't you EVER do that again. Scott Michael Chapman you had me more scared than … more scared than … "

"More scared than I was when I realized you and the boys were stuck out in the horde?"

I just broke down crying at that point and hugged him all the harder.

"Easy Babe. I'm a little busted up."

As fast as I could ask the questions he answered. He'd been on the Wall trying to get to James when the Pirate called Samson had tossed a couple of charges into Hank and Trish's house. Their house is the closest to the Wall on that end. The explosion knocked Scott into the Wall itself, slamming him hard enough to knock him unconscious. The explosion also weakened the supports on the guard tower. Rather than get to a safer position, James had remained and continued to fire, covering his father's helpless body and taking out as many of the enemy as he could. He certainly irritated the pirate, especially when at least two of his shots would have taken him out if other men hadn't stepped into the line of fire. Finally a smaller charge was lobbed at the tower's base collapsing it completely.

Scott came to while Waleski and I gathered James to take him away to safety. He said he could hear us but he was still too stunned to move. After we left, he slowly inched over to the broken place in the Wall, drawing as little notice to himself as possible.

As he was attempting to climb down, David and Cease showed up and helped him down the rest of the way. They also helped him get to our house. They met up with Dix and McElroy right before they reached the carport. Of course this was only to discover I had just taken off again.

After Waleski gave Scott a quick exam and found nothing more than some pretty severe contusions the five men headed back to look for me, knowing I would totally freak out when I didn't see Scott on the palisade. On their way they ran into Matlock. Now six, the men formulated a quick plan that echoed the Pirate's own original diversion. When I heard this I could hear Rachel again saying that I didn't show enough appreciation for the people who put their lives at risk for me. I shut that voice down as quickly as I could. I had enough on my mental plate as it was.

Scott, Dix, and McElroy came to find me and to keep me out of the trouble that was brewing. David and Cease took some of the homemade bombs that Matlock had been experimenting with and escaped out the broken place in the Wall. This time the diversion was going to be a distraction for the pirates. Matlock … well Matlock continued to take the battle to the intruders. Those that got in his way were shown no mercy. Now that Scott and I had been hooked back up, Dix and McElroy ghosted into the smoke to do their own bit of damage to our enemies.

Scott pulled me into his arms one more time now that the other men were gone and gave me a kiss that made the stars fall out of the sky. Wowee; I can still remember the taste of the acrid smoke on both of us but I was passed caring. Everyone in our immediate family had been accounted for. James and Scott were the only injuries thus far and Scott was up and walking. When I mentioned this to Scott he told me that David was bruised up pretty good too.

"He's a scraper that kid. Took on a guy twice his size when his gun jammed. Waleski showed up and shot the guy but not before David had put up a good fight and given some of us a chance to get into a better position."

"Hmmm. That must have been part of what set Waleski off. He wanted to know what we fed our kids."

Scott gave a dark chuckle and we did our own fade into the smoke and were heading for the native grove when three large explosions, one right after the other, went off outside the front gate. Scott and I hesitated and looked at each other. We both sent up silent prayers for David and Cease's safety.

I don't know why I had to start shaking at that moment. I'm one of those people that are fine during an emergency or a crisis but after everything should be fine I come apart. While everyone else was crying and rushing around like crazy on our wedding day, I was calm and as cool as a cucumber; totally serene. We say our vows and walk back to the vestibule of the church to the applause and well-wishes of everyone in the church and as soon as we got to the changing room I fell apart for no reason and couldn't stop crying for nearly five minutes. There are some days when I don't even make sense to myself.

After over 20 years though Scott was used to it and just hid us in some overgrown shrubbery and let me have my momentary breakdown.

"Oh Scott, I'm sorry. It's just everything hit me now that I know you aren't …. " I couldn't even finish saying it. "We have three dead and … "

"More," Scott sighed.

"More what. More? You mean more than three dead on our side?"

"Yeah. Who are you counting?"

"Murial, Rachel, and whoever was in Hank's house."

"I didn't know about Murial. They got Jerry outside the Wall when Cease and he came back on the run after hearing the explosion. No one has seen Hank or Trish. Maddie said they were still in the house when it exploded. She had been taking out their chamber pot which was why she wasn't in the house. The kid has a burn on her face from a piece burning curtains that landed on her."

He paused but he didn't sound finished. "They got Marty too. The kid might have been alright if he could have kept his smart mouth closed. We were almost to him when with one smart comeback and he was shot with no warning. Tom, Bo, and Laura are missing. We can't find them anywhere. That's one of the reasons that Matlock is so crazy. Becky has Jenny and we can't find them either. You can add Dante', Jim, and Jack to the list of the missing as well."

"Oh God," I moaned. "But you might be able to take Dante' and Jack off the list of missing, I saw Jack right after Waleski brought in Patricia. He said he and Dante' were going to cover the rear gate area."

"OK. Jim may be with the Morris families or hooked up with someone else. Or even off fighting on his own. I won't count him down just yet. He's tough as old shoe leather."

"That's … that's six confirmed dead from our group," I said beginning to shake all over again.

"Yeah, and if you've been in the house you see that's only part of our problem. Waleski can't believe it but he doesn't think James has actually broken anything. He may have a cracked rib or two but mostly he is just had the wind knocked out of him and is badly bruised. Probably a concussion as well which is the worst of it next to a long gash on his scalp."

"You'd be so proud of your son. Even as hurt as he was he still managed to save me."

"I AM proud of him. Damn but we must've done something right. He stayed at his post when the rest of us got caught by the diversion. Then he gave us a warning and managed to inflict a pretty heavy toll on the group that was coming over the Wall in front."

"What can we do from here on? I want to check on the kids but at the same time I just don't feel right about not trying to locate the missing. They could be hurt."

"One thing at a time Babe. Matlock and Dix are professionals and they've been trained in street fighting. Dix has all that experience from the Middle East. Matlock and McElroy are the same. The best we can do for them is to stay out of their way."

"But … "

"But me no buts, Babe. However, if you promise not to run off and leave me wondering where you are we'll head back towards the Morris house and see if they need any help. But I want to do it by way of our house to see if any more made the rendezvous."

Once I understood the plan and had something I could focus on I did better. A quick detour to the house revealed that Jim had had Becky and the kids under his wing since the first explosion. They had been pinned down on the other side of the street by gunfire coming from what had started to appear a totally separate group.

Jim explained, "You shoulda seen the mess we just saw mate. Another tic of the clock and I figure things are going to get more interesting than we can stand. That group at the front and the group at the back ain't friends from what I can see. They shoot at each other as much as they shoot at us. We got caught between a group from each side. It took a while but they finally lost interest in us and got cheesed off with each other. Now they've got a real argy bargy going."

Scott look like he had lost what Jim was saying. Doing my wifely duty I translated. Scott gave me the exasperated husband look and said, "I know what he said Sissy, geez. I'm just having a hard time believing it."

Jim laughed, "Believe it mate. We could put the billy on and sit back and let 'em tear each other's arses up. Would make for quite a show. Aw hell though, where's the fun in that? I'd best go see how the Viking is doing. Take 'em a beer and calm him down some. He looks like he's about to blow."

Jim wasn't kidding either. Angus did look like he was about to go off like Mt. Vesuvius. Scott went with Jim and I went to check on Waleski. He'd looked like he was just about ready to blow too.

I found him with Patricia and Rhonda. The room was dark so it was hard to make out their expressions. I cleared my throat and Patricia answered with a weak smile. "I'm OK. No labor so far but this man is turning out to be a bigger mother hen than you are Sissy. Tell him to go fuss over someone else for awhile."

I walked in and asked both women, "You two OK?"

This time it was Rhonda who answered me but most of her old spark was gone. "I am. Patricia says she is. Have you seen … "

"Dammit. Sissy I don't want them upset. They need to stay quiet and still for a while."

"Easy Waleski. They'll be better off for a little news. I've had five of my own and it's the stuff you don't know that causes more anxiety than the stuff you do." Turning and facing them both I told them, "As far as I know both men are OK. Jack is at the rear gate and McElroy is up near the front gate. Both men are doing their job and wouldn't want you two to worry. I know that sounds stupid. I've felt the same thing when Scott has said it to me. But just take it easy and trust they know what they're doing."

After a little more chitter chatter I walked out of the room with Waleski. "How are you holding up? Are there any supplies or anything else you need?"

Waleski at his most charming answered, "I need about 10 years of medical school and six more personnel to help me. You got that handy?"

A quiet voice from behind me said, "'Ski, why don't you take a break. The girls and I can handle it for a second. Go wash your face if nothing else."

And Waleski actually went. I couldn't believe it. Rilla gave me a tired smile. "He doesn't mean it half the time you know. He's just under a lot of stress."

I smiled thinking that love blossoms at the darkest of times. "I know he doesn't mean it and it doesn't bother me. How's Ty, he wasn't looking good last time I was in here."

"He's fine thank God. That big man, the one they call Samson, jerked him out of my arms and threw him against the house. My two year old baby. What kind of rabid animal does that? You can guess what the bastard wanted from me. Grandad got hurt trying to save us. Aunt Reba unloaded a shotgun into the two guys that were with Samson and the cowardly pile of dung run off. Aunt Reba and I got Grandad and Ty over here as quick as we could. 'Ski had to … he had to cut off Grandad's thumb and pointer on his left hand. He lost a lot of blood but there wasn't any help for it. Those evil monsters shot the ends of them off."

"Oh no. Oh Rilla … "

"No don't. We're all alive and that's more than some can say. We finally got Clay's head to stop bleeding and Callie is holding up better than I ever thought. Everyone else is hold up back at the house and picking off any raiders that come in the back area. You wanna see James?"

"Yes, please! Which room is he in."

"He's in his own bed and Bekah and the little boys are lying down in there too to keep an eye on him. He kept trying to get up and get back in the fight."

"That sounds like his Daddy."

"That sounds like his Daddy and his Momma," Rilla said with a tired smile.

Oh James looked rough, but he'd finally decided to do as he was told and stay put. Probably because he was stiffening up and couldn't move as quickly as he would have needed to. I left him resting though awake so that Bekah could check on him to make sure the concussion wasn't more serious than expected. I gave him just enough information to satisfy him but not enough to get him wound back up. He could hear the constant sound of gunfire and explosions from outside. Scott came in right as I was thinking of a good exit strategy. Another minute and we both left him as Waleski came in to check him over once again.

We had just stepped back out onto the carport and Scott was opening his mouth to say something when Angus, Jim, and Brandon began firing. They were giving cover to the Morris family who were coming in. Kevin and Betty were helping Clark along and J. Paul was carrying his cousin Claire who bounced limply in his arms.

Kevin gasped, "They're going crazy out there. Shooting at each other, fighting amongst themselves, it's every man for himself, and we've got a small horde – maybe three dozen zombies – at the back gate that are going to be inside in short order.

Scott and I just looked at each other. What was there to say? All of the racket was bound to draw out the remaining stragglers left over from the Big Horde. It wouldn't be luck to not have zombies, it would be a blazing miracle. The luck was that there were no Ragers or any other of the bizarre types of zombies in with the ones that had shown up.

Angus and Jim joined us for a quick conference. With the majority of our people now in our house we thought it a good time to pull in the welcome mat and lock it down. If the enemy had discovered that most of our people were in a single building things could have gotten nasty fast. Fortuitously they didn't appear that smart ... although later we found out that they wanted the women and children alive for slave labor and, well, other things.

Brandon, Kevin, and J. Paul became lead defenders for the location. Everyone else in the house that was mobile made weapons and ammo handy just in case more help was needed. James talked someone into moving him to the front room where we had cut a gun slot in one of the shutters. Patricia and Rhonda, as well as the youngest kids, were moved back into our storm room. We dropped the roll-down door on the front and then exited through the pantry and into the carport. The security door into to the house from that entrance was dropped and locked.

None of the men were exactly excited about me coming with them but each one had run into my stubborn streak enough to know that it would have been a waste of time and energy to try and talk me out of it. Jim and Angus wished Scott luck and gave him the male version of "better you than me fella" while I handed them some carb bars, jerky, and a couple of water cubes. After they stowed the energy food they went out separately on their own search and destroy mission.

I hefted the backpack I had stuffed with similar energy foods like I had given to Angus and Jim and waited for Scott's next move.

"You ready?" he asked.

"I'm following your lead," I answered.


	113. Day 157 (part six)

Day 157 (part 6)

We decided against going to the front gate area, at least for now, as it sounded like things were heating up with more automatic gun fire. That was our military guys. And it didn't sound like it too Angus or Jim long to find some trouble of their own to get into. We took the zombies as our priority. We knew how to eradicate zombies and if we did that then it would leave the others free to do what they were best at.

Scott had his AK47 and I had my little .22 and the safeties were off. Naturally Scott would be able to do much more damage with his rifle than I would with mine, but I simply hadn't gotten the hang of staying on my feet when shooting the weapons with heavier recoils. Everyone had tried to teach me but more often than not I still wound up on my backside. No one could figure out what I was doing wrong because if I had someone bracing me from behind I was just fine, even if all they did was to put their hand on my shoulder. It was James who said I was shifting my center of gravity too much at the last second. I still haven't figured out how to lean into the shot rather than away from it without wrecking my shoulder or overcompensating. On my face or on my butt, neither one was the position you were supposed to find yourself in after shooting a gun. So until I do figure it out its safer for me, and anyone in the general vicinity, if I just stick to the .22 and/or the Mark III.

We avoided the main road and just went behind the hospital and then through the line of trees we had left to stand as a wind break and shade lot. Just on the other side of the trees was the line of houses that faced the east fence and the rear gate. Scott moaned in pain and I completely understood. All the work we've been doing over the last couple of months to preserve living quarters and storage houses has been undone. Windows are shattered, doors have been kicked in, the block walls of the homes have multiple chips and chunks taken out of them all over. At the time we didn't know what the inside damage was but it has turned out to be extensive. And after all the damage the Big Horde had done to the immediate area surrounding Sanctuary we'd have to go much further afield to find replacement parts for everything. Scott sighed deeply and I could tell he was furious but putting it aside for something to deal with later.

Kevin had been right. It didn't take the zombies long to start breaching the rear gate. The gate itself didn't look damaged but the bar had been removed and the locking chains lay on the ground.

"Someone opened the gate and then didn't close it behind them. Idiots," Scott growled.

I wasn't too happy myself. A terrified shriek rent the air and we turned just in time to see a raider being used as a teething toy by a small zombified woman. Since we were so close and it was a shot I could definitely make I used the .22 to put the man and the zombie down permanently. We had been spotted by several zombies and we needed to get to high ground and we need to get there right away.

A piercing whistle drew our attention up to the top of the rear gate tower. Dante' was making come on motions with his hand. Someone, turned out to be Jack, lowered the tower ladder just long enough for us to run over and climb up rung-by-rung until we reached the top. Four adults in the space was a tight fit but Scott and I didn't intend on staying any longer than we had to.

The men were low on ammo so Scott shared what he brought while I handed out some food and drink. I don't know which they were happier to see.

Both men had suffered from a few close calls judging by their disheveled appearance and a little blood seeping through makeshift bandages here and there. After a quick sip of water Dante' wanted to know if we had seen his family. I told him Laura and Bo were at the house but none of us could remember seeing Tina. Dante' looked bleak and shaken at hearing that but he kept holding on to hope. I told Jack that Patricia was still OK. I did what I could to make sure that no one was going to bleed to death or suffering from an infection and made a mental note that we had been remiss not to require every adult and child in Sanctuary to have gotten more first aid education. We were going to have to do more cross-training and it couldnt' wait.

Another scream alerted us to the fact that the raiders didn't have any more luck dealing with zombies than we did.

Dante' said, "We've been pinned down up here for a while now. We've done what we could but mostly we just harried the raiders and gave them a hard time. As long as the zombies weren't bothering any of our people we've left them alone. The infected created a bunch of panic in this group at the rear gate when they showed up. Sissy, you got any painkillers on you … aspirin, Tylenol, something like that? I don't want to lose my edge but my leg is really thumping."

While I dug around in my emergency pack for the bottle of Tylenol 3 Jack added, "Yeah, and I'm almost positive they aren't part of the enemy group at the front gate. See, look at those two over there going at it. The guy wearing colors is from the group that came in through the rear gate and reminds me of the gangs in Miami. The guy without colors is from the group at the front gate. They go at each other every chance they get, like rival dog packs. If they started out with a truce, it's long over with."

I halved one of the Tylenol 3 tablets and gave it to Dante' and then wrapped the other half in a bit of plastic wrap. "This stuff has codeine in it. See if half a tablet cuts the pain before taking the other half. The last thing you need to be is up here shooting a gun and woozy. But you're so tall it may take the whole tablet to do you any good."

Scott and I figured that this was as good a time as any to try and work our way around to the other side of the compound now that we new Jack and Dante' had enough ammo to keep most of the zombies from getting into the compound. I thought using them as a limited assault weapon was pretty ingenious. Scott was more conservative and said it was more like the love/hate relationship that most countries had with weapons of mass destruction. The fact that we were willing to use the zombies like that and even let a few into the compound only highlighted how badly off we were.

I couldn't argue with him and didn't even try. Soon after that we took a chance and came down the ladder even faster than we went up. My 40-something body, despite being in better shape than I've been in since I was a teenager, was starting to complain … loudly. The last two weeks of stress and illness was also telling on me.

Scott must have noticed because we didn't get very far onto the south side of the compound before he pulled us into the shrubbery and trees that made up the SE corner. He put me against the Wall and him between me and the rest of the compound. "Sissy, are you sure you are up for this? You're getting a little gray around the edges."

Thinking to brush his concern aside I said, "Hey, I come by these gray hairs honestly."

"Sissy, I'm not joking," he said looking me straight in the face.

I sighed. "Scott, I'm 42. I'm not some young chippie that has spent all of her time at the fitness center counting carbs and doing pilates. Yeah, I'm 'feeling the burn.' But I'm OK. Just don't take off like a jack rabbit and I'll be able to keep up."

Scott didn't look entirely convinced but conceded that it was a little late for second thoughts. Scott and I both nearly had a stroke when a caramel colored fuzz ball stood up and put its paws on our shoulders.

"Dammit Sundance," Scott fussed while trying to avoid having his face licked off. All I could think was that I hope he'd brushed his teeth since the last time he had eaten somebody. His coat was heavily flecked with dried blood but he had suffered no injuries himself.

Scott tried to brush the dog out of the way but he was so insistent that we finally noticed he was trying to herd us in a specific direction. Scott and I looked at each other and finally allowed the dog to lead us where he wanted us to go.

We wound up behind Dix's house. The white Victorian had taken at least as much damage as all the other houses, maybe more. In the backyard were two men that had had their faces mauled pretty badly. They still twitched but death would visit them shortly and they would need to be sanitized. Scott wasn't in the mood to wait. Death for them would have been inevitable anyway even with access to modern medicine. Their faces were ripped off and their abdomens punctured. Euthanasia was the best choice. Scott took a mallet and a heavy, metal awl off of his ever present tool belt. He placed the awl against each man's forehead and hit it with the mallet, puncturing skull and destroying the brain beneath. The mallet and awl approach made it a little more personal but it did cut down on the noise that could attract the wrong people.

While Scott took care of the men, Sundance continued to be insistent that there was something under the porch that we needed to see. I absolutely hate going into crawl spaces. You never know what you are going to find but the dog wouldn't stop. I crawled over to the lattice work that was supposed to keep most of the bigger varmints out from under the house. And then I saw her.

She was only half clothed and the physical trauma that I could see made it obvious she had been assaulted.

"Scott, I need a blanket or something out of the house. Curtains, anything like that."

"What? Oh my God. Who is it?"

"Tina. Just go please. I think she's in shock and we've got to get her over to Waleski."

Tina's eyes were open but she was pretty unresponsive to all my overtures. Scott and I wrapped her up in a tablecloth the best we could and then tried to figure out how we were going to cross the road.

"Aw shit!"

Scott and I both turned while Tina whimpered. "Dammit Dix don't do that! I could have shot you man!"

"How bad is she?"

Why everyone was looking at me I didn't know. "Well for pete's sake how do you think she is you blonde ape?! God, Dix that's a stupid question," I snarled.

"Sorry," he said slightly abashed. "Matlock should be here any … "

Matlock came out of the bushes at that moment looking like he'd been play Rambo complete with a soaked bandana wrapped around his hair and bulging biceps. I glared at him, daring him to ask the same stupid question Dix had just asked.

"You seen my kids and Becky?" he asked a bit desperately.

"Yeah, they're in the house with everyone else. Tina was the last person unaccounted for."

Matlock nearly fell down in relief. "OK. Cease and David are just about to set off the last of the charges. It's going to be a huge explosion. We've interrogated a few of the enemy and have found out all we can." His use of the word interrogation was accompanied by dead eyes and clinched fists. I didn't say anything at the time I knew Scott and I would talk about it later. Matlock did what he thought needed doing at the time. For my part it's not something I'd want to be a part of over the long haul. I know Scott's view was more practical and prosaic and consequently made me even happier to let the subject drop.

While Matlock grabbed something to drink Dix explained, "They placed the charges in the pirate's remaining operational vehicles and around that Dumas building. That's where their leaders are holed up. The only one we can't locate is that big shit they call Samson. Sissy can you take care of Tina over here? We've got to get into position and there isn't time to get her over to your house."

I looked at Scott and he looked at me. We silently agreed at the same time, reaching out to grab the other in a tight embrace and kiss. He touched my face and then they were gone and I was left alone with Tina trying to figure out our best course of action. I looked for Sundance but he'd left to keep hunting after delivering his ward into our care.

Just then the largest explosion I hope to ever be near ripped through the late afternoon sky.

I was thinking, "Thanks for the freaking understatement, Dix" as I laid over Tina's upper body trying to protect her. To me it sounded like a dozen transformers blowing all at the same time but I could also hear smaller explosions within the main explosion. I was afraid to even think what things must look like out along the front of the Wall on US41. The road had to be shot. I didn't even know how much of the Wall still stood.

It was like the explosion had sucked all of the sound out of the world. I stayed down because I was afraid that debris would start hitting the ground but if it did it didn't come down where we were at. I said to myself, "It's now or never girl. Get your butt up and get going."

Temporarily leaving Tina, I ran around to the front of the house and peaked out. Looking towards the NW, the remnants of what had to have been a large fireball was still visible though it was nothing more than a rolling mushroom shape by the time I laid eyes on it. I realized that since I could see that smoke cloud that the smoke from the burning tires had gradually faded away. That had to be a good thing.

The road was free and clear of any enemy which I considered another good thing. I ran back around and had just bent down to try and get Tina somewhat upright so I could drag her to the house when a powerful slap up side my head sent me reeling.

I have to say I haven't been clocked like that since I was in highschool. We were stuck in the gym one rainy PE class and I had walked too close to some kids who were showing off their prowess on the uneven bars and got clipped by a tennis shoe clad foot. I didn't pass out then and I didn't pass out this time either but my bell sure was rung pretty hard.

The earring had been ripped from my ear and my balance was gone. As I staggered trying to keep to my feet I caught a glimpse of another slap coming my way and was just able to dodge so that I only got a piece of it. The force still put me on the ground looking up into a face that could have been a model for a Renaissance painting of a demon from hell. I could see where the man had been handsome early in life but dissipation and inner character had written their tale across his features leaving a devilish countenance behind. No woman in her right mind would have done anything other than run in the opposite direction after one glimpse.


	114. Day 157 (part seven)

Day 157 (part 7)

He reached down and pulled me up by the front of my shirt. "A little old for my taste but you'll do in a pinch."

Bastard. Like I told Scott I earned my fine lines and gray hairs. I started fighting back and he shook me like a rag doll. "Like it rough do you bitch. This oughta be fun."

OK, I knew that my life was on the line and while in most circumstances rape wouldn't kill me, rape by this monster just might. My feet were clear off the ground and I was punching and kicking him with all I had. I got lucky and the punch I had meant for his nose actually landed my thumb in his eye. Boy did he squall at that. He tossed me against the house and I landed hard on my side, knocking the wind from me.

After calling me more than a few unflattering female epitaphs he said, "Oh how you're gonna pay for that."

Oh no I wasn't. The fall had ripped open the strap that held the machete in its sheath and the thing practically popped into the hand I was laying on. I took the blessing as it was offered and raised it to defend myself. I had only meant to scramble to the side as he came at me but and I tripped over an exposed tree root. Down I went and the machete with me. It left a neat and deep slice right along his groin area.

I had the presence of mind to scramble away as he grabbed his crotch. "You bitch! You bitch! You cut me!"

Blood was pouring through his hands and was running down legs. I had hit the femoral artery without even trying. I must have sliced it clean in two because he bled to death in a matter of seconds.

I was shaking and wanted Scott so bad I nearly screamed his name and damned the consequences. But at the same time I knew I needed to pull myself together before he saw me or his pain would wind up being worse than mine.

Tina had started sobbing; great, huge, gasping convulsions. That gave me something to focus on. I ran over to her and she grabbed me tight enough to squeeze the air from my already sore chest. I got one arm out of her grip and put it around her shoulders. By the time I got her up and moving she had calmed down enough to help me get her first to the side of the house and then after a pause to the front of the house. They must have seen us through the shutters because Kevin and Waleski were standing ready to help me with Tina while Brandon kept us covered.

All five of us hustled into the house with Brandon stopping only long enough to put the security door back down.

I was going to help Waleski with Tina until he pushed me in a chair and told me to stay put. He, Rose, and Melody took her into the girls' bedroom. A moment later Waleski came out looking stricken and angry at the same time. He looked like he was going to explode. Betty, a bandage on her ankle and around her head, came to him and put her arm around him. "It's OK honey. Let us women take this one. Reba and I used to volunteer at the women's center. We know what to do."

She pushed him in my direction where Rilla was already putting disinfectant on my ear.

"What the hell happened?!" he asked in a barely controlled, volcanic voice.

"I don't know Tina's details but I just had a blonde mountain fall on me."

"Sissy you look like …. Geez … you look like Scott is going to go into cardiac arrest as soon as he sees you."

"That good huh?"

"Sissy, I'm not kidding," his voice had moderated down into one of professional concern.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll be fine. The guy's dead, I'm not, God's good, end of story and I'd rather not talk about it anymore if you don't mind."

I could tell he didn't want to let it go but he did, though I knew I could probably expect to have to tell the full story at some point. All I was hoping at the time was that I had time to come up with something close enough to the truth that Scott would believe me without feeling the need to go kill the guy all over again.

At that second I registered my mistake. Oh crap. He was dead but he wasn't sanitized.

"Oh God. Let me out. I've got to go!" I grabbed my gear and ran to the pantry.

"Sissy, stop! I need to check out your face!"

I rolled up the side door just enough to crawl underneath it and yelled at Brandon to shut it behind me. I could not believe how impossibly stupid I had just been.

I figured I had minutes at most before Blondie reanimated. If he had reanimated already I didn't have that long to kill him permanently dead.

As luck would have it I was too late. The sand was saturated with blood that hadn't even had time to congeal but he was already gone.

I looked in all directions and then thought to stop and really listen. To my left, I heard something going east crashing and thrashing through the bushes. It sure was making a lot of noise for something that had just comeback. That was sooo not good.

Rifle in hand and ready, I set off to track him as quietly as I could. I gave up quiet in favor of quick when I heard shouts of "Rager!" and screams of "Holy Mother of God! Help me!" I came into a clear space that measured about twenty by twenty. On the far side was Blondie ripping not one or two, but three full grown men to shreds.

I wanted to kick myself for being so stupid. Why did it have to turn out to be a Rager?! It gave credence to the unproven argument that only certain types of people or people with certain personality types could turn into ragers. I didn't have time to play amateur biologist however. Leaning against a tree to brace myself I was about to take my shot when four of the color-clad raiders ran into the clearing with guns blazing.

Where did these guys learn to fight?! Not a one of them made a headshot. All they did was manage to wind the Rager up even more. At least they had the sense to run. What's the old joke about the two guys running from the bear? One didn't have to run faster than the bear, he just had to fun faster than the other guy. The same thing is true of Ragers. You don't really have to be faster than the Rager, you just have to be faster than the slowest person running from the Rager.

Three of the four gang-colored raiders escaped. The fourth was the slowest and distracted the Rager just enough. I'd seen what a Rager was capable of. Unfortunately for me I got to see it up close and personal this time. It was ripping the still living man's chest cavity open to get to the soft tissue inside.

I must have been out of my mind because I took that moment and stepped behind the Rager, put the Mark III to the back of his head that was buried deep in the guys stomach slurping intestines like spaghetti, and started pulling the trigger. I didn't stop pulling the trigger until all ten bullets in the magazine were rattling around in its skull and it's body had stopped twitching. For good measure I took my machete and decapitated it.

All I could do was stand there breathing heavy. Then it hit me. I ran back to the tree and started puking. Actually it was more like uncontrollable heaving. I hadn't had much to eat at all the whole day and there wasn't anything to bring up. I hate puking. I always feel like someone is trying to strangle me. There's not much scarier than trying and not being able to draw breath because your throat is locked in battle with your stomach.

I heard the dry oak leaves crackling and I turned swiftly to put my back to the tree. 'Course I hadn't gotten around to reloading the Mark III which left me gripping the machete for dear life.

"Damn Sissy. " It was Angus. He was banged up, bruised and blood splattered but smiling like a lunatic.

"What the heck are you smiling at?!" I asked incredulously.

"Just wondering how Scott's kept his head all these years."

"By being smart enough not to irritate me past my endurance you …," and that's when I caught a glimpse of the strangers behind him; two women and six kids.

"Angus?" I aked a lot less beligerantly.

He got very serious and introduced me to the two young women. "Sissy, this is Cindy this other girl is Tasha. That's all the information they were willing to share. The kids won't tell me their names at all. They were being held in a house over behind the Dumas building. They won't say much but I'm guessing they weren't there because they wanted to be."

"You killed Samson," the one called Cindy said in wonder, staring at the now permanently dead corpse.

"I killed who?"

The one called Tasha said, "Samson, the Captain of the pirates. He was the leader and the biggest … I can't believe he's dead. I can't believe … "

I looked at Angus suddenly nervous. "Please tell me that's a good thing."

Cindy, who'd pulled herself together and put an arm around Tasha said, "Yes. That's a very, very good thing. That man was a … There's not really words for what that … that … " She cleared her throat and continued. "He was criminally insane by any definition you want to pick. Even his top lieutenants were deathly afraid of him. The things he did … they aren't fit to repeat. You put his head on a pike for the pirates to see and they'll run like rabbits thinking you've got someone even worse than him on your side."

"Hmmm. Think I'll just go ahead and try that," and Angus grabbed the disembodied head and carted it off at a run towards the front gate.

We all stared after him as he jogged away. I don't think I'll ever get the picture he made out of my mind.

Tasha asked, "Is he crazy too?"

At a loss how best to answer I replied, "It's been suggested."

Then I said, "Look we need to get out of here. If things weren't settling down Angus wouldn't have left us. But things aren't completely … Oof!"

Mischief and Mayhem had come in behind me and nearly knocked me down. "Oh, he left you two as babysitters did he?" Both dogs grinned in doggie fashion and tried to herd us into a group but the kids were terrified of them.

"Easy. These dogs are fierce but they're French Mastiffs. They're just trying to get us into a better group so they can guard us against the bad guys. They really don't like people that hurt little kids. It's OK, let them sniff you. They may rub up against you and lick you, just try and ignore the doggie breath. It's how they say hello."

The kids all bundled together between Cindy and Tasha still shy of the big dogs. For that matter Cindy and Tasha were nervous but too weak to put up much of a fight. The dogs and I led the group up the south fence and across the street to our house. Waleski stepped out into the carport and said, "Wait." when I would have taken them inside. "Sissy, don't look at me like that. We don't know where these people have been or what they've been exposed to."

I put my hands on my hips and was about to let fly when Cindy said, "He's right you know. We all have fleas and at least two of the children have ring worms. There's no telling what Tasha and I have from being exposed to … being with …"

Waleski finally said, "I didn't say I wouldn't treat you but under the circumstances I am going to quarantine you until I can clear you of anything infectious."

Another burst of gunfire from near the front gate had the children whimpering and most of us adults ducking. I left Waleski to do what he thought best.

I stopped for a moment to reload the magazine for the Mark III and to make sure the rifle was still OK. I was debating whether to go to the front or to the back when Jack jogged up.

"Those gang bangers are all dead. Even if a few of them survived the zombies they've taken off by now. Dante' and I have put bullets in all the heads of the ones we've seen and taken down most of the zombies that were still outside the gate. It's closed, barred, and locked. I need some help. Dante' is going crazy. Have you found Tina yet?"

I looked at him and wasn't sure what to say, "We found her. The women are taking care of her now."

"The women … holy … you don't mean … Dante' ain't gonna take this well. How am I supposed to tell him?"

"I'll tell him. Is he still up in the tower?"

"No, I hauled him down so we could shut the gate. It's a little bent and off track so it took both of us to slide it. We did what we could and needed to get more ammo. He's coming this way. Is Patricia ... ?"

"She's inside but ask Waleski before you go in. I'm not sure if he has her on bedrest or not." With that I went to intercept Dante' and try and tell him as gently as possible about Tina.

He didn't take it well. He blamed the pirates, blamed God, blamed himself, blamed just about everyone and everything. He even cussed me a little for being the one who told him. Then he went and leaned against the house they shared and bawled his eyes out. "You think she will let me see her?"

"Dante' I don't know. All you can do is go try. If she wants to see you and you don't come, even if it's because you are afraid of upsetting her, she won't understand."

He headed for our house and I've yet to hear how it went exactly. All I do know is that when I did get around to stopping for the night she was curled up in his arms and he was rocking her as he crooned some Cajun lullaby.

There isn't much more to tell after that. Cindy hadn't been exaggerating when she said the sight of Samson's head on a pike would cause the remaining pirates to run like rabbits. Not that there were all that many left to run.

After leaving Dante' at our front door I edged my way up to the front gate. I was half way there when Scott found me … and proceeded to have a major conniption fit. It's not often that Scott shifts into Spanish but Lord have mercy, he wrung some creative cussing out of the language for the next little bit. From what little I could understand he was threatening to lock me in a tower someplace and throw away the key all the while questioning the antecedents of a good many of the enemy. He eventually had to stop and draw breath and that's when I stepped into his arms. He was resistant for a couple of moments - the man does like to hold onto his mad when he gets going - but in the end he relented and we held onto each other for dear life.

He tilted my head back and looked at my face, then gently ran his finger along my eyebrows and kissed my forehead. I hadn't looked at it yet at the time but I could feel how tight the right side of my face felt. I had a spreading bruise from just behind my jaw up to my cheek. My ear was also bruised and swollen. I think that hurt worse than anything else. The earrings I had been wearing were a pair that Scott had given me and after I had time to think about it I was upset at losing one of the mates. Johnnie and Bubby have promised to look for it but we'll be keeping the kids no further away than our backyard until we can repair the Wall. The next day the bruise on the side of my face had spread to around my eye despite the fact I hadn't been hit there.

By mutual, if unspoken, agreement we turned and made our way through all of the debris lying all around and towards the front gate. I asked him what to expect. He said, "Think along the lines of the Battle of Berlin at the end of WW2." Oh.

The reality was even more stark than I had expected. The road was cratered and littered with rubble from all the explosions set off by David and Cease. Burned out shells of vehicles were tossed around like matchbox cars that had been forgotten to be put away. Trees were down in both directions on US41 and broken glass lay everywhere twinkling in the rays of the setting sun. I'm surprised we didn't have to deal with fires until Scott told me that Cease and David both had some experience with explosives. I'm not sure I really want to know where two such young men got that kind of experience.

Amazingly the Wall was more or less intact. The wooden telephone poles along the west and north facing fence sections had taken the brunt of the damage, preventing the metal storage containers behind from being destroyed. There were only two places of immediate concern. The NW corner where the explosion of Hank and Trish's house had pushed the containers out and out of line leaving a small gap; and the front gate itself which was bent and mangled beyond repair.

Scott looked over to the south seeing Samson's head on a pike for the first time. "What the hell?"

A sober Matlock had come up beside us and said, "Thank your wife. From what I understand that was the leader of the pirates who they all believed was magically protected by Satan."

All I could do was cringe as I tried to explain what had happened. When I was finished I was sure that Scott was going to have a nuclear meltdown. But instead what I got was … "If you ever … " Cough. "if you ever … " Wheeze. "I swear to God woman … " Another, deeper wheeze.

"Yes dear," was my only reply and I snuggled up under his arm and tried to look like a contrite and obedient wife.

Matlock was looking everywhere but at me and I could see he was struggling not to laugh. I quickly changed the subject, both to avoid any more lectures and to prevent Matlock's bizarre sense of humor setting Scott off again. "Where's Dix?"

That sobered Matlock up real fast. "He's off in the orange grove."

"Why?"

"He's burying Rachel. "

I didn't know what to say to make it better but did ask, "Is there anyone with him?"

"David and Cease helped him dig the grave. They're over there digging all four graves while there is still light."

"Four graves?! You found Hank and Trish?" I asked excited about the thought of two less dead.

"No. There wasn't enough of either one of them to … We can't tell who all the parts belong to, the few that we've been able to find. We figure they wouldn't mind being buried together. We'll put Marty in with them. If we find anything else over the next few days we'll dig another grave for it."

The practicality of it made me shudder. There just wasn't time for the niceties anymore. There was no funeral staff to take care of the less pleasant aspects of death. Usually bodies of the dead had to be sanitized in some way and without embalming services they had to be buried before they began to rot. The people you cared about went into the ground or were cremated as quickly as possible. It was bad enough you had lost them; you didn't want to watch their body decay before your eyes as well.

We could hardly muster a proper guard and we've had the occasional shambler try and walk through the barbed wire we've woven across where the front gate used to be. We discovered our numbers shorted by one more when we woke up this morning. Angus has gone leaving Juicer and the dogs for us to care for until his return. He didn't say where he was going but I have a feeling the pirates had better never stop looking over their shoulders. David told me the look on Angus' face when he shoved Samson's head on a pike and carried it to the top of the pole was straight out of his Ancient European History textbook. It was even worse when he was telling Matlock how the pirates had verbally taunted him with what they were going to do with the women and children he had been protecting. He's not a man to forget a threat like that.

Others wanted to go as well after they found out Angus had left on his own but it wasn't practical. A man on his own can move fast and sneak up on his enemy before they even know he's there. A group on the other hand would raise more suspicion and lose the element of surprise. Besides, all able bodied hands are needed to try and repair or protect what we could before the next rain or cold snap hits.

As much work as there is to do, we've also had to take turns helping Waleski. Rose and Melody are both on the ragged edge of exhaustion. Waleski looks like he'll fall apart if someone looks at him the wrong way. Rilla is helping him but he and he alone is still the one that has to make all the major medical decision. We're going to be feeling Rachel's loss for some time to come, in many ways.

Patricia is spotting every time she tries to get up and move. Not bad but any spotting at her stage in pregnancy isn't good. Rhonda has been violently ill for the last 24 hours. She said it was the same during her first trimester when she was stressed out but Waleski has quarantined her just in case its viral, or God-forbid, bacterial.

James is a mess. He's weak and has slept nearly the last 24 hours around the clock, waking only long enough to eat some of the soup I've kept simmering in my largest soup cauldron over an open fire so that anyone that is hungry can just dip their own out. Waleski thinks it's just his body's way of trying to heal after he refused to give into it the day before. Scott and I sit with him every break we have.

They cleaned Josephine's eyes out but they'll stay bandaged for at least a week before Waleski dare tries to detect any damage. She's terrified she's been blinded for life and for an artist the very idea is particularly traumatizing. She's becoming silent and withdrawn, sleeping most of the time. The only person she consistently reponds to is Brandon when he is around.

Maddie hasn't spoken any more than necessary since she's been brought in. Waleski has kept her sedated as much as possible due to the pain she is experiencing from the burn on her face. They've even had to restrain her hands because she kept pulling at the bandages even in her sleep. Waleski says he thinks the itching is a good thing, a sign of healing, but the burns are worse than anything he has any direct experience with.

Tina started running a fever during the first night. Waleski is pulling his hair out trying to develop some type of effective treatment plan but he just doesn't know what the problem is. He is treating her with antibiotics in the hopes of heading off any systemic infection or STD. The rest of it, the trauma, is being taken care of by Betty who spent a number of years as a counselor at a county-run women's shelter.

Cindy, Tasha, and the kids are content to stay quarantined in the hospital building. They've taken on the job of cleaning it up and Waleski has done everything he can to make them comfortable until he can clear them. The fleas have been treated with daily baths and hydrocortisone on the rash. The ringworm is being treated with an antifungal and topical applications of tea tree oil. All eight in quarantine are taking iron supplements and drinking a strong beef tea with every meal. They are pathetically thin and malnourished.

The rest of us are walking wounded whether are wounds are physical or mental. We do as much as we can and then sit down and rest. When we've caught our breath we get up and start working again. We don't have any choice.

I surveyed the damage to our gardens and could do nothing but weep off and on for nearly an hour. I won't have to start from absolute scratch but I'm not sure how many of the items that had already been planted will survive. I finally convinced Scott to take me to a few of the fruit trees outside of the Wall. I almost wished I hadn't. What the zombies didn't destroy the raiders and pirates ate or destroyed. Our food storehouse wasn't raided but some of the items were destroyed when bullets when through windows. We'll need everything we can salvage.

We have to strain all of our potable water that wasn't completely sealed. I was drawing a pitcher of water from the bottom tap of the barrel nearest the kitchen when I noticed small glass particles sinking to the bottom like ice. That's just one of a million small things we've got to be careful and not allow to slip passed us.

I haven't even begun to touch on the psychological effects of the Raid on Sanctuary. I've noticed some very peculiar behaviors by some of our people already. Everyone jumps way too easily. Tempers are uncertain though when there is an outburst it doesn't appear to be directed at anyone in particular. Dix is ... it's hard to describe what Dix is. He reminds me of a snow topped mountain. The wrong sound and an avalanche could occur obliterating anything in its path.

The older kids get really mad if the younger kids forget and leave their sight. Samuel and Sarah in particular seem to be suffering from this. I finally had to step in and calm them down. They are constantly counting all the children like shepherds with their sheep.

Speaking of animals J. Paul reports that all the animals are accounted for and ironically they were left unmolested though the cows and nannies aren't giving near as much milk as they should. They were stressed by all the fighting. And we have had to walk the pasture to make sure no debris is in there that can hurt them.

I'm exhausted and my shift of watching over the injured is drawing to a close. It will be a relief to lay my body down beside Scott's and try to get some rest. Tomorrow, if I'm able, I'll recount what we learned from Matlock's "interrogations" and from the two women we've taken in.


	115. Day 158

**Day 158 (Jan 5th)**

How fitting that today would normally have been Cleaning Day had we been on our regular schedule. I feel like that's what I've been doing all day one way or another.

Because everything is so crazy and stressed out we've had to go back to everyone living with us or camping in the backyard of our house. The only exception is the eight that are quarantined at the hospital. It makes for an air of managed chaos that is more uncomfortable than I remember it being.

Not a single moment can afford to be wasted right now. During breakfast everyone who was mobile and aged 12 or older – save the two on guard duty who had already been privy to the information we were about to hear, and the two adult women in the hospital – was seated in our backyard. Those who were not mobile or who were 11 or younger remained in the house.

It wasn't pleasant, especially while we were eating, but Matlock gave a rough synopsis of what they had learned from the interrogations that took place during the Raid on Sanctuary. First off, the pirates had recently had a bloody civil war amongst their own very large group. The greater majority remained under the leadership of Samson who was now and forever dead. The smaller band, supposedly no less vicious, has reportedly migrated further south along the Gulf Coast.

The general reasons why the pirates had struck so far inland include that first, they've pretty much denuded the immediate coastal communities within their grasp of all supplies of food and fuel. There are probably a few hidden caches that would be interesting to small groups but it wasn't worth the effort to search and seize them for a group the size that the pirates had grown into. Instead of more work and less waste the pirates chose to set their sights on easier pickings … inland areas and survivor groups. They were supposed to spring board that operation from their base in Tarpon Springs. However it was destroyed by the same Big Horde that struck Sanctuary just prior to Christmas. This leads to the second reason.

Samson's pirate crew had totally shifted their main base of operations into Tarpon Springs. They put all of their eggs in one basket. When the Big Horde slammed into the community all they could do was escape with what little remained on the boats in the harbor. Cindy and Tasha confirmed this. Their families had been some of the first to voice their opposition to the pirate takeover of their community; they were also some of the first to be executed and enslaved when Samson publicly took charge. They were being held on a slave galley – a former charter boat – when the pirates evacuated just ahead of the horde. The need for immediate resupply and a new base speeded up their plans. Instead of infiltration and then treachery, they chose to attack head on and intended to crack us open like a nut.

Fortunately they had been overconfident and their plan failed. Their picture of Sanctuary from what they had overheard led them to a much different picture than the reality. They had expected to find a moderately armed commune-style farm made up mostly of civilians, a high percentage of whom were women and children, with little to no experience in fighting. What they got instead was a community of survivors with a high degree of persistence, a moderate percentage of professionally trained fighters, with the remaining community members being trained-by-experience including the children. Their diversion plus "shock and awe" tactics didn't completely overwhelm us as expected though it did come close.

Their intent had not been to destroy the physical structure of Sanctuary at all. In fact they wanted it intact for their own use. Nor had they wanted to kill the animals or women; again, they wanted them for their own use. However, most of the adult and teenage males as well as the youngest children were to be considered expendable or used for sport. Basically they wanted to scoop out all possible resistance like segments out of grapefruit half and replace the sweet pulp with their own rancid fruit.

Complicating the entire situation was the fact that we became caught in what was essentially a tug of war between two rival gangs; two dog packs fighting over the same bone. There was the pirate crew who attacked from the front and then there was the raggle-taggle bunch of raiders who attacked from the rear. The raiders were much less organized and less experienced with taking armed communities on head first. Their normal modus operendi was to follow the zombie hordes and pick up the scraps that were left after they moved through an area. They rarely engaged the hordes at all, choosing instead to remain at a safe distance. This was why the raiders seemed so inept when they came into direct conflict with the NRS infected corpses. The raiders had been observing us for some time and had thought to move on until they saw their own opportunity in the form of the pirates. They knew our skill level but thought they'd be able to sneak some of our supplies out from under the pirates' noses.

The tally had been completed and for the loss of our six community members we had exacted a toll of at least five dozen from the other two groups combined. Admittedly a large percentage of this number was a result of the explosives that had been set off outside of Sanctuary's Wall by David and Cease. However, this number did not include the depredations caused by the zombies. If you included those numbers you could safely add at least another three or four dozen casualties, but most of these were on the side of the raiders.

Sixty for six; for every one of ours dead we killed ten of theirs. A Spartan might have found joy in that number, I couldn't. It still meant that for no other reason than people being unable to get along and work together for the well being of all that over seventy people had died that didn't need to. That didn't include the needless deaths caused by the zombies.

We had tossed the remains of pirates, raiders, and zombies all into Juicer and had hauled them up to the body dump to be left for the scavengers. Our six were buried with more respect in our small but growing cemetery.

We didn't have a stone mason so head stones haven't been possible. We hadn't really planned for the cemetery to grow like it has. We have simply been marking off where we bury people and mark the head location with decorative stepping stones. A couple of weeks ago Scott had taken a piece of scrap aluminum and inscribed the names of all who had been interred in the cemetery up to that point: Dora, Jose', Hall, Teri, the three unknown refugees from Hale Hollow. Ricky doesn't count; we left him to the carrion eaters. Last night Scott added the names Murial, Jerry, Hank, Trish, Marty, and Rachel. After I saw it I had to find a quiet place and cry thankful that none of my own have yet made it to that plaque of remembrance.

We haven't had time for a memorial of any kind much less a full blown funeral. We've all been saying our goodbyes privately. We voted to table having a community-wide memorial service for the immediate future. If people feel led to have private services they are free to do so but the thinking is that those that are gone are not in a place to be concerned over any type of pomp and circumstance and that we are better off waiting until we can celebrate their lives and not just mourn their deaths.

Either way people are hurting. I held Brandon while he cried yesterday. Not only is he mourning the death of his father and step-family, he is at a loss what to do about and for Maddie and Josephine. We'll help him but in no way do I expect this to be easy on anyone. It was almost easier to accept Murial and Jerry's death because they went together. I only knew them for a short time but I have a hard time imagining one living without the other; but still, that wasn't a choice the pirates had the right to make.

The one that I'm very concerned about is Dixon although I think he isn't quite as bad off as I had originally feared. He's a soldier and in reality so was Rachel. It added a certain understanding of the potential volatility of this life and how temporary some things can be. It doesn't necessarily lessen the grieving process but it does give continuity and connectedness, both strengths that too many people seemed to lack pre-NRS.

I was taking another load of debris that I had swept up to dump into the trailer we were using as a collection point when I accidentally stumbled on Dix in a weak moment. He was sitting on a stump with his head in his hands. He wasn't weeping and that somehow made it even worse; like his pain went beyond the ability to cry.

I don't always understand Dix and why he does things the way he does them. He can be oblivious and dense in my opinion. He really is a good man and means well but with faults that sometimes make it hard for me to see that fact. His pain pulled at me and I couldn't just pass by. The blonde giant looked like he was about to collapse in on himself. I parked the garbage can I had been rolling and went over and put my hand on his shoulder. I didn't say anything. I was afraid of making it worse. He stiffened momentarily and then realizing who was standing there said, "How the hell do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Just … show up. Do that thing, whatever it is, with the … dammit. No matter who it is you just show up and try and make it better."

"Humph. I only wish I had that gift. Look Dix, I'll admit to not really understanding everything with Rachel, but I'd be inhuman not to empathize with the fact that you miss her. And I can't just see someone in pain and not … not … acknowledge it."

"Yeah. She and I, we made mistakes. We shouldn't have … but that's water under the bridge and we did and … I'm not really sorry for it the way I guess I should be. Rachel made me feel damn good in a way being with Patricia never did. Sex was great with Patricia but it was more than sex with Rachel. But in the end … even with the other stuff … I didn't know how to help her. I couldn't save her."

"In the end sometimes the only people that can help us is ourselves Dix. We would have done what we could for Rachel the same as we did for Patricia. Circumstances didn't leave her the time to want to choose a different path than the one she was going down."

Dixon sighed and continued, "She was living in a fantasy. She was very good at keeping her fantasy, her version of reality, hidden from everyone else. I noticed that tendency when we were having the affair. She could turn it on and off, like she was living in two separate worlds. I just thought of it as a talent. She could be so focused and I admired that. It might have bothered some men, but not me. To me it made her strong and strong meant that … that … Strong meant that she wouldn't have to depend on me so much."

I really didn't know what to say to that. I understood what he was saying but the wrong word could have appeared judgmental, could have killed the moment and he needed to talk.

"But her greatest strength eventually became her greatest weakness. She wanted me to live in that fantasy world with her. When we were alone, sometimes it was like NRS, the zombies, Sanctuary, this whole situation was a military training exercise. She had to act like she believed it one hundred percent but deep down she actually believed that they'd eventually call an end to the exercise and we'd all return to the way things used to be. Then she started having trouble keeping her two worlds separate."

"Was she a danger?" I asked concerned that we had missed something like this for so long.

"Only to herself. She was 200% committed to those she cared for. Things started getting shaky when she was nearly bitten that day. Patricia surprised the hell out of us. First she'd known about us all along and then she just … let go. See, I know Rachel loved me. She did want to be with me publicly, out in the open. She wasn't ashamed of what we had. But to finally have that as a possibility meant that she also had to accept that all of this other stuff was real. She couldn't do that. She wasn't ready or willing to let the fantasy go. The two worlds she lived in started to collide more and more … I didn't know what to do for her. She was headed for a meltdown. As her lover I wanted to protect her. But as a leader here in Sanctuary I had to … "

That part I did understand. "Dix, you did the best to protect her that you could. It would have destroyed Rachel not to be able to do what she did. Maybe it would eventually have come to that but we needed her as much as she needed us. We just don't know for sure what would have happened."

Then he pulled a bit of a non sequitur on me. "You really believe in a God don't you?"

A little suspicious of the sudden shift in conversation I admitted, "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"You think God is just sitting up there playing games with our lives? Making stuff like this crap happen?"

I took a breath and tried to answer him as honestly as possible. "I think that people blame God for a lot of things that are man's fault. I believe that he created us with free will. I think we abuse that gift a lot and don't want to take on the responsibility or results of that abuse."

I don't think that is exactly the answer he'd expected. "So your God isn't omnipotent."

"No, I'm saying I'm not omnipotent. I'm saying I don't have all the answers but that I do think that if people took their responsibilities in this life more seriously there'd be a whole lot fewer problems. The pirates chose their path. They are directly responsible for Rachel's death. I believe real miracles are few and far between in this life because we don't really believe in them anymore. Most of us have to live with the fact that we are finite beings and that we have to conform to the physics of this existence."

"Who knew? A philosopher and a house wife," he said a little snarkily.

"Hey, five kids will do that to you."

That got a small, sickly grin but it was quickly gone. "I don't know if I want to do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"Be responsible for so damn many things, so many people. One mistake and … "

"Dix, we all go through times when we feel that way. But I promise you, you wouldn't be where you are at unless we supported you and believed in you. We have too many strong people in Sanctuary. Not just anyone could be a leader of a group like ours."

That made him look at me.

"You think I'm kidding? Just because I don't always agree with you doesn't mean I think I could do a better job than you. It's the same for Scott, and I'm sure it's true for everyone else as well. You have a lot to offer. Rachel knew it too. I don't know why things had to happen like they did, but I do know that she would not have wanted to see you give up and turn your back on something you're good at, something that is as much a part of you as breathing. That's not going to bring her any kind of justice at all."

I left him to his thoughts and continued on with my own. I really did believe that Dix was a good leader. I didn't think I could do a better job of it than him. The question I asked myself was whether he would continue to believe in himself.

The rest of the day continued in the same vein off and on. Those of us that could, started the process of cleaning up. Two people would pass each other and sometimes they would stop, share their strength with one another, then move on to continue each going their own way to complete their assigned task. We were doing what communities down through the ages have done. We were picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves off, and trying to get on with the business of living.

The question we'll be discussing tomorrow though is whether we are going to continue doing the business of living in this particular location. Dante' is the one who brought it up. I think part of him thinks that getting Tina away from here, away from where she was raped, will help her heal. I'm not so sure of that. Running away never solved anything. On the other hand he did bring up some other points that have merit and we've all agreed to look at them and discuss the possibility. Even Scott and I.

But that's tomorrow. Tonight I've put all the children to bed and made sure everyone had a place to sleep and could find what they needed during the night. I set the bread dough to rise so that it can be put to bake first thing in the morning. Scott put bruise balm on my face and disinfectant on my ear, wincing nearly as much as I did. And now my work is finished and it's time to blow out the lamp and crawl into the bed that Scott has already warmed up for me. Tomorrow is just going to have to wait until tomorrow.


	116. Day 159

**Day 159**

It was really hard to make myself get out of bed this morning. The only thought that I could find that motivated me was that the children would be hungry if I didn't. Betty met me coming down the hall and we gave each other exhausted grins. We agreed that if anybody wanted something fancy they better be prepared to cook it themselves. All we could manage was grits, biscuits, and slices of canned ham. No complaints but it wasn't exactly a meal to write home about either.

I guess I owe Waleski an apology of sorts. It appears that All six of the kids in quarantine have some kind of rash with fever. The two women do not so we aren't exactly sure what it is. Waleski is treating it like it was plague or something. He suspects that it is scarlet fever but has no way to know for sure other than to say it meets all the symptoms of it. I don't know enough about scarlet fever to say how long it will last and whether the two adult women and Waleski should be worried. He hadn't been allowing Rose and Melody to help with those in quarantine which is a good thing.

We had another meeting during breakfast as we had yesterday. This time the discussion was on whether to stay or move our community to a new location. It is an important decision and one that needs to be made quickly so that we can decide where to put our effort; into repairing and further fortify our current location or whether the time, energy, and resources needed to be put into mobilization.

First we discussed the potential benefits of moving:  
*A new area where we could start fresh.  
*Hopefully finding a more defensible position.  
*A more rural location.  
*Perhaps move into an area already prepositioned for a community like our own.  
*Different climate.

Then we discussed the potential benefits of staying:  
*We know this location, both its strengths and its weaknesses.  
*We've already put a lot of effort into the Wall and all of the structures inside of it.  
*There are orange groves and individual fruit trees all over the place in addition to what we are planting as we go.  
*The climate is more hospitable for long term self-sufficiency than many others.

Lots of good reasons to go and stay. Then we started listing the reasons that it would be a bad idea to move:  
*A new area would have its own set of problems; moving does not guarantee our problems would be fewer in numbers.  
*Most defensible locations would probably already be taken by other survivor groups.  
*Every place is rural these days excepting perhaps the mid-west where the government has supposedly become centralized.  
*We'd already heard how the coastal areas have been stripped of most of their resources by the pirates and other survivor groups.  
*We'd have to start from scratch.

We also discussed the problems with staying:  
*We had a major amount of clean up to do. We hadn't finished cleaning up from the Big Horde and now we had internal damage to repair.  
*The memories of our vulnerability.  
*We had the potential to outgrow Sanctuary over the next couple of years.  
*Without new ways to grow crops and increase our herds we could deplete the ground in this area.  
*There are security risks about being located on the edge of a former US highway.

One interesting plan was brought forward about the possibility of moving to an island. At that point Matlock asked us to just think about it for the rest of the day and we would come together again tomorrow morning.

Scott and I paired off to do some work today. We needed to secure the food storage building. Even if we voted to leave we couldn't leave right away. While we cleaned up over there we took the time to discuss our options. All of the pros and cons made a certain amount of sense but to be honest, neither one of us could get real worked up to start over someplace new. It's not that we were particularly enamored of our current location; it was more that the alternatives under discussion held no appeal. Nothing jumped out at us as good enough reason to scrap everything we had built here and move on to someplace that we would have to start from scratch.

The rural vs. urban argument had held some appeal until we thought about the fact that every place was rural now. The population had been decimated. No single place had better services than the other. Well, maybe they did around places that got their electricity from dams but the majority of places we would consider moving couldn't say that. And for land to grow things, all we had to do is look at all of the yards, empty lots, parks and green spaces around us. It wasn't any less work to garden and till a plot of land in the country that to do the same thing in all the empty front yards in our suburb.

The issue of security and fortification was a consideration but it would be the same in the countryside and privately Scott told me that Matlock, Dix, and a few other men including himself had already penciled out potentially vast improvements for Security. It would just be a matter of getting the work done.

I told Scott that I wouldn't want to live on an island at all. The risk of rising water and storm damage could not be ignored. Nor could the issue of accessibility to the mainland, access to fresh water, and the challenges of not outgrowing our natural resources. An island large enough to provide us with enough natural resources would have already been commercially developed around here. If it wasn't commercially developed it is because it had other problems that we certainly wouldn't have the ability to ignore. Not to mention that we would probably have to deal with constant incursions by pirates or other types of raiders.

There are some benefits to living on an island for sure; just not anything I'd be willing to give up my landlocked mentality for. Scott was a little more flexible but neither one of us could get away from the danger imposed by hurricanes and tropical storms. We'd both been through too many hurricanes and/or helped with storm clean up to take that kind of threat lightly. The storm surge alone could wipe an entire island clean and turn it virginal in a matter of hours.

What really worried us was whether we could agree to go with the group should the majority choose something we didn't agree with. We had children to think about and we were getting to the point in life where we just didn't have the flexibility to simply "go try something and see if it works, if it doesn't we'll move someplace else." We have little people counting on us for safety, food, and shelter. Personally I need more security than that.

I know we aren't the only ones weighing our options. From the second story window of the food storage house I would watch people working, stop with a thoughtful look on their face, and then either go on with what they were doing or quietly looking around before going to Matlock or Dix to talk in a more casual setting than the open meetings we've been having. I don't know what it means; but people certainly are taking the question of move-or-stay seriously.

Scott said he asked David, Rose, and James how they felt. The boys wanted to stay, Rose was more interested in the group consensus. No telling what we are going to hear from others in the morning.


	117. Day 160

**Day 160**

Well, for a Rest Day this sure as heck has been a productive day. I would say a good day, and we sure have needed one of those.

Betty and I were up early, Reba had planned to help but she had been up most of the night. Mr. Morris is suffering a lot of pain from the amputation of his thumb and finger but Waleski says there is no infection which is a blessing. He's just trying to go back to "normal" without taking into account his age and the trauma he suffered. He's a wonderful, but stubborn, man. We need to find something that he can be occupied with and feel (and be) useful doing without putting his recuperation at risk. We can't afford to lose him. Reba also was up with Callie who started having nightmares. Ironically she was fine until she heard everyone talking about moving. She's already made one major move recently, I think the thought of another one was more stress than she could handle and has brought out all of her insecurities and anxieties in general.

This morning's breakfast was another easy one though I kind of cheated by making the cinnamon-raisin biscuits last night. We fixed a huge pot of porridge and people ate that and the biscuits together. The kids also helped by squeezing enough orange juice last night for everyone to drink at breakfast and the rest of the day. If we didn't give them chores to do while they are cooped up in the small space they'd likely bring the house down.

Everyone had been instructed to put their vote on a piece of paper and drop it in a basket before we ate. Everyone twelve and over was given a chance to vote and we used a hidden ballot system to see whether there was a definite majority one way or the other before we opened up a group discussion. During breakfast the tally was made.

There was only one vote for moving. Dante' stood up and I thought at first we were going to wind up in a painful debate but he said, "That one would be my vote. If everyone is really set on staying here, I change my vote to staying as well; might as well make it unanimous. And Tina and the kids don't want to go another place either. But if we do stay here, what are we going to do to make sure this never happens again?"

I cannot put into words the relief I felt. I had tossed and turned a bit during the night, despite being so tired, because this could have been an issue that brought about the beginning of the end for us. Even if there had been a clear majority but there were people unable or unwilling to go along there could have been problems. Scott and I were concerned that we could have been one of the problems. But with a unanimous vote everything was OK.

But Dante' was right; a vote for staying didn't necessarily mean that we were voting for things to stay the way they were. After we cleared the air we got down to some real work.

All along we've thought we've been building our community in a way that was adequate to our needs. We met needs as they came along. We thought we'd been proactive. But the Big Horde and then the Raid on Sanctuary highlighted areas where we are weak.

One of the first assumptions we made was about human nature. We assumed that the larger groups of people congregating together would be for self-protection and not for aggression; or at least not so quickly.

The next assumption we made was about time. We had time to build Sanctuary's defenses as we needed them. We had time to train all members of our community. We had time to build relationships with other communities before trouble brewed. We had time to finish gathering all of the supplies that were just lying around. There may be time to do all of that, but not nearly as much as we believed.

Matlock was blunt. He laid on the line what he saw as our strengths and what he saw as our weaknesses. One item that I was particularly struck by fell into both categories. It was our own population.

Added all up with have fifty-four people living in Sanctuary, including those in quarantine; we tallied things up by age and sex. In the area of adults 20 years of age and older we have fourteen males and ten females. Teenagers (aged 13 to 19 years) we have five males and seven females. Children aged 2 years to 12 years we have ten males and seven females. We have one infant under a year of age and two more on the way. That looks like a well balanced population and under normal circumstances it would be. But these aren't normal circumstances.

All of our teenagers, most of who fall into the older teen range, are treated like adults and are expected to function as adults. That was a little rough for me to get used to but I've come to understand the necessity of it.

Our tweens, those between the ages of 9 and 12, also have a lot of responsibility but act under the guidance of an adult when at all possible. The children under 9, of whom there are several, also have chores but realistically do not and cannot contribute as much as the tweens and teens do.

Right now two of the adult females and six of the children are in quarantine. Once they are out quarantine, at least another week, we'll begin to integrate them into the community. We'll deal with potential problems with them then.

We got real specific and were talking about how our community represented the various talents needed to thrive but that got kind of dry. The bottom line with that discussion however was that we needed to ensure a lot more cross-training occurred than what was actually happening. Waleksi, looking tired and harried, brought up the fact that he was it for advanced medical training. He also brought up the fact that his training was not exactly all that advanced and anyone with any type of first aid training should write their name down on the clipboard that he was passing around and when and where that training came from. He needed to know who we could count on in a pinch as well as what type of community-wide training was needed at the very beginning. For instance, after dinner tonight we all had a lesson in CPR as well as lessons on the triage of potential NRS dangers (people who had been bitten or those in end-of-life circumstances).

I raised the issue that everyone needed to help in the gardens at some point. I simply cannot do it all on my own. I haven't been doing all the physical labor on my own, but I've primarily been using child labor as helpers. That would be fine in the short term, but long term other adults besides myself needed to get involved. Luckily Betty and Reba are both very experienced in that area. So is Mr. Morris and Kevin for that matter. But even they admitted that they hadn't handed down as much knowledge as they could have to their own kids simply because things were different and it was always assumed there would be time for all of that after the kids finished with their schooling, assuming they were interested at that point.

Once you start adding in areas of expertise like animal husbandry, plumbing, carpentry, masonry, etc. we all realized what an overwhelming task it is going to be to continue to prosper with the relatively small number of people we have. We hadn't even touched on the area of security yet. Matlock had been saving that for last.

What we needed to do was to increase our physical fortifications to the point that we could operate securely with the fewest number of people at any given time. That balance is going to be absolutely essential to continue as a community and to prevent anything like the Raid from happening again. And we need to branch out and start running patrols to watch for any groups that may be coming into the area. We also need to more firmly define what we consider our territory to be and establish what we are going to do if our territory is infringed on.

Starting tomorrow, the Wall will take precedence over all other building projects, even over repair of the houses inside the Wall. The only exception to this is any repair that restores structural integrity. Each individual family will be responsible for interior clean up. I was surprised at the breadth of the changes and additions they are talking about making to the Wall. Matlock brought out some drawings that he Scott and Angus had made back when the first Wall was being built.

First we are going to enlarge the Wall and add some space and houses. Will need that if we are to continue to grow. As a consequence we will need to go to the Uceta Railroad Yard and take box cars. While at the Yard, which had become primarily a repair and storage Yard back in the 80s, we will collect welding equipment which we will use to tie all of the Wall in together so that we can avoid the shifting and movement of the containers like we had with the Horde and with the explosions. What we are hoping is that the railroad tracks are navigable from the yard to within a closer distance of Sanctuary. It would definitely make it easier to transport a large number of boxes to our location and it would also mean that we could actually use the rail lines to transport any goods from that area of town as well. We run the risk of attracting attention but it may be a risk worth taking. After we take what we want, the plan is to dismantle the rail line in several locations to prevent anyone else from using it the same way.

After James' injury everyone knows that we need to make sure that our guards are more secure as well. At the ninety-degree outer corners we are going to add a guard "room" by placing a third level. This will be a steel storage container that sits on the corner. The guard room will hang out over the edge of the Wall. If you look at it from above, the guard room will be the straight back of a capital "K" and the Wall will be the bent "v" part of the capital "K" facing into Sanctuary. Doors will be cut in appropriate locations as will ventilation windows that can be screened to keep the bugs out once it warms up.

There were other items mentioned but the three that really made a splash with everyone is the two gate houses we will be building, one at the front gate and one at the rear, that are almost like buildings themselves. Both will have built in security measures like murder holes and a few other nasty surprises for anyone that gets that far. Though Matock and Dix are working on plans to see that that doesn't happen. Then there is the new guard tower that we will build where the old cell tower is right now. As a matter of fact Dix said he is going to try and use the cell tower itself, or at least the equipment, to boost our radio capability so the tower will be built around the cell tower. The only problem is that Tampa is the lightning capital of the world and we are going to have to make sure that all of the taller structures have lightning rods and other safety measures included in their final designs.

The next item that was brought up was the sustainability of our community. Even with security in place and functioning properly it won't do any good if we can't provide the basic necessities for our people. I was put on the spot a little when they asked me how the food situation was. I admitted we had lost a lot but not as much as we could have because the pirates had wanted Sanctuary and its supplies intact. I told them I had been ill and then the Raid threw me off as well. It wasn't making excuses but I was certainly flustered and feeling like I had fallen down on the job.

Dix asked if I thought I would be able to start planting tomorrow. Well that did throw me off. I admitted I might be able to get a few things in the ground tomorrow but that gardening wasn't as simple as just broadcasting seeds in the ground. You have to prepare the soil and whatever that takes, then you have to lay out the beds, and then you plant either from seed or with seedlings. I said if I could get the golf cart brought back in and charged – it still sat in the garage of the house where the boys and I were stuck during the Big Horde – then I would try and get most of what I could planted tomorrow and over the coming days. The problem, again, would be help. I said that without the younger children to help me I would only be going that much slower. None of us were comfortable with having the younger children run loose but I said that even just helping with the garden that was between our house and the hospital, our main garden area, I would be able to accomplish so much more than I would be alone. Everyone agreed to that so that's what I'll be doing tomorrow.

The last thing we talked about, or should I say that Matlock and Dix asked us to think about, was what areas of town or types of materials we should prioritize for the gathering runs we will be doing in the immediate future. I had three ideas pop into my head almost immediately and I can't believe that I hadn't really thought of them before. First was I knew where we could get not one, but several wood burning stoves as well as at least two wood burning cook stoves. Secondly I knew where we could get several steam engines as well as several old work horse gas engines. Lastly was I knew where we could get an old fashioned stone driven grain mill that would allow us to grind quantities of corn (or wheat if we could get it). What made this so great was that all of these items were in the same location.

Scott knew I had gotten excited about something because I was bouncing up and down in my seat like a little kid and had a silly grin on my face. Dix nudged Matlock and Matlock laughed and said, "Obviously you have an idea."

They weren't laughing for long. Soon everyone was nearly as excited as I was. Out the state fairgrounds, not all that far east of the rail yards, there had been a working exhibit of early Florida pioneers. It was called Cracker Country and was manned by volunteers year round, not just during the fair though that is when it got its most exposure. As soon as I had thought of the other three items I thought about all of the books and other things that would probably just be lying around in the displays areas that we could use. There was even an old printing press that was still in operation, black smith tools, large kettles, and I couldn't even begin to guess what else we might find there.

Matlock got serious and tried to calm everyone's enthusiasm reminding them that there were other survivor groups out there. We might not find anything there. Then he gave a little grin and said, "On the other hand …. "

Our meeting had started at breakfast and lasted through lunch and then some. As a parting shot Dix said, "Sissy can't be the only one with ideas. Everyone needs to look around and come up with some suggestions." I think that is one of the few times he tried to be playful when there was more than just one or two people around. It made me wonder if maybe Rachel's problems hadn't been more of a burden for him than we had credited.

Jim took James and they went and collected the golf cart. It wasn't as pretty as it used to be but it was still serviceable. They plugged the batteries up to the solar chargers. We were lucky; we only lost two solar panels during the Raid. That reminded me that there were several "green" exhibits at the fairgrounds as well. And I think some of the train switches now use solar power with electric back up. If we were going to start planning big, why not go all the way? It is way passed time to start thinking of using solar power to operate at least one or two wells in sanctuary.

I hope I can sleep tonight. I've got so many ideas rolling around in my head right now I've had to start a separate notebook just so that I can put them down and not be afraid of forgetting them. Maybe it is none too sensitive, but I'm really glad we've been able to find some things to be optimistic about. I'm still grieving for those we lost but I don't know what good it would do us to just lay down, give up, and die. Maybe I would feel different had it been Scott or one of the children that died. But I think I would still have made the effort for the ones that remained. I think.

I'm scared, but kinda in a good way. We are risking a lot. But what is the alternative? Time and again it's been proven that no one is coming to the rescue. This is the only life we have. The only ones that can make it better is us. I intend to be on the helping end of that. I feel like I've been paralyzed by fear for too long. It started in the attic. Somewhere during the Raid I overcame it. I don't ever want to go back down that road again.


	118. Day 161

**Day 161**

I'm so tired I don't know if I can write much. It's tired in a good way if that makes sense, but still dead dog tired. My hands are sore too. Two things I'm thankful for tonight are gardening gloves and Bag Balm otherwise I would be in a world of hurt.

The weather has been cool-ish so it wasn't all that hard to prepare the main garden for planting. The weeds haven't really had a chance to take hold from when I plowed it last time. Some of the other garden areas are going to need more preparation in the coming days if for no other reason than they were trampled, and to pick debris out of the dirt. That's going to be fun. Not.

Mostly what I've been able to plant has been "green stuff" as the kids call it. I've planted the first patches of eggplants, peppers (both green and hot), tomatoes, watermelons, broccoli, potatoes, turnips, beets, cabbage, Chinese cabbage, carrots, cauliflower, celery, collard greens, endive, kale, lettuce, mustard greens, English peas, radishes, and Swiss chard. Except for the watermelon and potatoes its mostly "rabbit food." Although if I don't get some fences up the whole garden could turn into rabbit food in a literal sense. We really need the leafy greens though if we plan to stay healthy while doing all of the work we need to do. But, if a little hopper comes along and finds its way into the stew pot that might just be fine too.

The other gardening task that I did today which was very satisfying is that I planted our first field of sugar cane. I'm catching the last planting opportunity until August so I hope everything takes. There was a small stand of cane that someone had planted out in the piney woods along the utility lines. I marked it on my list of things to do months ago but just never got around to it. Jim agreed to take me out there and to help cut some stalks and bring them back inside Sanctuary.

I used the golf cart to drag a homemade cultivator attachment I made that I set to dig five inch deep furrows that were about four feet apart. Then I dropped pieces of the stalks down into the furrow and covered them back up. Sugar cane isn't supposed to need very rich soil so I hope I did the right thing by not worrying about putting compost on them; all I did was sprinkle the rows with a watering can. With luck I'll see shoots in a couple of weeks and after about 10 months I'll be able to harvest them. No way am I going to miss the next planting opportunity that starts in September; I want to get a solid rotation going.

Jim and Mr. Morris already have designs on any sugar cane that grows. I'm thinking that they can have the cane that is left over after I have been able to get some juice off of it and boil it down to syrup. I swear, those men – Angus and Scott too for that matter – just can't wait to get that still of theirs going year round. After what happened last time they got a draw off of it I would think that would be enough. Men. Honestly. I thought Mr. Morris was gonna cry when he found a bullet had puncture the copper tubing in several places.

Thinking of Angus up on the Wall seeing dragons makes me wonder what he is getting into. I think all of us have to believe that he will be back but I just wish I knew when. Those pirates were nothing to fool with and I have no idea how far he was going to chase them before he decides he's kicked them enough and come home.

Tomorrow I'll work on some of the other garden patches but will likely have to work on them alone because we still can't let the kids roam around until we deal with the Wall. And speaking of plans for that, tomorrow some of the men will be driving over to the Rail Yard to try and bring in the first load of box cars. Scott is going with them again because he knows the area. His grandfather lived nearly his whole life over in Ybor City which is just a skip away from the rail yards. I know while they are over there they are also going to case that area and see if maybe with two or three days work they can kill two birds with one stone; gathering and grabbing the box cars.

I've looked at the pencil drawings of how much they want to enlarge Sanctuary. It's very daunting. I mean I like it to a certain extent but on the other hand the bigger the compound the greater area we are going to have to guard. Brandon came up with a nifty idea that really blew us adults away. It shouldn't have but I guess we have all started thinking that technology is over with. Brandon, who still uses a laptop, photo equipment, sound equipment and printers continues to think along those lines a lot more readily than the rest of us do. He said it should be possible to set up those closed circuit television monitors so that a central location … such as the new radio/guard tower … could monitor different areas using a lot less manpower. If we can't find the wireless systems then we'll be stuck running wires all over creation but it might be worth it. If we can set up banks of constantly recharging batteries using solar power that will save us having to set up generators.

Brandon got a lot of pats on the back for the idea. He wasn't being falsely modest though when he said he wished he had thought of it sooner. It might have saved us all the lost lives that occurred during the Raid. That sobered us up but Scott made sure to tell Brandon that some things in life happen so that they CAN generate better ideas. That offered him little comfort however, having just lost his father and most of his step-family. I know he is trying to come to terms with things, but it is visibly a struggle.

The same can't be said of Maddie. She's not trying at all. She is horrified by her face. She keeps making awful jokes about being kin to Two-Face, the villain in the Batman comics. She is nowhere near as bad as that. And the burn may fade in time but right now about a quarter of her face looks very bad. She's simply not in the mood to accept the possibility of things not being as bad as she imagines them to be. I truly do feel for her, but I just about yanked her ponytail tonight when she shouted at Sarah for not understanding. Sarah understands more than Maddie wants to admit. The scars from the tiger will be with her for the rest of her life. The limp is almost gone, but not quite and we aren't sure if that is as good as it's going to get or not.

Josephine has come out her funk a little but is still pretty unsure of her future if her eyesight is gone. Both girls are pretty young to be dealing with the blows they have been dealt. I know they can come to terms with the changes, the question is will they choose to.

Rhonda is back up and around. If it was a 24-hour bug that had her puking so constantly no one else caught it. She's a little pale but none the worse for wear. Patricia is sitting up now and the spotting has stopped, but Waleski is taking no changes. She is still on modified bed rest for the foreseeable future. She can't even help Dante' with the inventory work anymore.

This morning I understand Becky set up a "suggestion box" that people could drop ideas into. Sort of one of those put it in writing deals so that no one forgets. I think it was getting hard for Matlock and Dix to keep track of everything people are suggesting.

Actually, both Matlock and Dix were away from Sanctuary most of the day. They took Scott, McElroy, Clay Jr., and J. Paul with them. It was unusual to have both Matt and Dix gone but they needed to get a good look at what we have available and what kind of logistical problems we could run up against. They followed the tracks as best they could and barring cars on the lines in places, most of the rails are clear. There is one place that might be a little iffy; it's an old over pass near Rowlette Park. There's a semi stuck under it … the overpass is on a street not meant for trucks. So long as that part of the track holds up we should be home free. The only other questionable part of this plan is that the rail line we need runs through some of what used to be the rougher areas of town. Its starts out near Palm River and Orient Rd which is where one of the main jail houses was, then goes through Ybor City and Central Avenue and up through Sulfur Springs before running parallel to Nebraska Avenue which brings it right to our Front Gate.

The results of their excursion today were promising. McElroy thinks he can get some of the Diesel-Electric Engines running and use them to pull the box cars. How the diesel-electric engines run is a diesel engine operates large generators. The electricity from the generators powers large electric motors attached to the axels of the wheels. The benefit is that there are no clutches or gears so that they are lighter, simpler, and more efficient. None of us knows for sure how many cars can be pulled by a single engine, but he plans on pulling the first load with twenty-five fifty-foot cars. That will allow us to test the track without putting our men at too much risk. That number of cars will give us 1250 linear feet of one-level of Wall. We will need a lot more than that but it will certainly get us started. The problem is not going to be transporting them but having a crew standing by that can de-couple them and move them out of the way fast enough to allow McElroy to do two or three trips in a single day. He also plans for every successful trip to add five to ten box cars on for the next trip until he has reached the maximum load. Talk about moving faster than we have in the past. It kind of makes me nervous which I know is silly.

If all goes well tomorrow then the next day will be a really, really big deal. We will leave two guards, Waleski, the 8 in quarantine, Rose, Melody, Patricia, Rhonda, and all the children under 9 in Sanctuary. Everyone else is going for a ride. I am terribly uncomfortable taking the tweens with us but there simply isn't any way around it. We'll drive out to Ybor City with one or two buses and we'll do a major gathering run while they couple the box cars. We'll load the box cars with everything that we've gathered and then we'll pile back in the buses and hopefully arrive back at Sanctuary before the box cars do.

If these two plans work it looks like we'll have a new schedule for doing things. One or two days each week we'll go as a large group and begin scavenging around in larger areas and/or in areas further from home. The next two areas on our list are the USF/Community Hospital area and the Fairgrounds. We'll probably do the fairgrounds first since I know for a fact that there are things there that I want … assuming no one else has taken them ahead of us.

I'm climbing into bed early. Scott is still up planning with the other men but I just can't seem to keep my eyes open. Waleski kept giving me "the look" all evening. I think he thinks I'm over doing it. I think I'm over doing it, but I also think there isn't much choice at this point. If we don't start replacing some of the food we are using up from our food storage we are going to be in deep trouble before you know it. All of the fruit in the immediate area outside of Sanctuary is, if not totally gone, certainly significantly depleted.

And that is it. I'm putting this pen down before I think of something else to write. I wonder if I can sneak a couple of Tylenol out of our hidden first aid supplies without anyone noticing? If I don't take something Scott is going to have to lever me up out of the bed in the morning with a crowbar I'm gonna be so stiff and sore.


	119. Day 162

**Day 162 (Tuesday, Jan 9)**

Oh brother was I sore this morning. Taking a couple of weeks off from "hard labor" made it that much more of a struggle to deal with all the kinks and strains that garden work can give you. And being totally honest I'm not back up to 100% yet. I've thought about trying to learn to drink coffee to perk me up but I just can't seem to do it. Besides I don't want to waste any if I can't finish a cup; those that already do drink coffee need it. Maybe when we are out on our scavenging run tomorrow I'll find a couple of cans of soda … a case of soda … a whole drink machine full of sodas. I don't think I would even mind if it was diet soda at this point. Hey, I can wish can't I? Of course, not drinking soda certainly has contributed to my weight loss I'm sure. Working sixteen hours a day will do that as well. Pitiful thing is that I still don't have that buff bod you used to see on all the survival chicks in the movies. But at least all the wiggles and jiggles have been cut down except in areas that Scott enjoys wiggling and jiggling.

That man is a hoot. With all the crazy and scary things that have gone on in our lives over the last couple of months he still can make my toes tingle. When he came back yesterday he brought me a huge box of pens and tablets from the Rail Yard office. I've been wondering what I was going to do when all of my pens ran out, I was down to only six left. He just handed the box to me matter-of-factly, kissed me on the head, and then went with the rest of the men to discuss what they would need to do tomorrow. I didn't even realize he was listening to me when I was complaining the other day. He had that glazed "she's talking to me but it's not registering" look on his face at the time. I know most folks wouldn't consider that very romantic but it is the kind of thing that just does it for me. I never was a cut flowers and chocolate girl. Cut flowers wilt and chocolate gave me zits. I was much happier with an oil change for my car and cook outs at the beach.

Hmmm. Wiggles, jiggles, and tingles. If my kids ever read this journal they are like to die of embarrassment before they can finish. Let's get back on topic here.

It wasn't just muscle soreness this morning. My hands are just nasty. Even with gloves on yesterday I developed blisters. Great big honking nasty blisters too. And some paper cut type slicing from the sugar cane leaves. I'm patched up but I look ridiculous with all of these iodine lines all over my arms and neck. It looks like I was attacked by someone with an orange highlighter.

Poor Walekski. He really is having a hard time of it. His relationship with Rachel was odd; it was a little adversarial but they were also buddies, comrades in arm. She had more medical training than he did and he wasn't too proud to learn as much from her as he could as quickly as he could. Rachel didn't put him down but she didn't exactly praise him very much either so I guess it left him a little insecure when he stepped outside of his official training. Rachel also handled most of the females in camp. I'm probably the exception to the rule. Suddenly being faced with not one but two pregnant women has made him extremely nervous though if you didn't know him that well you wouldn't be able to tell. He's still as curmudeonly as ever. And Tina's rape has him on tenterhooks as he wants to treat her exactly perfectly so she isn't left with any lasting, physical consequences of the attack. He's up all day tending to everyone's wounds and to the people over in quarantine, and then spends several hours at night reading all of the medical books we've been able to collect, planning community training events, and trying to continue with Rose and Melody's training where Rachel left off. I'm real happy to see that Rilla and "Ski" as she calls him are working together so well. They are moving carefully, both are still nursing broken hearts, but I think there is a great deal of potential there. But who knows for sure? Nothing is ever as easy as you want it to be, and I mean nothing.

Just once I'd like to see a plan go the way we expect it to go. Oh, they got the train of box cars in like they were supposed to. They brought in twenty-five and it was beautiful. But for every box car that came in they also had to deal with that many zombies. Most of the areas the train tracks run through have never been cleaned out. Lots of rioting and who knows what all have left untold numbers of zombies that haven't seemed to have teamed up with any horde. I don't know why the zombies in those areas of town are different. Maybe they aren't hearing the "call" to congregate. Maybe it's that they are basically trapped in areas severely damaged by rioting and can't get out. Maybe it has to do with the damage that those bodies took during the riots or the people they were before they turned, though what rationale we could use for that explanation I don't know. My understanding is that those zombies were pretty far along in the decomposition process so maybe that has something to do with it. All I know is it is providential and weird at the same time. "Organized" zombie hordes are very, very scary and could have completely derailed our plans. Pun intended.

According to Scott, the men reached the rail yard with only minor amounts of trouble. Mostly it was stalled traffic and other debris blocking the road. They had to make a few detours but nothing major. They got there, located the likely engine they had intended to use and finally found how to get it to the track that it needed to be on. Then they figured out how to push and pull the box cars into place. They even figure out how to bring along the Crane Train that they'll need to move the box cars off of the tracks and into place along the outline of the expanded Wall. So far so good right? It went so relatively smooth that McElroy had thought they might even get in two trains of box cars the first day which would put them a trip ahead.

Nope. While the plan had taken into account that the box cars were considerably heavier and longer than the steel storage containers and acquired the crane train to move them around, not one of us had thought about what that additional weight would mean when we were trying to actually place the box cars. Very little prep was needed for the steel storage containers. That is not going to be true of the box cars.

One, they have wheels. OK, that's pretty obvious and it turned out that taking the wheels off wasn't going to be the easy operation anticipated so they have to be left on. Axels can come off but not the whole wheel apparatus if I understand the grumbling of the men correctly. Two, the weight of the box car itself means that we will need to create some kind of foundation for it to sit on. That was the big grumble and what will really slow us down.

Today they simply removed all of the box cars from the tracks and kind of lined them up off to the side the best they could. Tomorrow on the first load of cars that they bring back, they'll replace two of the boxes with flat cars and bring back a bull dozer and one of those big heavy things that packs down road beds when they are being laid. I can't remember what McElroy called it exactly; a vibrator roller or something like that. Obviously the name got some snickers out of the more playful of the group. Of course the tweens didn't know what they were snickering about and Sarah in her infinite wisdom asked McElroy how hair curlers were going to help keep the box cars from falling over. That set the rest of us off. James was so embarrassed all he could do is go, "Oh my gosh Sarah!" and walk away. Kids … life sure would be boring without them.

Speaking of kids, we are still on for the group gathering run tomorrow. Betty is staying here to supervise the nine and under crowd which makes me much more comfortable about going. If not her, I would have voted for Reba. Both have a heap load of commonsense which makes it easier for me to do what I have to do. Scott has admitted to feeling the same way.

We were going to take Rose and Melody but Waleski is just not in any shape to take care of those injured and staying behind without some help. He'd be able to do it assuming no emergency came up, but if it did then the whole house of cards could come down. And I know that Johnnie and Bubby won't come unglued about me leaving if Rose is there. They are still experiencing some separation anxiety though it's better than it was.

They were good boys today and that helped me a lot. While the rest of the children stayed at our house the two boys came with me and helped me with some of the other gardening plots. I planted another patch that was all watermelons, both hybrid seeds and heirlooms. The heirlooms I'll be able to collect the seeds from and replant next season. The hybrid seeds will at least give us one season of variety although even in the heirlooms I have red, yellow, and orange-fleshed watermelons. If they all make we might actually get sick of seeing the fruit. I'm hoping to have enough to make watermelon preserves, watermelon rind pickles, and maybe even some watermelon wine. We'll have to see.

Another patch I planted is all in tomatoes. Most of these were the heirloom varieties. I already used up most of the hybrid seeds I had last time I planted tomatoes. Of course I have all the Brandywine varieties like red, pink, yellow, and black; but I also have some that are supposed to be odd. Like there are these in a packet I found called "Banana Legs" and the description of them makes them sound like they look like small bananas only they really are tomatoes. That I'll have to see to believe. Then I've got the more traditional ones like the Arkansas Traveler, Cherokee Purple, and Giant Beefsteak. I had the boys help me plant a bunch of hanging baskets of plum, cherry, and grape tomatoes. That will save me the garden space which I am going to need next month for sure.

In addition to a few other duplicate patches of what I had planted yesterday I planted a field of sugar beets. I have no idea if this will work on not but I intend on trying. If the beets do make there are three things we can do with them. First is that our moonshiners can make a kind of liquor from a mash made out of the sugar beets. Apparently they do this in Eastern Europe … or did. We can also make a sweet syrup out of the beets; cook a mash, drain the resulting liquid, then boil it down until it has a thick consistency. The best thing is that we can take the mash left over from the other two uses and then feed that to our animals. We can pickle the pigs with the moonshine mash and feed that other to the cows. I'd say the extra work is worth the potential pay out.

Tonight I helped get food ready for tomorrow. We also needed to fix emergency bags for everyone. The tweens got fanny packs for the most part but we threw some extra back packs in the bus just in case. The rest of us adults got our own BOBs. I finally found exactly the backpack that was perfect for me for gathering runs. It's one of those single-strap sling back packs. I can wear it and still easily move and do what I have to do. Now it's not something I would want for a heavy duty BOB but being able to wear it and work at the same time is a load off of my mind (and my back).

We have to move quickly in the morning so it will be another day of cheese grits, biscuits, and this time we'll be cutting up thin rounds of summer sausage. Lunch for those on the gathering run will be crackers, sausage sticks, GORP or Kiddie Kibble, oatmeal and raisin cookies, and canned fruit cocktail. Not exactly the most nutritious meal on the planet but not too shabby either for a meal that requires no cooking and very little clean up. I'll pack a basket of oranges for those that are just starving to death before we can get home. I've also got some drink mixes that people can put in their nalgene bottles.

Everyone also gets their very own gloves and some other gear and will be armed, even the tweens. There are some of the tweens, like Sarah, that can shoot with great accuracy. Then there are some like Laura that are totally clueless. We thought about leaving Laura behind but Tina actually said she needed to go. She said that she needs to learn how to protect herself and these gathering runs, under supervision of adults, will give her what she needs and can't get if she lives out the rest of her days inside the Wall of Sanctuary. Laura looked ready to mutiny so we'll have to see how things work out in the morning. The last thing we need is a child with an attitude.

We are taking two busses. One will be a people bus and the other will be an equipment bus. The people bus is an obvious one to describe. The equipment bus will be loaded down with bags, baskets, and boxes to put loose stuff in before it is placed in a box car for transport to Sanctuary. There will also be a variety of things like shovels, wire cutters, screwdrivers, hammers, chains, pulleys, ropes, straps, etc. We've tried to imagine what all we could possibly need to make this gathering run as quick and as efficient as possible.

Either way it's off to bed I go. Scott's waiting patiently and it's going to be a long and interesting day tomorrow.


	120. Day 163

**Day 163**

Long and interesting … those were my words last night to describe this day. Could I have been more unintentionally prophetic?

We were up early; nothing unusual there. The kids were pretty ramped up but not acting out, just tense and excited to be going outside of the Wall. Nothing too unusual there either. I hated leaving everyone with all the dishes but we really did need to get on the road.

McElroy and the train crew headed out on the train engine and we took our route in the buses. We kept the tweens on the floor board where we had installed reinforced panels; no since in taking chances with a stray (or intentional) bullet coming in. Most of the teens were on the inside with the exception of those acting as guards. We adults did our best to cover every place else.

First thing that turned unusual is that many people experienced a bit of motion sickness. It had been so long since many of them had ridden in a vehicle that the motion and speed – no matter how slow it was – required them getting used to it all over again. Samuel and Sarah were the two tweens least effected and we think it's because they get out and ride the horses almost daily. It made me think and I'm going to add more horses to the list (or maybe bicycles) of things we gather together.

It took almost an hour and a half to get to the rail yard because of all the detours we had to make. We tried to stay out of the worst areas but how do you quantify that when everywhere you look is "worse?" Of the people that hadn't been too far outside of Sanctuary's territory it was a depressing ride. You can know on a certain academic level how bad things are. You can even know based on firsthand accounts how bad things are. But, to actually see them with your own eyes is something particularly different; everything becomes more real in some ways.

To distract the growing moroseness that was being exhibited by everyone Jim, who was in charge of the Ybor City Gathering Run, asked everyone to go over their assigned tasks one more time. Every group had at least one adult. We all called off our group numbers. I'm leading group #5 and we are one of the smaller groups; it's me, Samuel, and Sarah. But each group would also be acting in tandem so we would be with group #6 that was made up by Jim, Reba, Clark, and Callie. I wound up with Laura before the day was over but that's another story.

Basically we rendezvoused at the rail yard and dropped off the passenger bus. Our plan had been to take the bus that had the seats removed and ride that over to 7th Avenue in Ybor City. And that's where things begin to get interesting.

Rather than take the bus, Scott figured out how to work the trolley that ran on the tracks from the rail yard straight into Ybor City. We all thought that was totally cool. What he did was attach one of those little diesel powered people movers to the front of the trolley. We didn't go real fast but we did move and we were able to avoid the worst of the road mess to do it. As a bonus, we pulled a little flat bed car with its own diesel people mover. Straight shot all the way. There was only one place where we had to get out and move a car out of the way.

First place we stopped was the venerable Columbia Restaurant. All the groups got out and helped to empty this place out. The inside was pretty trashed and it was so sad to see it that way. For people that hadn't been born and raised around Tampa the Columbia might not mean anything to them but for Scott and I this was literally a part of our history. The manager's office was trashed; it looked like someone was searching for money as the change bag and tills were thrown all over the place and the substantial safe stood broken open and empty. Only the casual scavenger had been through the restaurant. There were still a lot of paper goods and condiments though I told Jim before we brought any of it into Sanctuary I wanted to store it in an outside building and go through it for any roaches and silverfish. I was happy to see a lot of salt and seasonings; we would need them in the coming months as our hunting would need to pick up. I was one of the last people out and I grabbed a handful of the brochures and stuffed them in my pack just to remember the way the Spanish palace used to look.

The Naveira Coffee Mill was the next place we stopped as well as a couple of sports bars. We had to start breaking up into smaller groups. That wasn't too bad as the shops were considerably smaller than the Columbia. The coffee mill still smelled of coffee beans. We wound up taking so much coffee out of that place and some of it was green coffee beans. Scott, upon hearing my idea, thinks I'm nuts but I figure it is worth a try; I'm going to take some of the green coffee beans and see if I can't get some coffee bushes growing. I don't know if they'd ever produce but it's worth a shot.

Then there were a couple of more bars and little restaurants and then the family-style Spaghetti Warehouse. That was another mainstay of Tampa. It didn't take Sarah and Samuel long to get the rhythm going. Check the closets and for boxes and bags and things already in cases. Put everything outside the door for the crew that was loading things from the door onto the flat bed to take it back to the rail yard. Continue on starting at the main waitress/waiter area; from there, head into the kitchen and cooking areas. After that check the food storage shelves and lockers for anything worth gathering. I tried my best to take care of the area behind the bars and the liquor cabinets myself but I noticed a definite pattern almost immediately. What had been scavenged by our predecessors was the liquor and the convenience foods. Staple items really hadn't been touched which told me that it either happened early on or the scavengers were likely younger and/or single males. Most women over thirty, or those with small children, would never have just walked away from some of the food supplies that remained. I also noticed that someone was thinking because the feminine hygiene and condom dispensers were broken into and emptied.

The next couple of places were, hmmm, let's just say I didn't consider them child appropriate even if they were vacant and trashed. There weren't anything really wrong but I just had a funny vibe about taking kids into bars to gather up any leftover liquor there might be. Not that there was much. The bars had been particularly worked over.

As worked over as all of the places were, we scavenged a bunch of items from there and filled up the flatbed car pretty quickly. It pulled out after it had been piled high and took two of the teams with it to unload as quickly as possible at the rail yard and return.

It's about that time that I started feeling watched. I thought maybe there was a shambler in the area but shamblers don't hide. They eventually knock something over or reveal themselves when they go after the nearest warm blooded human. I decided to keep Samuel and Sarah close as we entered the next couple of buildings. Again, the selective scavenging for cash, liquor, and convenience foods was pretty obvious; but also in the last building I noticed that a lot of tables were knocked over or in disarray except for a grouping in the back that could still catch the daytime light.

I was trying to not overreact but I must have communicated some of my new nervousness to the kids. Samuel stuck really close to Sarah and they both stuck close to me. It would have been easier if we had split up but I just couldn't do it any longer.

We walked into this little place called the Green Iguana; think Bennigan's meets Key West for its décor and menu. The front of the place was well lit through large glass windows but it had a musty, "off" smell to it. Not bad, more like an old corpse that had finally decomposed well passed the gross stage. We had run into a couple of those, but not enough to warrant the amount of scavenging that had been done in this area already.

Then I heard it, the jingle-tinkle noise of chains.

I was thinking as spooky as the place was it could have been Jacob Marley; but on the other hand just because we were dealing with zombies didn't mean that ghosts were real.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here Max?"

The squeaky male voice nearly gave me a heart attack. Another voice, this one female, said, "I'm sorry. We're full up and are no longer accepting reservations. You'll have to come back another day."

Out of the gloom of the rear of the restaurant came two of the strangest looking folks I have seen in quite some time; possibly forever. The girl, and that's all she was really, had a green buzz cut and purple eyebrows wearing a flaming orange flamenco costume with black combat boots. If there was an opportunity to pierce something, she had taken it … eyebrows, nose, lips, cheeks, ears, etc. As she stepped into better light I saw that she had a few piercings on her chest – areas that most women keep covered to conform to decency laws if for no other reason – as well as rings in the webbing between her fingers. Poor Samuel didn't know quite what to make of that display and I felt Sarah punch him rudely in the ribs.

The kid with her – he was lucky if he had been old enough to drink before NRS brought the world to a screeching halt – was just as bad, only his thing was studs, camo, and Maori tattoos. The kid had no hair really, just a fine stubble that left his scalp tattoos out for shock value. He also kept his eyebrows shaved and the placement of the tattoos on his face gave him this weird, perpetually surprised look. From his droopy drawers up he was as naked as his head to show off yet more Maori tattoos. From the waistband of his dirty under drawers down he was dressed in what might have been considered tattered urban warfare gear, but none of it fit very well. Around his neck, around his wrists, in his ears, and on his belt were huge silver studs.

My mind struggled to assimilate the picture they made; caught somewhere between their comic portrayal of urban youths and the reality of the fact that we were in some seriously deep doo doo.

They were nothing more than kids as far as their years went, but their eyes said quite a different story of what was going on inside their heads. The girl alternated between nobody being home at all and just plain ol' crazy. And she sucked her thumb which lent a pathetic aspect to the overall effect of her get up. The kid, now he was the dangerous one. He was armed and whipcord lean and mean. He may have looked like a fool, and was probably three-quarters crazy if not a little more, but he definitely knew what he was doing. No excuses here, he liked being psychotic.

I didn't know what to say but the silence was stretching out pretty thin. "I beg your pardon. We didn't know we were intruding. We'll be getting out of your way and again, our apologies."

I tried to back the kids to the door, we weren't all that far, but the kid shucked the pump on the shotgun he carried and pointed in our direction. "I didn't give you permission to leave. Besides, Max needs some company."

I thought at first he was talking about himself in the third person but then the girl started clapping and acting like a child who has been given a treat. You know, I really don't cuss all that much but I was singing some pretty foul phrases in my head. I had a seriously bad feeling about what was about to go down.

But the kids didn't freeze which probably saved all of our lives. Samuel, oversized kid that he is, was behind me on the right and Sarah was behind me on the left. Samuel is left handed and I felt him flex his arm and grip his pistol. Sarah is right handed and doing the same only she also acted like she was holding onto my waist in fear; in reality she was unsnapping my machete sheath. Good kids the both of them.

"I'm sorry Max but we really should be leaving."

A grin not even a mother could love appeared on the kid's face. "Oh, I'm not Max. This is Max."

The girl walked back and dragged forward something that nearly drove my gag reflex into overtime. It was a zombie; and glory what a zombie it was. It wore a collar and straight jacket looking kind of black leather thing, only the arms hadn't been secured so the sleeves drug the ground. Its pants were nearly nonexistent; basically they were just shredded remains of jeans that had been faded to almost white. The crown of its head sported a long, fluorescent pink Mohawk. There were silver ring piercings covering almost the entire edge of one ear. The other ear was nothing more than a ragged cup where something had been eating at it.

The worst thing about "Max" however was that he was one of the mutants. I didn't know how long it had been reanimated but there were already tumorous growths over several parts of the visible portions of the corpse.

"Max is our leader. Was our leader. Isn't he just great?" squealed the girl.

There was absolutely no sane reply I could make to that so I kept silent. The Kid wasn't so reserved, "Shut up bitch. Max was weak. I should have been leader all along and we wouldn't have lost all of our people. Stupid asshole even got himself bit trying to save your sorry … "

"Hey … "

"If it'd been me you would have joined the rest of that two-faced … "

"Hey … " the girl said getting more agitated, stopping her feet and crying huge crocodile tears which caused her clown like eye makeup to smear and run down her face.

"You can't even cook worth a damn. And you are lazy in bed on top of it all. What Max sees in you I don't know."

Ugh ... "sees?" As in not past tense? I hope that had just been a mistake and not a Freudian slip. This whole situation was degenerating into the absurd. What happened next changed absurd into deranged and from deranged into psychotic.

Looking back on this situation here at end of day I can honestly say that while I enjoyed watching movies like Mad Max, Escape from New York, and all those other apocalyptic movies with the strange wardrobe choices I never really thought of them as likely scenarios. I mean, if you are fighting for your life taking the time to do an extreme makeover doesn't exactly strike me as a constructive use of time.

Thinking about those two kids just makes me scratch my head. We still don't know what they had been doing for the last several months. Did they start off looking like that or was their sanity a casualty of the struggle for survival and their hairstyle and clothing the cost of belonging to a survivor group? And we'll never know though I'm not the only one that has been doing a lot of conjecture on that point.

About the time The Kid wound down his rant about the shortcomings of his female companion "Max" started becoming agitated. The Kid and the girl immediately stopped their foolishness and went on alert. The girl in an inappropriately excited, sing-song voice said, "We have company!"

Then shots rang out from the street and I began to worry for our companions. Apparently the two punker wannabes hadn't realized we weren't alone. The gunfire startled them both. "Max" had become increasingly agitated with every passing second and used their surprise to escape.

"You dumb bitch! Why weren't you holding on to him?!"

"Me?! Why weren't you holding on? You're supposed to be all big and strong … " Wham! The Kid back handed her in the mouth.

"Get your sorry ass up. Shut your sorry pie hole and help me catch him. I want our watch dog back."

And just like that they ran out and into the street. They had completely forgotten about us. If this was the efficiency their group had been exhibiting all along no wonder there was only the two of them left.

The kids and I, using the main register desk at the front as cover went to investigate what was going on. I haven't exactly had any training beyond what life has handed to me recently but even I know you don't run out into the street when you've heard gunfire. Nor do you stand at big plate glass windows and stare at what might be going on outside; and a good thing too because right after we took up our position a bullet hit one of those windows and shattered it sending large shards of glass every which way.

I asked the kids to keep their head down and took the chance to peek up and see if I could ascertain what was going on. A shriek pulled my eyes over to the girl who was down with two zombies chewing on her starting right above her combat boots. She was going into shock when "Max" catapulted on top of the zombies tearing them off of the girl. There was no hope for her. Even if there had been a way to combat the transferred infection, her femoral artery had already been compromised and she bled out very quickly.

It took no time for "Max" to crack each zombies' skulls open to get to the brain matter inside; like ganache inside a chocolate egg. Samuel, turning into the same kind of hard head his dad is said, "That's disgusting. That's one of those mutant zombies like in the Big Horde isn't it?"

"I thought I told you and Sarah to keep your heads down," I answered him.

"Yes ma'am, but I'm a guy and guys … "

"Are stooopid," finished Sarah as she kicked him in the ankle. "Mom said get down and if you don't I'm gonna tell your Mom."

That's all I needed. "Knock it off you two. Yes, 'Max' appears to be one of those mutant zombies. Unfortunately we've got bigger problems. Samuel, how many zombies besides 'Max' do you see?"

"I think maybe eight or nine in the street if you take off the two that just had their heads cracked open. But there might be more wherever they came from or some I can't see."

"OK, no arguments. I want you two to stay here. The sooner we get these picked off the sooner we'll be able to figure out if any of our people have been hurt."

Sarah said, "Make that seven" after a rifle shot from up the street brought down another zombie.

That was likely one of our people because the only weapon I had seen The Kid with was a shotgun. As soon I as I thought that however there was a shotgun blast but I couldn't tell if it hit anything or not. That was either The Kid or it could have been Dante' or Jim who both were carrying 12 gauges.

It became a scene from an old Western movie with the town people ganging up on the bandits that have come to cause problems. Shots rang out constantly for the next ten minutes extinguishing all of the zombies except "Max," punk girl who was quickly reanimating, and one other zombie wearing the remnants of a soldier's uniform.

"Max" had finally finished with the two zombies he had been noshing on and was beginning to sniff around punk girl. That I thought was too much for me and I placed a .22 bullet in her forehead. I heard Sarah and Samuel gasp but I was passed caring; I was done with the Fractured Fairytale that the picture of those two together created.

"Max" quickly lost interest in his former lover and turned to the soldier zombie who had just chased The Kid into the next building over from us which was the Bernini with its serpentine shaped copper bar. A high pitched scream let all of us know who had been trying to get to the scene that it was too late. I skidded to a halt and belched at the sight before me. Soldier zombie had ripped a whole bunch of The Kid's tattoos off leaving behind gleaming skull. "Max" deftly twisted the soldier zombie's head off before he'd even finished getting stuffing the tattooed skin into its mouth and then ran to the back of the building and disappeared from view.

Horror was clearly visible in The Kid's eyes as he reached a hand out to us for help. Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he succumbed to shock and massive blood loss. Jim, on the scene as well, looked around at each of us like he was seeing if anyone else had called dibs already then blew The Kid's brain apart before he had a chance to reanimate.

We kept an eye out for "Max" the rest of the work day but never caught a glimpse of his pink Mohawk again. The door at the rear of Bernini's had stood wide open and no dought Max was on the scent of his next meal.

I suppose you could say that is the most bizarre thing we dealt with today but it wasn't the end of the interesting stuff.

By the time that the loading crew was back from the rail yard we already had enough stuff for them to take another full load again. We spent the next couple of hours combing the rest of 7th Avenue. We grabbed uniform pieces, paper goods, all of the non-perishable foods left in the bars and restaurants, liquors from the bars, box and boxes of cutlery and dishware, lots of pots and pans, propane canisters, sterno cans, candles, office supplies, and a multitude of other items too lengthy to list. Suffice it to say that we have our work cut out for us in terms of getting everything stored away. It's the same kind of trouble we had when we first started the gathering runs directly around Sanctuary. Stuff came in a lot faster than we had teams to organize it and put it away.

We cleaned out Carmine's, Castillo's, Harpo's, La Tropicana, and many other places along "The Avenue." Then some of us began to hop over to 8th Avenue. Jim and his crew immediately headed for the New World Brewery and I don't even know what all they drug out of that place. I do know that between there and the Tampa Brewing Company they got cases and cases of empty bottles and other bottling equipment to go with their plans for the still. I joshed him a little and told him he better be saving some of those for the kids or they were going to fuss when I told them I couldn't make any more root beer 'cause the grownups hogged all the bottles. He rolled his eyes but gave me a wink right afterwards. Jim's almost as big a sucker for the kids as Angus is.

I can only imagine what Angus would be up to if he was around. Sarah and Samuel told "Uncle Angus" stories all through lunch with the other kids. All of us wonder if he is OK and when he might be coming home. Tomorrow it will be a week since he's been gone. It bothers me that he didn't have anyone to watch his back. I know the men have tried to guess more than once his return date but with absolutely no idea what route he took or how far away he went it's almost impossible to be accurate to any degree at all.

Speaking of Angus, when we hit the small Centro Ybor Mall the kids were devastated to find out that all the candy in the place was gone. I suspect the group that our punkers had belonged to cleaned any candy and canned soda out long ago. We found a lot of containers of soda syrup at the movie theater but without the fizzy water to add them to they are pretty useless. I've been reminding everyone to grab all of the club soda they find but there hasn't even been much of that either. I may be reduced to drinking old fashioned effervescent sodas if I get desperate. They are made using baking soda and they don't stay fizzy long at all, but some treat would be better than nothing at all.

The other places in Centro Ybor that yielded some goodies included Starbucks, Stogie's, and several of the clothing stores. There was a silver jewelry store in there that I smashed and grabbed a lot of the good silver pieces out of. I figured Scott may be able to melt them down and make something from them that we actually need though I can't imagine what at the moment. The Muvico Theater was a treasure trove of popcorn, salt, paper goods, cleaning supplies, office supplies, and lots of condiments. It will be a long time before we run out of nacho cheese as we loaded at least three cases of #10 cans of the stuff, and not that many fewer jars of jalapeno pepper slices. We even got some decent supplies from the big GameWorks entertainment venue.

The way I make it sound all of this stuff was just easy to grab and walk away with. Well it wasn't. Even though the non-perishable stuff in cans and glass containers was OK, a lot of the perishable stuff had rotted where it sat. Lucky for us most of the rotting was long over with and the smell wasn't all that dissimilar from what we had to put up with from the zombies. And rats and roaches left pretty disgusting evidence of their existence as well.

Then there was the fact that the lighting in back and/or windowless areas was almost nonexistent. Every team had two wind up flashlights but it didn't help that much. We pulled curtains down and opened back doors to get what natural light that we could but some of us still got a little nervy.

For instance, a little after lunch time Dante' hunted me down and asked me to take Laura for the rest of the afternoon if I could stand it. "Either someone takes her or she isn't going to make it home to her mother." Alrighty then. Daddy had obviously had just about as much of daughter as he could handle. By the end of the day I'd had just about as much of the girl as I could stand as well. She was milking the situation for all it was worth. The only things she wanted to gather was jewelry, make up, clothes and shoes for herself or stuff that might "go nice in her room." When she caught on that she wasn't going to work me like she could work her dad she got nasty and tried to get Sarah upset by flirting with Samuel. Samuel eventually came to me and asked if I would ask her to stop it because it was embarrassing him. He didn't want to hurt her feelings but she was pushing him into a corner and he didn't like that she kept touching him.

I have no idea where she was getting this stuff but I suspect that there was a little more than "friendship" between her and Marty. That did not bode well for Tina and Dante' if they couldn't get her to settle down until she was old enough to be responsible for her actions. I finally had Samuel and Sarah hook up with Jim's group for a few minutes and took Laura aside for a little reality check. She was furious with me and didn't like being confronted at all. Tina isn't in any shape to deal with this crap and I hated like sin to have to say anything to Dante' but I'm no fool. I wasn't about to have Laura twist my words and go running to her parents and start something to draw the fire off of herself.

To say that Dante' was upset was an understatement but it wasn't directed at me. He was hurt but not surprised. Apparently he'd had a sister with the same issue of hitting puberty and being boy crazy really early. His parents laid down the law and gave her a bunch of rule/consequence boundaries and he said she eventually grew into her earthy personality with more commonsense than she started out with. I think Miss Laura is about to find out that her immediate future is so full of work that she doesn't have time to worry or wonder about boys, sex, or anything else for a while. The girl isn't my direct responsibility or problem but she could easily become everyone's indirect problem if she doesn't learn to cooperate and live by the rules. If she was older it might be easier to take, but eleven and twelve years old and already going through this stuff? Whew, knock on wood and pray like crazy that I never have to deal with it with my kids.

We were nearing the end of our work day when Jim came walking up with this young man out of the middle of nowhere. He'd been holed up in one of the little casitas over in the Ybor City Museum healing from a tumble he'd taken during a running flight from some zombies.

Brian Phillips is 22 years old and a little on the stocky side. At 5' 11" he isn't the tallest man in camp but he isn't the shortest either. He had been visiting family right outside Tampa when everything went crazy, losing them one by one; to the riots, then medical issues, and finally to the zombies themselves. He'd just been wandering since then trying to find a group that he was compatible with. Reba and I patched him up best we could but he could have used stitches earlier on. He was going to have a star shaped scar near his temple where a chick he'd picked up and tried to offer some safety subsequently nearly killed him in the middle of the night so that she could steal his food and gear for herself. He'd had several encounters like that since August and the only thing that brought him out of the woodwork is Jim's accent and natural charm and the invitation to have someone take a look at his cuts and bruises.

He agreed, after some hesitation, to come back with us to Sanctuary at least for a couple of days. Poor guy really is wary after all he's been through. I can't imagine trying to make it alone this whole time and every time he did try and get with some folks he was rebuffed rather harshly. He's a big guy and I hope it works out. We could use a few more men in camp. He's a little young but time will take care of that fast enough. And frankly, if we can stand to have the tweens walk around armed and carrying their load, I'm certainly not going to object to a twenty-something doing the same thing.

Jim took Brian on the next to last flat bed run back to the rail yard to me Matlock and Dix and the rest of the men who themselves were preparing the second load of box cars to take back to Sanctuary for the day.

One of the last places we all went to gather from was the Don Vincente de Ybor Hotel over off the Republica de Cuba at the corner of 9th Avenue. That was a little outside the area that we had outlined to gather in but we were so close that it was a shame to not take advantage of it. The Grand Salon area, despite being exposed to the weather through broken windows and some obvious looting was still beautiful. The main dining room had seen some rough times as well but the brick walls weren't going anywhere though the wooden paneling was damaged. I would have loved to try to save the old wooden bar in the café that adjoined the dining room but where we would put it is another matter; the thing is huge. We did salvage a lot of glasses and liquor from the hidden cabinets; same thing for the Lounge that used to be a hidden Speakeasy.

From the rooms and housekeeping areas we gathered a lot of high quality linens, pillows, and curtains that can be sewn into coats and other types of clothing. We also rolled up some really nice area rugs. Most people had started pulling up the carpeting off of the floors in their houses within the compound. Scott and I had done that years ago and replaced it with ceramic tile or karndean flooring. The floors are just easier to maintain now that we don't have electric vacuums to use. Brooms and dust mops do the trick. Where we do have rugs we just roll them up and take them outside and beat them. The rugs we bring back will help with the process of converting some of the houses to something that is easier to clean and maintain in today's world.

We would have hit the Hilton that was also on 9th Avenue but it had seen some serious fire damage and we didn't know how structurally sound it was.

The absolutely last place we went, and we were still trying to carry everything to the trolley stop by the time Jim came back and said we needed to hurry up, that they were ready to head out with the last load of box cars, was La Segunda Bakery. All of the perishable stuff had gone off a long time ago but I was amazed that in the back where the walk in cooler was they still had hundreds of pounds of flour that had been untouched by rodents or insects. My mouth fell open and I had everyone within close earshot find lidded containers to pack it in for transporting back to Sanctuary. They also had many, many gallons of soybean oil, a ton of bags of platinos chips and yucca roots that looked like they might still be viable if I get them in the ground sooner rather than later. There were even some smoked hams and sausages hanging in another smaller cooler. Because they'd been sealed, they were untouched and I was doing the happy dance thinking about what I could cook for dinner over the next few days.

There were lots and lots of spices, bread crumbs in sealed containers (although some of these had been munched by rats judging by the holes in the sides), cans of Cuban coffee, bottles of lime and lemon juice, and back in the manager's office all the fixings for Cuba Libre … white rum, lime juice, AND coca cola. I had to stop a yippee in mid yip or I was likely to draw half the zombie population in the area. There was no way I could claim a whole case of soda for myself but I admit I did stick one can down in my pack when no one was looking. I decided that I'd feel guilty about it later, especially when Sarah and Samuel were laughing at my antics.

We were in a rush to get back to the rail yard by that point. It was going to be a push to get back to Sanctuary before dark set in.

No matter how fast you want to go, there is only so much speed in a school bus to begin with. You add bumpy roads, streets cluttered with decaying debris from riots and broken down cars, and the occasional zombie that lacks the sense to get out of the way and you wind up even more nerve-wrenchingly slow. Eventually however we did pull into Sanctuary only to find that the train had already arrived long enough ago to have them preparing to come look for us.

After relieved greetings were exchanged and an explanation given for our delay we settled in to wolf down the meal that had been kept warm for us. We were starving and I made sure that I mentioned how appreciative I was of the hearty stew that had been fixed. I'm hoping that by modeling appreciation for other people's efforts I'm teaching the kids not to take the good things in life for granted.

It was during the meal that we found out that the flyers the men had posted all over the place on the North Florida Run had yielded the first results. A tall, burly young man was introduced to us as we introduced Brian to those that had stayed at Sanctuary.

Chris is about 6'2" with blue eyes and brown hair in a buzz cut barely grown out. The small glasses he was wearing looked like they'd seen better days and Scott offered to see if he could solder them or fix them in some way until he could find a replacement pair that worked. Chris is the epitome of the clean cut college kid and I was dying to know how he had managed to keep his hair cut all by himself.

Well, he hadn't started out all by himself. Originally from Maryland he had been at college in Virginia when he decided to take a semester and spend it on independent study. He had been travelling with friends from UCF to a history conference at UF when things really unraveled. I75 splits Gainesville wide open and the town was inundated with refugees from larger cities and those from the rural areas who had come to town to try and get supplies. The infrastructure and services were unable to handle the influx and quickly deteriorated to the point of non-existance. People were camped in the Mall parking lot, along the side of the road; basically anywhere they could find space. The fuel quickly disappeared from all of the gas stations as well trapping people away from home. Then violent demonstrations started on the UF campus, turned into riots, and spread throughout the entire region.

After the riots came the zombies. It only took a few and the tightly compacted new populations quickly succumbed to NRS. A bunch of kids and professors tried to hole up in the brick buildings on campus and were OK for a few days. Then the power went out, they ran out of food, and then they ran out of water. Some kids left trying to get home but most were cut down in the parking lots before they could even start their journey. Slowly, one by one, they all died or ran away on their own leaving Chris the sole uninfected human at UF as far as he is aware.

He'd been alone so long he thought he was imagining things when he saw Juicer and the men searching the campus for signs of life. Before he could convince himself they weren't an hallucination they were gone. One of the flyers eventually blew close enough so that he could grab it. Using a battery powered radio from one of the security offices on campus he was finally able to listen to the Sanctuary broadcast enough to have a general direction to head in. He could receive until the batteries ran out, but not transmit. It took him weeks to plan his escape, save a few supplies, and then walk all the way from Gainesville to Tampa.

He figured if Sanctuary hadn't worked out at least he was doing something proactive which was what he had been missing for a while. Staying "safe" in the Social Sciences building only worked to occupy him for so long. He was used to a much more physical lifestyle and being cooped up was making him sick; for instance he had been to the national Frisbee Intramurals several times.

The Wall guards had spotted him before he was a mile out and watched him walk all the way straight up to the gate. The men had just brought in the first load of box cars and were unloading them. It was actually Dix that made the offer to join us.

So now we have two more men to add to Sanctuary's population. We are up to 56 people. We estimate that 75 or 80 residents is going to be our limit for now and that we'll only be able to pull that off if we get our farming ramped up.

Tomorrow McElroy is going to take the dozer and finish knocking down the small grouping of buildings that are at the SW corner of the outside of the Wall. They are no longer structurally sound after the effects of the pirates' fires and the explosions during the Raid. All of the debris will be pushed to the side like an earthen berm and I am designating that area a cornfield. It's not going to be easy. Corn requires a lot of nitrogen and that is poor soil to begin with but I have until next month to plow in as much compost as I can. We're going to need the corn for ourselves and for the animals almost as soon as we can get it to come in.

Speaking of animals there is a short run planned up to the Pasco County Animal Shelter and the SPCA shelter in the next few days. We hope to find more cows, horses, and any other farm animals. I wouldn't even mind another couple of cats since the ones that sometimes hang out here in Sanctuary are so standoffish these days. They come and go at will and get more feral every day. We have to be very careful of the chickens. We haven't seen them since the raid but we've seen evidence of them. The Calico's kittens, now mature cats too, drop off the occasional rat that they've caught. I suppose in some kind of weird gratitude for our care early on. Or maybe they are trying to teach us poor, stupid humans to hunt. Either way I suppose I should be thankful that they at least try and make a dent in the local rodent population.

Our future schedule is primarily dependent on how quickly we can get the Wall completely secured. Our plan is, much like we did when we enlarged the Wall the first time, to get the first level up all the way around the new area to be enclosed leaving the inner, old Wall in place. Then we'll dismantle the old Wall and use it as the second (and potentially third) level on top of the new first level. Nifty.

Eventually we'd like to have two, fully complete Walls but that is some time off. To have both an Inner Wall and an outer Curtain Wall, complete with inner and outer gates, etc. will require a lot of man hours, materials, and effort. Rome wasn't built in a day and neither will be Sanctuary's defenses. One of the main planting seasons is approaching and we also need to gather and store as much of what remains as quickly as possible before it all goes to ruin. The gathering will give us an edge and a cushion to offset any coming troubles. And there are always troubles coming.

Tomorrow I'll be working on the gardens during the morning and in the afternoon, assuming I can get everything finished that I want to do for the day, I'll be helping put all the food we found into the food storehouse. We brought back a lot of metal shelving and racks so I'm hoping that our organizing is a little easier than trying to stuff things in tubs and stack them wherever we can fit them.

I think we've all had about enough for the day. I left the men sitting out back around a fire talking to Brian and Chris. Likely they are trying to gather more information on survivor groups and see how people are addressing issues that are common to us all; water, food, shelter, security, etc.

As for me, I'm taking the little boys who have been attached to Scott and I like barnacles since we pulled in and going to bed. Kitty, Sissy, and Bekah have been pretty close to me as well. The rest of my brood is settling down as well the best they can. I'll be happy to finally get the house back to ourselves again. We're so overflowing right now we almost have to sleep in shifts for lack of space.


	121. Day 164

**Day 164 (Jan 11)**

Well. How is it possible to get so hacked off at a kid that isn't your own that you are in danger of snatching the kid ballheaded without hardly thinking about it? Laura figured out I wouldn't rise to anything she said and couldn't get away with pulling any crap with the other adults so she decided to go after my kids. I came so close to slapping that child I was shaking and had to walk away from her.

Mostly it is Sarah she is getting to because she knows she can. Sarah just doesn't know how to defend herself against that kind of meanness. She's a lot like my mom. I don't want her to suffer the way my mom did in later life so I'm going to have to teach her how to be tougher … and I'm sorry I have to. I pray I have the wisdom to walk the fine line between helping her be stronger and changing her personality in some fundamental way that changes who she is. I love who she is, she just needs to be able to defend herself from all the crap that goes on in life better.

Patricia has also been upset by all of this. Laura is using Samuel as a way to get to Sarah. That's a really bad situation that has both Jack and Dix upset. Patricia still can't get too stressed or she has to go lie down because she starts cramping.

Sarah was too young … OK maybe not too young, but too inexperienced … to understand what was going on until I sat down and explained everything to her. This just makes me so irritable. I hate getting dragged into this juvenile stuff when there are so many more important things going on in our lives. On the other hand my daughter needs me to intervene in a situation that is not of her making and that she is confused about and I'm more than willing to drop what I'm doing to help. I just really have a problem with what is causing the problem.

Part of it is that both girls are maturing physically early, but not necessarily becoming self aware at the same rate. For Sarah the changes aren't really an issue at the moment and doesn't really make her self-conscious, at least I don't think it does. I'm not omniscient. And if Sarah was able to upset her about it perhaps there is something to that after all. I just don't know. We homeschooled so Sarah didn't ever have to deal with the boat load of nasty crap girls can get up to when they're jealous, although she did experience some of it in scouts and her other extracurricular activities; kids are kids no matter what you try and do or how you try and protect them. Laura has started dressing provocatively whenever she can get away with it so she's much more into the attention. Sarah is like Rose, she has just always been more comfortable dressing modestly because it fit the activities she was involved in better. And getting busty early meant she needed good bras early too; something we've struggled to continue to provide her with these days when there are no stores that we can go to. Most of us women are having the same problems. Some have adjusted and can get away with sports bras or going braless altogether. My girls and I can't. It's a pain to be honest but part of our reality.

Bekah was the one that came and got me and told me that Sarah was in their bedroom crying. She was embarrassed and didn't want to talk to me at first. Part of her didn't want to get Laura in trouble either which didn't make my job as her mother any easier. Bottom line is that Laura has pushed a wedge between Samuel and Sarah's friendship because she keeps making insinuations about the kind of relationship that they have. Samuel is fourteen and a physically mature boy for his age. His face looks 14 but the rest of him doesn't. He reminds me of my cousins after a summer of hard labor on my grandfather's farm. But being that he is older, and that he has had to deal with a lot of adult issues recently because of his dad's affair and his mom's rape and subsequent pregnancy, he didn't have any problem understanding what Laura was getting at. That made him uncomfortable and I don't blame him.

The two kids are just friends; there isn't anything more to it. One day? Who knows, but at least for Sarah that's a ways down the road. I think she has a crush on Samuel but more because he seems to know so much about animals than anything else. He's just a nice kid. Patricia has said more than once that Samuel is the best part of her and Dix. I agree.

Now? Now my eleven year old daughter is heartbroken because Samuel has said he doesn't think it's a good idea for them to work together so much anymore. He's worried that "people" might say stupid things about it. I can't blame him for trying to avoid trouble but I sure don't like that he has hurt Sarah in the process. Kids caught between a rock and a hard place just trying to figure out what is right. And trying to explain all of this to Scott was just so much fun. Neither one of us wants to cause Tina and Dante' any more pain but this will not continue.

Scott said to let Samuel be; it wouldn't hurt for Sarah to spend more time with other people. I'm not sure who he expects her to be able to spend time with but I don't necessarily disagree with him either. Maybe amongst the kids in quarantine there will be a special friend for Sarah. And, Bekah has missed the attention she used to get from Sarah as well.

I told Sarah sometimes things just don't go the way we want them to and when they don't we have to find something else to make us happy, maybe stuff we used to do. Well that brought on another round of tears. I never knew my girls to be such watering pots so I think the strain of everything that has gone on the last couple of weeks and then the Raid and the consequences we are living with since then is getting to them. I asked them, "What are you two crying about now?"

Well, it seems they were going through some of their old papers and things to clear out some space – Rose's idea, not mine – and they ran across their Girl Scout Cookie Order Form from last year. January was when they would have started pre-sales and now they'd never do that again. Then they started talking about all the things they used to do in scouts, and their friends from scouts, and how they'd never taste a Girl Scout cookie again and oh … my … word. Their poor little broken hearts nearly made me cry. The only thing I could think of to tell them was that they could make cookies if that was what they wanted. Oh no. They wanted Girl Scout cookies.

Well, wouldn't you know that just for the heck of it last year I had copied off some copy cat recipes from the Internet and stuck them in my recipe folder? I had gotten into a discussion on a preparedness forum about things that we were likely to miss in the event that the doo actually did hit the fan blades some day. I mean of course everyone mentioned running water and electricity but some of us took it further and talked about things like sodas and our favorite candies. I can remember that conversation like it was yesterday now, but until the girls reminded me I had plum forgotten all about it.

I was feeling generous and apparently based on the reaction after dinner no one else had any objection to a little squandering of resources either. I let the girls bake cookies. They made copycats of Samoas, Thin Mints, Dosidos, and Tagalongs. They were at it most of the day because they had to bake them in reflector ovens set to catch the heat from the hot water fire and the fire we simmered the cauldron of vegetable soup over, but you've never seen such a happy kids. It made me realize that it had been a while since they had simply been allowed to have fun ... nothing else, just fun. For posterity I've copied out the recipes and attached them to this journal. Maybe someone else will find them useful some day.

It wasn't even lunch time yet and I had a massive headache from dealing with all of the angst. I was sorely tempted to knock back a couple of aspirin and chase it with my illicit soda. But if I drank it up too fast I wouldn't have any later. The can is still sitting on a shelf in my closet. It gives me a strange satisfaction when I unlock the door and know it is nestled between all of our photo albums, the kids' baby books, and the extra toilet paper I have hidden in there. Instead I sucked back an Aleve and a short glass of goat milk and got back to work.

Oh boy had I underestimated the mess we would have to deal with. Everything that we had gathered from Ybor City amounted to about two large boxcars full of stuff. On top of that towards the end of the day it started clouding up. I don't know for sure that we'll see rain, but it sure smelled like it was on the air and coming down some place.

Possible rain meant that we had to really hop to it and try and find everything a home. Most of the men were involved in bringing in more box cars and setting up the Wall. McElroy stayed with a crew that was working on creating solid foundations for the boxcars to sit in. This crew was also removing the Janney coupler mechanisms from the box cars so that they could be positioned as close together as possible. This involved some muscle power, and a couple of oversized wrenches, to removed some strategically placed bolts and pins. If only removed the undercarriage wheels had been so easy.

To stabilize the ground, first it is scraped flat and any debris removed. Then dry cement and limestone gravel is tilled into the soil. After that the vibrating roller compacts and flattens the area and levels it out. After the leveling a couple of box cars are set in place. The boxcar is so heavy that it usually sinks into the dirt which is fine, but that also means that the boxcar has to be leveled as well. Once that is accomplished a Bobcat is used to put more dirt that has had dry concrete and gravel mixed with it around the cars.

When everything has gone according to plan … and so far they've only had to dig out one when it sank too far … each box car's side door sits only about six inches above the ground. The kids then come in and place a single layer of sand bags to finish what amounts to a footer section for the Wall.

They laid out the Wall's new perimeter this morning; at least the first section of it. McElroy finished clearing the whole section by lunch time. After that the men responsible for tilling in the cement and gravel got four box car lengths out in front. The man operating the vibrating roller followed them getting two box car lengths done at a time. Then the crew that moved and positioned boxcars tried to stay two box car lengths behind them. After that the man operating the Bobcat and the cement truck that was tumbling sand, dry cement and gravel into a mix, as well as the kids carrying sand bags, followed behind and did their best to keep up. While they did all of that there was another crew that was bringing boxcars from the rail yard; by the end of today they had brought 158 box cars to Sanctuary. They were lined up in rows along our southern border as that is the Wall portion we started to extend first. At an average of fifty feet in length that meant we had exactly a mile and a half of box cars. As crazy as it sounds that is nowhere near enough.

If I understand Matlock and Scott's drawings each side of the Wall, if you were to stretch it out straight, is going to be about a half-mile in length. That means that we need another half mile worth of box cars. We can easily bring that over tomorrow but they are going to continue bringing boxcars over for another two days. Whatever we don't need to finish the current Wall will be used to begin forming a second outer Wall at some point. Scott's working the numbers to see if we'll have enough steel storage containers to place on top as a second layer but I'm not sure.

Looking at the numbers a different way, there are just under 7,000,000 square feet in a square half-mile. That is roughly 160 acres. That's not really much to support between 60 and 80 people, only about 2 acres per person to live on, raise animals on, and grow food on. The orange grove and native fruit grove already take up about five of those acres. We will have no choice but to eventually expand if we want to remain viable but for now 160 acres is about all we can take care of.

Just listening to all the work was exhausting. It all went like clockwork so long as the zombies didn't get too ambitious or too high in numbers. The noise did draw quite a few, but no hordes thank goodness. Mostly just shamblers far along in their decomp phase. There weren't any less dangerous or infectious but they were slower and easier to pick off.

While the new Wall went up bit by bit, I tried to break down the fruits of our gathering run into manageable chunks. It became apparent really fast that the paper system that Dante' and Hank have been using simply is no longer tenable. I couldn't locate anything in their filing system and frankly the way things were tossed willy nilly into the storage containers is driving me nuts. I made a command decision and some of what was gathered never got counted. I divided it up between the various households and just told them to take it and store and secure it in their homes the best they could. I went through the white linen sheets and table cloths and then folded them and had Rose and Melody set them aside to go into the hospital for bandages. Everyone got three aprons before I packed the rest away, and any of the clothing that was brought back as well.

Then it was on to the food and cooking equipment. Some of the flour has weevils in it but it is still usable. I just advanced those supplies in the rotation and made sure everyone knows they need to sift the flour before use. The smoked meats I found went right into our smoke house for storage. So far the design Mr. Morris created is rodent proof and insect proof, but we are rotating stuff out of there pretty quickly. The boxes and tubs of cutlery and dishes I stacked in the cabinets Scott had built in the open-air Dining Hall. Most of the dishes that we had been storing there were smashed to bits during the Raid and we were all happy to have replacements. Same for the drinking glasses and big serving pieces. The cooking utensils and similar gizmos were stored in the cabinets in the outdoor kitchen. The huge aluminum and stainless steel pots were hung from the rafters above the cook area in anticipation of finding another wood burning cook stove (or two).

I did have to throw away some things that were gathered. I didn't keep opened condiments or opened bottles of liquor that were suspect for some reason. There were a few canned items that I tossed as well because the cans were bulging or too rusted. I took food grade five gallon buckets and filled them with salt and sugar – being very sure to label them clearly – and then stacked them in the food store house on the bottom floor. Other items that couldn't be combined in some way to save space I just did the best I could with. I tried to find most every type of thing a logical place to call home.

On and on we went through the rest of the afternoon but I still have quite a bit left to do tomorrow. Despite bringing back so much stuff I still keep finding things that I wish we had or at least had more of. I'd like to have more molasses and similar type sweeteners. We need more matches and other fire starters. We brought back all the soap and cleaners that we could but nearly 60 people can go through a high volume of soap and shampoo with daily washing. Scott is out of razors and now just trims his heavy beard the best he can. I don't even want to talk about how my legs look. I do the best to keep my hair rinsed out but mostly I try and save the shampoo for the rest of the family. Despite its length I usually just keep my hair twisted up and out of the way. Add a bandana and I can get away with a solid hair wash once a week.

Borax, glycerin, bees wax, fels naptha, witch hazel, and several other items are on my big wish list as well so that I can make homemade cleaning products. Despite dealing with this day in and day out I'm still amazed at the amount of stuff we took for granted. I can't imagine what would be happening if we were any more densely populated than what this area appears to be. Betcha deodorant would bring a pretty high price at a barter market.

Hopefully next week when we go out to the fairgrounds we'll be able to get at least a few things we need. It really bothers me to see our need list getting longer faster than we can mark things off.

Homemade Samoas (a.k.a. Caramel de-Lites)

Cookies  
1 cup butter, soft  
1/2 cup sugar  
2 cups all purpose flour  
1/4 tsp baking powder  
1/2 tsp salt  
1/2 tsp vanilla extract  
up to 2 tbsp milk

Preheat oven to 350F. In a large mixing bowl, cream together butter and sugar. Mix in flour, baking powder and salt at a low speed, followed by the vanilla and milk, adding in the milk as needed to make the dough come together without being sticky (it's possible you might not need to add milk at all). The dough should come together into a soft, not-too-sticky ball. Add in a bit of extra flour if your dough is very sticky. Roll the dough (working in two or three batches) out between pieces of wax paper to about 1/4-inch thickness (or slightly less) and use a 1 1/2-inch cookie cutter to make rounds. Place on a parchment lined baking sheet and use a knife, or the end of a wide straw, to cut a smaller center hole. Repeat with remaining dough. Alternatively, use scant tablespoons of dough and press into an even layer in a mini donut pan to form the rounds. Bake cookies for 10-12 minutes, until bottoms are lightly browned and cookies are set. If using a mini donut pan, bake for only about 10 minutes, until edges are light gold. Cool for a few minutes on the baking sheet then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Topping  
3 cups shredded coconut (sweetened or unsweetened)  
12-oz good-quality chewy caramels  
1/4 tsp salt  
3 tbsp milk  
8 oz. dark or semisweet chocolate (chocolate chips are ok)

Preheat oven to 300. Spread coconut evenly on a parchment-lined baking sheet (preferably one with sides) and toast 20 minutes, stirring every 5 minutes, until coconut is golden. Cool on baking sheet, stirring occasionally. Set aside. Unwrap the caramels and place in a large microwave-safe bowl with milk and salt. Cook on high for 3-4 minutes, stopping to stir a few times to help the caramel melt. When smooth, fold in toasted coconut with a spatula. Using the spatula or a small offset spatula, spread topping on cooled cookies, using about 2-3 tsp per cookie. Reheat caramel for a few seconds in the microwave if it gets too firm to work with. While topping sets up, melt chocolate in a small bowl. Heat on high in the microwave in 45 second intervals, stirring thoroughly to prevent scorching. Dip the base of each cookie into the chocolate and place on a clean piece of parchment paper. Transfer all remaining chocolate (or melt a bit of additional chocolate, if necessary) into a piping bag or a ziplock bag with the corner snipped off and drizzle finished cookies with chocolate. Let chocolate set completely before storing in an airtight container. Makes about 3 1/2-4 dozen cookies.

Homemade Thin Mints

2 1/4 cups all purpose flour  
1/4 cup cornstarch  
6 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder  
1/2 tsp salt  
1 cup white sugar  
1/2 cup butter, room temperature  
1/3 cup milk (any kind)  
1/2 tsp vanilla extract  
3/4 tsp peppermint extract

In a small bowl, whisk together flour, cornstarch, cocoa powder and salt. In a large bowl, cream together butter and sugar. With the mixer on low speed, add in the milk and the extracts. Mixture will look curdled. Gradually, add in the flour mixture until fully incorporated. Shape dough into two logs, about 1 1/2 inches (or about 4 cm) in diameter, wrap in plastic wrap and freeze for at least 1-2 hours, until dough is very firm. Preheat oven to 375F. Slice dough into rounds not more than 1/4 inch thick - if they are too thick, they will not be as crisp - and place on a parchment lined baking sheet. Cookies will not spread very much, so you can put them quite close together. Bake for 13-15 minutes, until cookies are firm at the edges. Cool cookies completely on a wire rack before dipping in chocolate.

Dark Chocolate Coating  
10-oz dark or semisweet chocolate  
1/2 cup butter, room temperature

In a microwave safe bowl, combine chocolate and butter. Melt on high power in the microwave, stirring every 45-60 seconds, until chocolate is smooth. Chocolate should have a consistency somewhere between chocolate syrup and fudge for a thin coating. Dip each cookie in melted chocolate, turn with a fork to coat, then transfer to a piece of parchment paper or wax paper to set up for at least 30 minutes, or until chocolate is cool and firm. Reheat chocolate as needed to keep it smooth and easy to dip into. Makes 3 1/2-4 dozen cookies.

Homemade Do-si-dos a.k.a. Peanut Butter Sandwich Cookies

Cookies  
2 1/4 cups all purpose flour  
2 tbsp baking soda  
1 tbsp baking powder  
1/2 tsp salt  
1 1/2 cups unsalted butter, room temperature  
3/4 cup chunky peanut butter  
1 cup brown sugar  
1 cup sugar  
3 large eggs  
1 tsp vanilla extract  
1 1/2 cups quick-cooking oats (not instant or regular)

Filling  
1 1/2 cups creamy peanut butter, room temperature  
1/2 cup butter, room temperature  
1/4 cup confectioners' sugar

Preheat oven to 350F. Start with the cookies. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. In a large bowl, cream together butter and peanut butter. Beat in the sugars until fluffy, then add in the eggs one at a time, waiting until each is fully incorporated before adding the next. Stir in vanilla extract. Working at a low speed, mix in the flour, followed by the oats (if you don't have quick-cooking, pulse whole rolled oats in the food processor to chop them up a bit). On a parchment-lined baking sheet, drop teaspoonfuls of batter (roughly 3/4-in. sized balls), leaving about 2 inches between each to allow for spread. Bake for about 10 minutes, until cookies are a light golden brown. Cool on baking sheet for 5 minutes, making small holes in 1/2 of the cookies (for the tops of the sandwiches) before they set up. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Once cookies have cooled, make the filling. In a large bowl, cream together smooth peanut butter, butter and confectioners' sugar until very smooth. Spread 2-3 tsp onto half of the finished cookies and sandwich with the remaining halves. If you chose to make yours with GS-lookalike holes in some of the cookies, use these as the tops of the sandwiches. Store in an airtight container. Makes about 48 sandwich cookies.

Homemade Tagalongs (a.k.a. Peanut Butter Patties)

Cookies  
1 cup butter, soft  
1/2 cup sugar  
2 cups all purpose flour  
1/4 tsp baking powder  
1/2 tsp salt  
1/2 tsp vanilla extract  
2 tbsp milk  
Preheat oven to 350F.

In a large mixing bowl, cream together butter and sugar. Mix in flour, baking powder and salt at a low speed, followed by the vanilla and milk. The dough should come together into a soft ball. Take a tablespoon full of dough and flatten it into a disc about 1/4-inch thick. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet and repeat with remaining dough. Cookies will not spread too much, so you can squeeze them in more than you would for chocolate chip cookies. (Alternatively, you can use a cookie cutter, as described in the post above). Bake cookies for 11-13 minutes, until bottoms and the edges are lightly browned and cookies are set. Immediately after removing cookies from the oven, use your thumb or a small spoon to make a depression in the center of each cookie Cool for a few minutes on the baking sheet then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Filling  
1 1/2 cups creamy peanut butter (natural or regular)  
3/4 cup confectioners' sugar*  
generous pinch salt  
1/2 tsp vanilla extract  
about 8-oz semisweet chocolate

In a small bowl, whisk together peanut butter, confectioners' sugar, salt and vanilla. When the mixture has come together, heat it in the microwave (again in short intervals, stirring frequently), until it is very, very soft. Working carefully with the hot filling, transfer it to a pastry bag (or plastic bag with the tip cut off) and pipe a generous dome of the filling into each cookie's "thumbprint". Chill cookies with filling for 20-30 minutes, or until the peanut butter is firm. Melt the chocolate in a small, heat-resistant bowl. This can be done in a microwave (with frequent stirring) or on a double boiler, but the bowl of melted chocolate should ultimately be placed above a pan of hot, but not boiling, water to keep it fluid while you work. Dip chilled cookies into chocolate, let excess drip off, and place on a sheet of parchment paper to let the cookies set up. The setting process can be accelerated by putting the cookies into the refrigerator once they have been coated. Makes about 3-dozen


	122. Day 165

Day 165

I feel like Jack Nicholson when he played the president in Mars Attacks. "Why can't we all just get along?" …. And then the Martians disintegrated him.

OK, fine, it's not quite as bad as that but given our small population every little brouhaha feels larger than it really is. It's not just the Laura thing either, although Dante' and Scott are on the outs a bit because Scott tried to talk to Dante' about how Laura treated Sarah. They aren't really angry at each other but it's uncomfortable because of the subject matter and are avoiding each other as much as possible. Dante' knows that Laura is a problem, but she is still his daughter and he wants to defend her. Scott likes Dante' and really doesn't want to berate the man for something that is the daughter's issue. Its lose-lose all the way around. Tina is just now able to get up and around but no one wants to see her have to deal with this so quickly. She looks like a feather would knock her over and break her into a dozen pieces.

Rose and David still haven't really made up either. David has put everything in Rose's lap as far as whether to continue to be "more than friends" and frankly Rose just doesn't know what to do with that. I'm not sure if David realizes it. But they are old enough that they need to work this out for themselves so Scott and I are staying out of it as much as possible.

The six kids over in quarantine were all squabbling so loudly I finally put my hoe down and had to go over to the window and I told them to knock it off. I think I scared them without meaning to. I just can't stand to listen to that kind of senseless squawking. I reminded them that Ms. Cindy and Ms. Tasha were in the same boat and that they had been sick and didn't need to be running around like crazy any way. If they were good and Waleski gave them a clean bill of health they would be out on the next Rest Day which was just day after tomorrow. That settled them down for a while but I still wondered if the hospital was going to survive the elephant stampede.

And integrating two new men into this whole mix just adds to the challenge. Not that anyone in particular – well, besides Laura – is really causing problems or has behavioral issues; it's just challenging to keep the mix of personalities from getting too frothy.

I spent the first half of my day finishing up the stuff I hadn't completed yesterday. Fun and games it was not. I picked over all the easy stuff to divvy out and put away yesterday. This morning that left me stuck with a bunch of stuff/junk that I was less than sure what to do with. Some of it was just a pile of different pieces of stainless steel shelving, sinks, and other junk that Scott had asked for. I know he wants to start a metal shop so that he can make some blades and I have no idea what all but I told him at lunch time if he wanted it he was going to have to get some guys to move it to a storage container. There was just too much of it and it was too heavy for me to deal with.

The books I just put on the floor in Sanctuary's library for Brandon to put away when he had time. He's been too busy helping with the Wall to do much of that recently and Josephine and Maddie can only do so much. Maddie's face is beginning to heal and she's not quite as depressed about it as she was. Waleski said it is still going to leave a scar but that after it fully heals she can try treating the scar with a topical cream to keep it moist and give it time to fade as much as possible. Josephine's bandages came off for a moment today in a dark room and she could see but it was blurry. The fact that she could at least recognize shapes is promising. Waleski re-bandaged her eyes and he'll check them again in another week. Bandaging will keep her from straining her eyes unnecessarily.

I'm glad I finished when I did because we got a short burst of rain and I was really getting tired of trying to put all of that stuff away. I know I shouldn't feel like that; everything we gather is something we won't have to manufacture ourselves later on. There is just so dat blamed much of it and it feels like no sooner than I get one pile finished that someone dumps something else in my lap. I have next week's run to the fairgrounds to look forward to as well, although this time we'll be bring back some really big items if all goes well.

And to help us out my wonderful and brilliant husband has came up with a wonderful and brilliant plan. The Florida State Fairgrounds are bordered by I4 and US301. A mile south on US301 from the fairgrounds – two miles at most – is a railroad crossing where US301 and Broadway Avenue intersect. If you were to walk that piece of track for about a mile guess where you end up? That's right, in the rail yard we have been using.

Our plan is to haul anything we gather from the fairgrounds down to the tracks at the intersection where there will be a short train of boxcars waiting. We load the box cars full and then transport everything right to the front gate of Sanctuary. I think this is a totally cool deal. It will save us from having to clear obstacles so that a couple of tractor trailers can navigate the roads between Sanctuary and the fairgrounds. It will save on the number of trips we have to make. We won't have to worry about having enough heavy trucks to haul away everything we gather, which would mean a lot more drivers. We can use existing roadways that we already know are clear (and clear of zombies) to get from Sanctuary to the fairgrounds. All of which should speed up the gathering process a great deal.

After the rain let up everything was just wet enough to be nasty to work in. Mr. Morris was grateful for help from Sarah and Bekah. His hand will likely bother him for some time to come. Not having a thumb or forefinger on his left hand will also be limiting even after it heals. I took Johnnie and Bubby to work with me but before I could get out of the gate I had to deal with Sis and Kitty crying because I was leaving again. Kitty is six months old now and definitely knows her own mind. I decided to put the baby back pack on and let her ride and put a kid-leash around Sis so that she couldn't wander off. I used to hate those kid-leashes; I misunderstood and thought people were treating their kids like a pet dog or something. But, I've learned over the years that just about everything has its place and I was certainly glad to have a little extra help keeping Johnnie from darting out and into places he wasn't supposed to go when he was in that crazy stage kids go through when they're two and three years old. We just arbitrarily picked an age for Sis, Rachel helped us average out her age on a pediatric growth chart and we call her three years of age. She's a precocious three year old however and more than once Scott and I have said that she is going to give Johnnie and Bubby a run for their money one of these days.

So walking along like a mother goose with her goslings I went to work planting the herb garden that I've been putting off. The garden I started with was a fifteen foot square. In the very center I put a bird bath with basil and chamomile varieties surrounding it in the form of a circle. On each corner of the square I put "L" shaped beds that had a bunch of different varieties of herbs in them. At the center of three of the straight sides of the square is a three-foot wide walk way. I had found some arches that I put togetogether and then planted some climbing rose bushes to train on them. On the fourth straight side there was also a three-foot wide walk way but I left that one open. On the walkways I had the kids help me lay some of the limestone gravel to keep weeds and mud to a minimum. I supposed I could have put mulch, but the gravel was more practical for what I needed … it was also prettier though I don't know for sure if it will stay that way.

Now, I've saved the best for last. It was getting towards five o'clock when I heard this huge cheer coming from the men working on the Wall extension. I just thought it was that they'd reached a goal faster than expected or something like that. A few minutes later James comes skidding in the Front Gate shouting that Angus was home.

I couldn't just drop the kids and run so I had to wait for him to come though the Gate. Well, it wasn't just Angus; he had company with him, the good kind.

Of course not much else constructive got accomplished the rest of the evening beyond getting everyone fed and the new couple a place to bunk down. I'll really need to write down Angus' story and stick it in this journal but Lordy, I don't know if I could get that kind of excitement to stick to the paper even if I used a permanent marker and gorilla glue. I'll do my best but it'll probably take me a couple of days to get the facts all straight and the timeline in order ... and try and explain why Angus is now wearing kilts with combat boots.

The couple he brought back with him are the remnants of the survivor community that set up at Ft. DeSoto. There are some still there that voted to stay and rebuild but Glenn … Sean is his wife's name … said that fresh water was a constant problem and that except for the old fort itself, the buildings lacked security. What water was available on the island was all brackish and proved deadly to every garden they attempted to get started. And going back and forth to the mainland expended a lot of fuel whether it was done by boat or by road vehicle.

Glenn is about my age, hasn't quite hit forty yet though. He's a blue-eyed blonde Scandinavian looking man that was born in NYC but who was raised in Bradenton, FL making him very familiar with our area. His wife Sean is Thai and is a pocket Venus. She's five foot zero and might weigh 90 pounds if you put plenty of rocks in her pockets; but man, is she a pistol. She had us all rolling when she told us how she had laid a fifth of the pirates low before the battle even started by spiking their stew with Thai hot peppers. They were seriously sweating and trotting and posed no danger to anyone except those that tried to use the outhouses too soon after they had been in there.

Glenn is a US Army Vet and served on a tank crew. Scott said Matlock and Dix are going to talk to him about making a run over to MacDill to see what all might have been left behind. He also has three years into a psychology degree so I'm hoping for a little insight into some behavioral therapy for those that might need it.

They were overseas when NRS started getting crazy. Glenn was a civilian contractor driving supply convoy trucks in Iraq. Luckily Sean was over there with him. When things first started getting out of control they snatched a sixty-foot motor yacht from a marina in Kuwait and loaded it up with fifty-five gallon drums of fuel and headed out to sea.

Sean, sorrowful but realistic, explained that there would have been no way they could have gotten to her family in Thailand despite it being closer. All of Asia became a madhouse even before it was publicized in the media. NRS was so bad that whole villages would cease to exist in just a matter of hours.

It took them weeks to reach the US and they had a couple of near run-ins with ghost ships – passenger liners, cruise ships, and personal crafts that groups of people had tried to escape on only to have the infection follow them on board – and pirates but the yacht they had taken was equipped with basic radar and they avoided trouble when they could. They only had to contend with two major storms, both of which just served to push them closer to their goal.

They first landed in Venice Beach, slowly worked their way north to Sarasota, and then into Bradenton. Glenn couldn't find any of his family so they continued looking for survivor groups but hadn't found anything viable or organized until they beached on Fort DeSoto. They tried to make a go of it there but the pirates just proved to be too much of a hassle and the remaining leadership didn't impress Glenn as it was more of a popularity contest than it was about who was really fit to lead.

So now our population has gone up to 58. We are reaching the lower limit of our total population goal. Technically we could probably take in another 20 people but I'd rather not. A few more yes, but if we go all the way to the 80 person mark right away there won't be any room for natural population growth. As it is we have two babies on the way, Cease and Melody want Matlock to marry them as soon as the Wall is complete and they've got a house fixed up, McElroy and Rhonda want the same thing before Rhonda's baby is born, and Waleski and Rilla look like they are heading that direction fast as well. Hmph! Let those military boys stop in one place too long and they wind up falling in love and getting hitched. Just kidding … sort of.

The welcome back party was getting kind of raucous and close ten PM – much later than we ever stay up any more – so I brought all of the littles inside and told them they'd be able to play with Uncle Angus tomorrow; it was bed time. Boy did that take some convincing and three stories before they'd fall asleep. Hopefully everyone finally coming in for the night won't wake them up again. I've tried to wait up myself but it's going on midnight and I'm drooping. Hopefully I'll be able to get some work finished tomorrow without falling asleep on my hoe handle.


	123. Day 166

Day 166 (Saturday)

Well, I'd say "I told you so" if I didn't feel so sorry for them. Un-aged Moonshine + Celebrating all night = BAAAAAAAD headaches the next day. Bwwaaahahahahahah!

Why am I being so mean? Well, I'm not, not really. I kept coffee going all day and I tried … mostly … to keep the kids quiet. But, there was only so much I could do after Angus gave the kids all the sugary treats he did. Thank goodness he handed over most of them to Betty and I. And too bad we didn't have giant hamster wheels hooked up to a couple of generators so that we could have actually gotten something besides laughs out of the all the energy the kids had. It had been so long since most of them had that kind of junk that it made an even greater impact on their system; and behavior.

I swear I thought Cindy and Tasha were going to scalp Angus because he insisted that the littles that were in quarantine also got some of the candy after Waleski said it wouldn't hurt them. Cindy, in the most exasperated voice I've ever heard her use said, "He couldn't have waited just one more day until we were out of this building?!" I did feel for the two women. Being cooped up with six kids … who were rather ill part of the time … does not make for an easy time.

Mischief and Mayhem have absolutely refused to leave Angus' side all day today. They've tripped him up more times than I can count. And every time he stumbles it rattles his head and that hasn't exactly helped the hangover any.

Needless to say that no real work got done on the Wall today. Not that nothing got accomplished, its just the things that got accomplished didn't require quite so much … noise. They helped Glenn and Saen (pronounced "Saan") pick a house and move their gear into it and let them decide whether they wanted to bunk there or with us until the Wall was completed. Glenn said a tent in the backyard will be better than the accommodations they've had the last couple of weeks. I feel bad that we can't offer them more, I just don't know where we would put them that they'd have any kind of privacy.

Everyone also helped Angus unload the goodies that he brought back in his nifty camper that he made from a garbage truck. I think he must have an affinity for the things. He found a brand spanking new one at a Pinellas County public works garage and has all sorts of ideas for upgrading it. It's not another Juicer, its serves a different purpose all together. It looks like a great people mover in heavy zombie territory.

We've weather tightened all of the houses that have currently been marked off for habitation. Some of the new houses that will be within the new compound boundaries won't be salvageable and Scott has made a map and X'd through all the ones that are suspect that will likely have to be pulled down.

In fact that's what today has been for most folks. It's been a list-making, small-chore-doing, catch-up-on-stuff kind of day. You need that every once in a while.

We had a weird thing happen. Dix said he heard music on one of the regular radio station's call numbers but when he tried to find it again the signal was gone. He said it was around 90 on the FM dial and he could swear it was Walls of the Cave by Phish. What bothers Scott and I is that the call signal for WUSF was 89.7 and that's not far from us. But there was also Tampa radio stations at 88.5, 90.5, 93.3, and 94.9 all close to that signal; it could have been any of those as he was just spinning, looking for noise. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Today I finished up the gardening chores that I didn't complete yesterday and I also put in another fifteen by fifteen garden, but this one for peppers. Scott said as many as I have planted we'll wind up with more peppers than we could ever use. What I'm hoping is that by the time we get over stocked we'll have found a good trade venue for them.

Lots of things that we'd like to do in the near and far term. I've already written about some additions and changes to the Wall that we'd like but that's far from the only thing on our big "to do" list. I mentioned the trading venues, then there are all the different gathering runs we'd like to make. The fairgrounds which is coming on Tuesday. We'd like to go back out to USF and see what we could get there. Waleski says we need to look in all the medical and dental offices around town that we can. Citrus Park Mall area needs to be covered; Scott and I only touched the one store that time. It would be interesting to see what else is still salvageable if anything. The same would be true of the Brandon business area.

I think I've overdone it the last couple of days. I'm feeling pretty well rolled up. Making an early night of it sounds wonderful and that's what I'm going to do. A lot of folks are going fishing tomorrow. It's a Rest Day. I wonder how long people will forget about me and I can hide in bed … nah … ain't gonna happen.

Day 166 (Rest Day)

Lots going on today, but I still haven't managed to get Angus' story all the way out of him. I don't think that man knows what "sit still" means. The other ladies and I were only going to give him a trim and do something about that beard of his which is getting a bit on the wild and scraggly side. He lit out of here like a dog stung by a yellow jacket. Honestly. You'd a thought we were asking him to perform opera naked in public or something. Men. Sometimes I think every one of them has some measure of testosterone poisoning. Scott and James have gotten just as bad about me giving their hair a trim. It doesn't look that bad. Not really. Well, mostly not bad. It would look better if they wouldn't wiggle so much. I only cut Scott's ear that once. It was just a knick; I don't know what he was fussing about so much. And it didn't bleed near as bad as he made out. He only needed the bandaid on it a couple of days.

Bright and early everyone but the people who had volunteered to stand watch went fishing. I stayed home and helped Cindy and Tasha acclimate and get the kids some clothes and other gear out of storage.

Cindy Neiman is a young thirty-something who was still living with her parents when things hit the fan last year. She admitted that she had been too involved with her charities and women's groups and too spoiled by her parents to really had thought much about marriage. She had been working as a Salvation Army volunteer and had also been a Red Cross worker. She said everything fell apart so fast. She was finally able to get a break from the local shelter and went home to change clothes only to find a note from her parents stating they were waiting for her at the marina. She said she felt bad but knew there was nothing left that she could really accomplish by staying at her post so went to find her parents. She made a mistake and walked straight into a boat-jacking. Her elderly parents never stood a chance. The men that had stolen her parents' boat and kidnapped her eventually fell to the pirate overlord Samson and she had been one of the few left of the early survivors. She has no idea why because she certainly wasn't suited for survival in the beginning. After the kids started coming along though it gave her purpose.

Tasha Reingold is a 17-year old high school dropout and was a cashier at a grocery store in Pinellas County. She had survived with a small group of people that had lived in the upper office of the store where she worked until it had been raided by the pirates. That had been two months ago. She told me that if it hadn't been for Cindy she would have committed suicide long ago just to not have to have those men touch her any more.

All of the other women the pirates had taken were either back in Tarpon Springs or had died from exposure or abuse during the Raid. I took them aside and asked them privately if they would like Waleski to help them or something and they said that he had already done all he could do. They were just happy to feel clean for the first time in forever and that for the rest of it they would figure out some way to live with it. The fact that Samson was dead took care of a lot of the fear they had lived with so long.

The kids run the gamut. First is 14 year old Eric Timmons. The only reason he wasn't "culled" with the rest of the teenage boys and men was because he is small for his age and the pirates didn't realize how old he was. He is very protective of Cindy and Tasha and it's a wonder the pirates didn't kill him, he can be just that ferocious. Cindy said that he is the one that stole food and water for them when they were on short rations or were forgotten about all together. He's been fascinated with James and Samuel almost from the beginning and is very eager to prove that, despite his size, he is one of the "older boys." I hope that doesn't get him in trouble.

Elizabeth Charter asked quietly if we would please call her "Liz" and we've all agreed. Cindy said her mother's name was Elizabeth and that it brings painful memories to be called that. Her mother died during a brutal gang rape and Liz was also brutalized by her step-father who "sold" her to the pirates for the safe passage of the group he was with that included his natural-born children. A few days later everyone in that group died when the pirates double crossed them and took their boat and all of their supplies. She was Cindy's shadow and I only knew what I did because Cindy told me. She reminds me of an older version of Jenny in many respects.

Ledo Banks and Davey Davis are both eight years old and boy howdy have they got energy to spare. They're so happy to be free of the pirates I don't think their feet touched the ground until they were so sick from Scarlet Fever they had to lay down or fall down. Davey in particular hates the pirates. He's missing three teeth in front from where Samson smashed him into a door for not bringing his coffee fast enough.

Max Robbins is a dour seven years old. I don't think I've seen him smile once. Not even a tiny little bit. He does what he's told but that's about it. About all Cindy and Tasha know about him is his name as he has been unwilling to share anything with them. His older brother was one of the pirates but apparently there was no connection there, or an abandoned one, and it never served to save Max from any beatings.

Michelle's last name is unknown. She's six but doesn't remember anything else from before the pirates, or the memories are locked away and she refuses to remember anything else. She's a skittish child but not unexpectedly so under the circumstances. She's had no trouble keeping up with Ledo and Davey that's for sure.

It will take some time to integrate the kids in. Scott and I wondered whether we should volunteer to take the kids but Cindy was adamant that she was going to keep the kids. I'll admit to be secretly relieved. I just … it may sound heartless but I have enough on my plate. I just can't handle one more child, at least not right now. I don't have the energy. I don't have the emotional reserves. I don't have the resources. I think Scott wouldn't have minded but I'm just glad we don't have to find out if we had what it took to not only add another six kids to the household, but if we could meet the unique challenges of dealing with kids that are that traumatized. I will give Cindy all the support I can but I'll leave the day-to-day stuff of the new children to her.

Tasha isn't sure what to make of things yet. She had gotten used to the idea of dying at the hands of the pirates eventually and now her future has changed yet again. She is far older than any of the 17 year olds I have ever met in my life.

It didn't take long for everyone to return from the fishing trip. There is the remains of a large church campus near the Geraci place, just east of the corner of Van Dyke Rd and Dale Mabry Hwy. They had several "catch and release" ponds that they kept stocked. They used them with their children's fishing program. You know teach the kids to fish … fishing and "fishers of men." The kids loved it that's for sure and it was a safe family venue, something that had been lacking after the big economic crash.

Mostly they brought back pretty fair sized trout and bass but there were also a couple of catfish in there. It was enough for us to make a nice dinner for everyone although there weren't any leftovers, but leftovers are never our goal since we don't have any refrigeration. Brandon plotted all of the ponds and their locations and they'll keep track of which ponds they fish and when so that they don't become over-fished.

The main dish at dinner was Orange Poached Trout. Then I used up some canned clams that were getting close to their expiration date and made Lemon Clam Fritters. I didn't have anything fresh in the garden yet and no fresh wild green either except for some poke salad greens and you have to parboil those to make them edible. I used some of the other citrus fruit and made Grapefruit Harvard Beets. Then we made a lot of brown rice because we've noticed that some of it is starting to go rancid. That was a pretty depressing discovery I'll admit. I wished for some corn on the cob but that's months away assuming the corn crop makes. Instead I took some canned corn and fried it up over an open fire in a Dutch oven and used some fresh butter than Reba had churned that morning to flavor it up. For dessert we had to use the reflector ovens but we made pinto bean pies, some chili bean fudge, and a couple of pinto bean apple cakes.

The new kids had to be told several times to slow down or they were going to get a stomach ache. They ate like they were afraid someone was going to take it away from them. I'm hoping time will take care of that but it will certainly be a while until they learn to trust us. Our kids and the new kids are feeling each other out, seeing who is "friend material" and who might be someone to be wary of.

Something must have gone on with Tina today. She was up and seemed … in charge I guess you could say. Dante' is still very protective but let me tell you, Laura is stepping pretty ginger. Gone is the make-up. She is wearing modest and age-appropriate clothing. Gone is the gaudy jewelry and ridiculous shoes that were too hard to get any work done in. We'll see how long that lasts and whether Tina can stay in control.

Tomorrow is Wash Day. The mending will also need to be worked on tomorrow. The next day we will go on the Fairgrounds Run.

We've secured the new west Wall and the southwest extension to the existing Wall. The men finished that up today. Tomorrow they begin the big eastern extension. That is what will dramatically increase Sanctuary's acreage; and dramatically increase our work. There are houses that will have to come down because the Big Horde made them no longer structurally sound. There are green spaces and wetlands that we'll have to monitor as well. One of the great things is that the area has an existing horse boarding operation … or it was operating prior to the last riots. All the paddocks, barns, and everything else still seem relatively intact.

Well, I'm off. I've got first watch tonight because everyone is so tired. I don't expect any trouble but I still like to prepare myself mentally for standing guard.


	124. Day 168

Day 168 (Monday, Wash Day)

Today is one of those days when I've felt behind and just unable to keep up, much less catch up.

It started this morning when I realized my calendar was off. I thought yesterday was day 166. I had the day of the week correct but not the calendar day as I had been counting them since August. I was only a day off but I panicked, wondering if I had made other mistakes in my journal. I wasted an hour double checking everything. I didn't find any other mistakes thank goodness but it only highlighted how dependent we used to be on other people telling us what time it was and what date it was and what our schedule was going to be for each day. No wonder the ancients made such a big deal out of their daily and seasonal calendars. We don't even have an Old Farmers' Almanac any longer. Marking time is important.

To be honest I'm not even sure of the exact time any more. I can tell you when a minute or hour passes by, but not for sure what hour it is. We try and keep our clocks in sync but inevitably we are off several minutes on either side of each other. One of my projects is to make a operational sundial. I have the directions and the kids and I have made some simply ones for school projects, but I want to make a large one. Perhaps make in one of our community's centerpieces … decorative but useful.

I skipped breakfast because I had been so worried about my calendar being wrong and that through me off even more. Because of food issues we've had to make a set of pretty stiff rules about when the "kitchen" is open and when it is not. Guards have their meals packed up and brought to them and everyone eats what is on the menu or they don't eat. I decided being hungry was my own fault and that to set a good example for the kids I would need to wait until lunch was served to assuage it. But boy was I ever tempted to drink my can of soda. I'm saving it for a while yet and resisted. Part of me knows my attachment to that soda is silly but another part of me … oh I don't know; it's a symbol but of what I'm not sure.

Today is wash day; not my favorite day of the week. The only thing we really had to wash in our house was our underclothes, wash cloths, and a couple of the dirtiest t-shirts. I've tried to make sure we all get into the habit of hanging our clothes up and letting them air out overnight so that they can be used as long as possible before they have to be cleaned. Scott, David, and James wear Dickey coveralls when they are working and that has really helped save on the washing. This summer is going to be challenging however when we will all sweat so much. I may have to break out my homemade cloth freshener if I can keep the ingredients for it. Next week if there is time I want to strip all the beds and wash all the bed linens; that's really a time consuming job.

I spent part of the day planning and marking off where I will add some gardens in the new compound areas. The men were able to complete the first level on one of the three sides of the eastern Wall extension. In addition they've been taking the second layer off of the original Wall and stacking it as a second layer onto the new Wall that they finished yesterday. Wow. Crazy wow. We are going to have a lot more space when this whole renovation project is complete. But with the renovation will come more work.

All of the new Sanctuarians – try saying that three times fast – are really nice folks. Every one of them has really pitched in with a will, even the kids. Saen is just … wow … her personality is bigger than she is. And she is not afraid to give Glenn what for when she thinks he deserves it. He accidentally let a curse word slip when he stubbed his toe. The man can pretty creative, I'll give him that. Saen on the other hand gave him such a look that would have blistered paint. He must've gotten that "look" on more than one occasion because he immediately told the kids that they shouldn't use those words. It's cute to see such as small woman wield such power. But, for all of that you can tell that Glenn would die for her and is extremely protective of her. And can Saen cook. Oh … my … word. She made this incredible meal with coconut milk that …. There are just no words. I don't think there were two words said for about fifteen or twenty minutes because we were too busy feeding our faces.

I noticed that Chris tended to go off by himself a few times and I asked David to see if things were OK. David's a little older than Chris but not by much and he's really good at putting people at their ease. Well, I needn't have worried. Chris is just getting used to being around people again after being alone so long. And he also has his own faith practices that he is intent on keeping up with. That's something that I can definitely understand. I mentioned it to Scott and he said that he'd noticed Chris fingering a Rosary a couple of times, they looked old so they likely belonged to someone in his family. Maybe one day he'll feel comfortable enough to talk about it. I certainly won't pressure him before he is ready.

And Brian. If that boy's humor gets any drier I'll have to keep a watering can handy. He fits in quite well. He can have a mouth but he's pretty good about watching it around the kids which is a nice change from a lot of the young men his age I used to know. And the boy can put away some food too. These boys … it makes me glad that we've found the extra supplies that we've found. It also makes me worry a bit though about all our gardens. They've just got to come in and we need to harvest a good bounty. It'll break my heart to see our people have to go without and go hungry.

And we have two new people that wandered in after hearing all the racket of the heavy equipment. Well, wandered isn't exactly how it happened. They were actually chased in by a small group of very determined zombies.

Austin Shooter and his girlfriend Sarah were limping along as fast as they could in an old Ford pickup and were down to two wheels and two rims when Dix spotted them. They had one zombie in the bed of the truck but Austin couldn't shake the truck enough to dump it out and it was beating on the back glass pretty hard. Dix had James hop in the bucket of the dozer and lifted him up so he could make better shots and he was able to get the one out of the bed but in the process made Austin double think whether we were friend or foe. Angus said Juicer needed some exercise and started it up and Matlock and McElroy took the Hummer that also needed to be run and they went out to lend a hand. There were over four dozen zombies and some of them were a little on the frisky side.

The friskier zombies are another new variation. We don't know if they are Ragers that are winding down like worn out toys or if this is yet another mutation in the NRS virus. Either way it's a very uncomfortable development.

Austin is definitely a big farm boy, and I mean big in the literal sense. He reminds me of my cousins on Momma's side of the family. He's every bit of 6'1" maybe a little taller, it's hard to tell. All I know for sure is that he is a heck of a lot taller than me. Saen and I just kinda sighed and shrugged our shoulders. Sarah is one of those gorgeously tall Amazon women; she's even taller than Patricia is if you can believe that. I'm guessing she is 5'10" or 5'11". Don't let her looks fool you though, she's very capable; she and Austin both are. Nice thing about this whole situation is we seem to get just what we need when we need it. Austin has a degree in Animal Science, heavy on Beef Production. And all of his training makes him a pretty good vet tech which means he can also do IVs and such on humans. Waleski broke a pencil trying to write that down in his notes so fast. Later this week a group of us are supposed to hit some of the farms and animal facilities in the area to see if we can find any livestock to bring back. If we don't find too many we might head over to Lowry Park Zoo; they had a pretty descent petting zoo with goats, llamas, geese, and some pot-bellied pigs.

Austin and Sarah aren't from around here originally; they had come to Florida to visit Sarah's family over in Titusville. One of the Big Horde came through there like a vengeance and when they were through there wasn't much left. An old guy that had refused to come with them had told them he'd heard a lot of radio chatter from this area early on and still heard the occasional burst if the weather was right. Austin said they had actually heard us yesterday but had gotten blocked in by the zombies during the night. They had hoped the zombies would eventually lose interest during the night but they hadn't and they'd finally be forced to flee from their hiding place when a couple of the zombies broke through the barriers they had tried to erect with what little they were able to find.

Well all's well the end's well and now our population is up to sixty. Assuming all these new folks wind up staying. They seem pretty set to stay but you never know.

A lot of stories were exchanged over the fire tonight. Some sad, some miraculous, some nearly unbelievable except we've all experienced unbelievable things recently. I finally heard more of Angus' story and I hope to get it written out this week. Not tomorrow though. Tomorrow we go on the Fairgrounds Run. Austin and Sarah will be two extra hands for that and they're welcome. Another goodie is that Austin has a lot of mechanical experience … there's that farm boy talent shining through again … and McElroy is very glad to have someone to help him with the antique engines that I told him about. The other men are willing to learn, but it will save time for McElroy not have to teach them what needs to be done just to get things dismantled.

I noticed that David and Rose were sitting next to each other around the bonfire where we were burning off some green wood that wasn't worth trying to save for the cook fires. The fire was smoky but it kept the mosquitoes at bay. Whether they wind up being "more than friends" or just friends, I'm happy to see that they are no longer at odds with one another.

It is such a relief to have the Wall up and intact again. Most everyone has moved back to their houses, if they were habitable. Waleski, Rose, and Melody spent the day cleaning and sanitizing the hospital and Waleski has taken one of the rooms for his temporary digs. Jack and Patricia have made it official and they moved in together though only with the understanding from Waleski that Patricia is to spend most of her time in bed or sitting down; and no sex. Samuel has three places he can stay; with us, with Patricia and Jack, or with Dix over at his place. Brandon wants Maddie and Josephine to live with him at the library until their condition improves and then after that some decisions will have to be made. A 17 year old boy cannot be made responsible for two 16 year old girls, both of whom are injured. Dix offered his place to Cindy, Tasha and the six children so they could all remain together; he is sleeping in the radio shack until the houses in the compound extension become available for use. The Morris families moved back to their place and Betty said, "Not that we haven't been grateful for your hospitality but I sure will be glad to be able turn around without knocking in to someone." I definitely agreed with the sentiment.

Our house is oddly quiet, but it's a comforting kind of quiet. Scott is signaling me that he finally got Johnnie and Bubby to sleep so that's where we are off to ourselves. It's going to be a full day tomorrow.


	125. Day 169

Day 169 (Tuesday, Fairground Run)

Wow! This day has been incredible in so many ways but it's been a really long one and I am tired beyond words. We had a run in with a small horde; gotta love those steel box cars. Met two more families; one came home to Sanctuary with us while the other one was three shades of crazy. We found out where the music was coming from; totally cool story there. Got lots of goodies from the fairgrounds; boy do we have a mess to clean up and put away. Animals, animals, animals; Samuel and my Sarah are in hog heaven … just about literally … and Austin and Mr. Morris are hip deep in brahmas and llamas.

Angus, Jim, Chris, and Brian split off from the group about mid-afternoon and took down a couple of boars and a couple of turkeys to add to our pantry. And James nearly gave me a heart attack when he shot off the head of a moccasin that had been stalking Scott over by the fairgrounds lake. It was so cold today that we had no trouble field dressing the game and getting them home before they spoiled. We gave the offal to Mayhem, Sundance, and Butch. Mischief stayed home. We're not for sure but she might be having pups just a little ways down the road. She was content to stay at the compound near the kitchen. She's hungry all the time lately.

I could go on and on but I'll have to write it all out tomorrow. I lost my footing when we rushed to climb the ladders on the box cars to get away from the horde. My parents should have named me Grace; I'm banged up, split my lip, split my eyebrow, bruised my elbow, and nearly broke my nose. It looks worse than it is but it still ouches so I'm going to try and get some extra rest tonight since I don't have guard duty.

Tomorrow promises to be another full day. We'll be putting away the bounty from the fairgrounds and then we're going … well, I'm tired so I'll just finish that thought tomorrow as well. Suffice it to say that all of the new friends we've made today are going to be a blessing in more ways that one.

I've had Enrique Morente's nuevo flamenco running through my head all afternoon. What a thing to try and go to sleep by. That's a story in and of itself.


	126. Day 170 (part 1)

**Author's Note:** First, I'd like to thank everyone for reading and especially say thank you to those that have taken the time to leave a review. Great motivation to keep going. Secondly, Day 170 is quite long so I've cut it down into parts. I'll post half today and half tomorrow. And without further ado ... back to the story.

* * *

 **Day 170 (Wednesday) - part 1**

Well, I've got a great sunset in the making on my face. It feels like I might have chipped a molar too. Now that totally blows. Dental issues are one of the few things we haven't had to deal with up to this point. It's just a small chip, but still.

I guess the best place to start would be yesterday morning. We fixed breakfast burritos and everyone dressed them the way they wanted them. Everyone got an orange to eat, coffee or tea to get them revved and warmed up 'cause it was doggone cold, and we divided portable lunch foods between everyone's packs. There was a pile of us going this time around.

It's probably easier to list the people who stayed behind rather than the ones that went. Dix stayed in camp because McElroy was needed to dismantle the stuff at the fairgrounds. All the children under nine stayed. Eric and Liz, both of whom are 14, could have gone but Waleski was worried about them trying to do too much after having Scarlet Fever and all the depredations they had suffered at the hands of the pirates. Waleski also stayed but insisted that both Rose and Melody go because they had not left Sanctuary in so long. He did give them a list of things to be on the lookout for however. Rhonda and Patricia stayed of course as did Josephine and Maddy. Jack stayed as did Dante' and Tina. Laura was sent with an admonition that there had better not be any problems of any kind. Cindy stayed but Tasha went. Becky stayed because Jenny had come down with a bad cold that had a fever with it. Waleski thought at first that maybe the Scarlet Fever had escaped quarantine but so far no rash and she's had a fever for two days now. The rest of us all piled into the boxcars that we had left on the track.

The Hummer, the F350, and two large trailers had also been loaded onto two of the flatbed rail cars the previous day. These would become our people and supply movers from the intersection of Broadway and US301 to and from the fairgrounds. We also had ramps and a couple of little Bobcats to help with loading as needed. And one of the boxcars was filled with sacks, boxes, tubs, wagons, and wheelbarrows.

We had the same problems going this time as we did last. Several people got motion sickness. Truthfully I didn't enjoy the rocking motion of the box car either but I gradually got used to it. And it sure was quicker to get where we were going. I'm glad it was quicker because it was cold. I may have mentioned that a time or two but dang it, this is Florida. It wasn't just a nice little cold snap, I don't think it got out of the low 50s yesterday. Ick. And how on God's green earth Angus put up with that kilt … brrrrrr … just the thought of having cold air blowing up my skirts makes me shudder. The man wasn't even wearing a coat. I swear he deserves to get sick for being so crazy but with his luck he won't even get a sniffle. The rest of us had the sense to wear coats and most of us even had hats and scarves on. No matter how I fussed and clucked James would only wear a baseball cap and fingerless gloves because anything else impaired his shooting. I was grateful for his stubbornness later on.

What could have easily taken two or more hours to navigate by road took us less than an hour by rail. We were careful to watch for signs of tampering with the tracks but everything was clear all the way to Broadway. That was a relief I can tell you. We had contingency plans but it would have put us behind at least a day or two.

It took a few minutes to unload the equipment. It took longer to navigate up US301 to the fairground gates. However, once we got to the gates the fairground itself was strangely devoid of any stalled vehicles. Oh, there was damage here and there but not near as much as we had expected. Silence ruled, but not ruin.

Cracker Country was our first goal. Its right on the eastern edge of the grounds so rather than going through the front gates and turn stiles to get to the regular entrance – what amounts to the long way around – we jumped the fence from the parking lot coming into the area between the Governor's Inn and the replica Train Depot.

I was very surprised at how trimmed the ground looked in most places until I heard the distant "nay" of horses (and it turns out a couple of mules) as well as the "blat" and "baa" of goats. Later in the day we ran into other animals that had escaped their boarding and gone feral.

We broke down into smaller groups with a good handful of the men and boys heading off to the working antique engine display while the rest of us started cruising Cracker Country for salvageable items. Most of what was on display in the train depot and inn was just that, for display purposes only. But we found some candle making supplies in the candle shed. Super bonus is that the supplies contained numerous one pound blocks and sheets of natural bees wax. Some of it has obviously melted and then reformed but it was still good. There were lots of wicking and molds as well as a working set of "dipping racks."

Carlton House was another "display" set up but we still grabbed some of the stuff in there. If it doesn't hold up to use then we can use it for decoration or something. Unfortunately there was nothing left of the garden and nothing left in the corn crib. If there had been the animals probably got it long ago.

It was about that time that Samuel came running asking if my Sarah could give him a hand. I was rather taken aback. First, he'd been avoiding Sarah since last week. Secondly, I couldn't imagine what he would need help with from Sarah until he pulled this little piglet out of his coat pocket. Boy when it was being handled it started squealing up a storm so Samuel stuck him back in the pocket which shut him straight up. He said that Scott had given permission for Sarah to come help catch the animals and get them ready for transport so long as I said it was OK. I agreed so long as she stuck with Samuel and neither one of them got out of sight. I tell you those two probably had more fun than anyone else yesterday. They chased chickens, geese, goats, llamas (and yes, Samuel got spat on), pigs, and even brought home a couple of gopher tortoises which they put out in the orange grove.

While they played Wild Kingdom it did come to mind that there used to be a bear and panther display nearby but I remembered just in time to avoid panic that they were only there during the State Fair. Thank goodness.

The blacksmith shop yielded a few things but not as many as I had hoped. I kind of remember some of the stations being manned by independent artisans and craftsmen. They probably brought their own equipment to work with when they were operating the displays.

The General Store had us going gangbusters. This was a fundraising enterprise for Cracker Country. Some of the stuff was touristy junk … like the pencil sharpener miniatures that were shaped like pioneer implements … but there was some cool stuff in there too. There were real quill pens, pioneer toys, products made of honey, sunbonnets and aprons, quilts, cast iron cookware, speckleware cookware, etc. But where I really went crazy was in the small bookstore. I grabbed all of the Bear Wallow books whether I had them or not. I figured I would divide them up with a full set going in the library and then a full set to every Sanctuary household that wanted one. There were lots of other pioneer "how too" books and biographies of early Florida that I'm sure will come to some good use. There were books on Florida flora and fauna; scads of other useful books and writing supplies too. In the back administrative area we grabbed our first, but not last, wood burning stove.

We grabbed another wood stove from the school house replica, and yet another two from the Terry Store replica and the church building. At the Smith House display we grabbed … trumpets please … a wood burning cook stove. Halleluiah!

It was after this that we had to get creative. I was desperate to have the syrup kettle set up and the cane mill. We got it before the day was out, but not without some elbow grease. I just hope we can reassemble it so that it works. The engine-powered grist mill was another challenge that we eventually solved. McElroy had to sketch it out before he and the men dismantled it and he put tags on each piece that he numbered to correspond with his sketch. He was just as careful with the old diesel and steam engines. I'm hoping that those things work but Holy Moly are they noisy.

The printing press from the Print Shop and Post Office was a little easier to move though it too was heavy as all get out. What we had to be careful of was to make sure none of the little letters and stuff that go with the press were dropped along the way out of the trays they fit in. Brandon took charge of this project and I could see the plans rolling around in his head. Now all he needs is to locate the right kind of ink. We already had huge reams of paper that had been left under the counter in the same office.


	127. Day 170 (part 2)

**Day 170 (part 2)**

It really didn't take us long to go through Cracker Country and gather or mark off everything we wanted to take home with us. With that number of people we practically had a group for each building. In not much more than an hour we were ready to branch out into the rest of the fairgrounds.

Right before we did however I realized that though we'd been joking about the odor that was coming from the restrooms there shouldn't have been any such odor this long past any kind of human activity in the area. You know how it goes, you don't have to go to the bathroom until you find out there is no bathroom to go to … then you have to go worse than you ever have. Ironic.

Sure enough a couple of zombies were in there but … geez … I'd never seen any quite so decomposed before. Scott had come to see if we were ready to take off into the grounds while another group took our first round of supplies back to the boxcars and relieve the team that was left there to watch. He, Angus, and Jim dispatched the zombies using Scott's awl and hammer technique. It was gross. Not the method but the zombies themselves. Most of the soft tissue had rotted leaving just barely enough muscle and connective tissue that the zombies could wallow around like some diseased ground worms. It was just … I don't think I can even describe how horrifying and pathetic it was.

We talked about it some during the day and we figure that somehow the zombies got shut into the restroom. Even clean restrooms have bacteria in them. The heat and humidity that Florida experiences 95% of the year combined with their trapped state likely gave the bacteria a good hold on the corpses. The dead flies littering the bathroom floor that crunched under the men's feet as they sanitized the zombies also was part of the reason the zombies were so decomposed. Maggots thrive on dead flesh. It's also given us a little hope that eventually the greater majority of the zombies will eventually just disintegrate into non-threats that can be sanitized and disposed of with much less risk of contamination.

But hope is not a plan. Raising our guard up a notch now that we have proof that there are zombies likely on the fairgrounds we headed over to the Expo Hall. And that's where we met the crazy family.

We had to cut off some seriously heavy duty chains to get in to see if there was anything worth salvaging. The Expo Hall is about 88,000 square feet in floor space. Or at least that is the figure on the fairground's brochure that I picked up from where it lay on the floor. It was where a lot of the gun shows that came to Tampa were held. Unfortunately for us that wasn't the event in progress back in August when things had broken down. It was an arts-and-crafts fair. The wares of the different booths didn't look like they had been disturbed since they had been abandoned. A thin layer of dust lay on everything. It was really eerie. But we've dealt with eerie before; heck we've dealt with way worse than eerie.

We divided up into several major groups. One group scavenged through the food concession areas. One group went through the bathrooms and maintenance closets. The rest of us started hauling butt up and down the display aisles throwing odds and ends in the wagons that we pulled. As much as I would like to say that we got a lot of really useful stuff from the booths the truth is that it was a bunch of frou-frou. There was some handcrafted furniture, some dressed up clothes and hats, and some semi-useful odds and ends but what was of more use was the craft people's supplies and tools that had been left behind.

Our people that took the food concessions and bathrooms had better luck. There were some snack foods, condiments, paper products, cleaning stuff, and more similar to what we pulled from Ybor City.

After I had gotten over the disappointment of no canned soda, only syrup in canisters, I turned to see Cease running up to me and asking if I would please come outside. All I could think was that Sarah and Samuel had run into some trouble. I followed Cease at a jog and out the door only to stop so quick I slid in the gravel and nearly lost my dignity.

Standing before me were some of the oddest people I've ever seen. There was a man who was probably in his early thirties at most, two women one of whom was pregnant, and a teenage girl and two young children. I was then formerly introduced to Alfred the Second of Seffner, his two consorts, the Princess, and their two young subjects.

It took everything I had to keep my jaw from hitting the ground. See it wasn't just being introduced to "royalty" but that "King Al" as he preferred to be addressed, was wearing the most amazing conglomeration of clothing I think I have ever seen. The closest I think I can come to describing him is a Highland Drag Queen who laced his morning java with LSD. On his head was a plastic crown that must have come from some Mardis Gras costume box. All of his jewerly he wore however looked real and there was a lot of it. He wore a wig … I think it was a wig anyway … of Shirley Temple curls; only instead of blonde they were green. He wore his royal make-up like like a football player; black and under his eyes. Then he wore some black muumuu type dress cinched at the waist by a wide belt that had shotgun shells all the way around it. On top of the muumuu he wore a khaki hunters vest with a gazillion pockets. Each pocket was labeled with a number. Then came these skinny, hairy legs encased in women's fur-lined, high-heeled boots. He topped the whole outfit off with enough weapons to give Pancho Villa indigestion.

Two of King Al's consorts were dressed nearly as bizarrely only in the opposite direction. One was dressed as a male pirate and the other was dressed in a tux complete with cummerbund and ascot carrying a very ornate walking stick. The third one, the teenager, was dressed urban tough but fairly normal considering the day and times we are living in. The two little kids could have easily passed for any of our own.

In a bored drawl and with very affected hand motions King Al said, "Charlie dear, please deal with these ruffians. Our kingdom does not need any more of the rabble running about."

As I waited to see who Charlie was King Al wandered over to a bench an lay down upon it. The two strange women began fawning on him. That left the teenager.

I looked at Matlock, silently asking why in the heck he asked me out here. When he glanced at the two young children I knew.

"Hi, I'm Charlene. Don't worry about Al. We've run out of his meds again. He's harmless when he's crazy."

That's a heck of an introduction. There was no way I could top that so I asked, "Are you and the kids OK? "

"Oh sure. Seriously. Al is my brother. He may be crazy but he takes care of us. Where are y'all from?"

Trying really hard to not say something that could kill the calm tone of the conversation I replied, "Hmm? Oh, another part of town. Are you really sure you all are OK?"

Charlene smiled and laughed like she was very used to getting that reaction. "Oh, yeah. We really are. Al has PTSD and goes off his rocker every once in a while when we can't find his meds. I don't remember him any other way so I'm used to it. He can kind of turn other people off though. These are his kids and the lady in the tux is his wife. She's crazier than Al is but is a real sweety. Hey, did y'all find any food in the Expo by any chance?"

I just looked at Matlock and he asked, "What are you looking for?"

"Vegan stuff. Al is on a vegan kick this time around. I'm getting totally tired of eating rabbit food though. I am needing some junk food for sure."

From the bench King Al shouted, "Oh no you don't young lady. Junk food is very, very bad for you. It gives you zits and just leaves you hungry for more. I told King Al the First that I'd look after you Little Princess and that's exactly how it's going to be."

Who would have thought? There was a real man under all the crazy. You could see him peaking every once in a while if you watched closely.

"Aw Al. Geez."

King Al arose is all his majesty and wandered back over. "Hmmm. I suppose I must be magnanimous though it is rather fatiguing. There is another group of you norms over by the stables. You might want to hook up and find a place to hold up because we are due the next flood of dead heads around 3 o'clock."

"Dead heads?"

Charlene explained because King Al had lost his grip on reality again and had begun to wander away. "Dead heads are what we call the infected people. And you'd do good to listen to Al. I don't know how he does it but he always knows when we're due for another bunch of dead heads to come through. You've only got a couple of hours to gather up and head out. Nice meeting you folks but it looks like Al is ready to go. See you later maybe."

With that she ran off, towing the kids behind her, to catch up with King Albert II and his consorts.


	128. Day 170 (part 3)

**Day 170 (part 3)**

Matlock looked about ready to burst. He has a truly odd sense of the ridiculous at the best of times. "Well, on King Al's recommendation I say that we plan on being out of here by 3 pm."

"But that was the plan any way, right?" asked Cease confused.

We all just sort of shook our heads. Scott went over to lift the crates of chickens and young pigs that Sarah and Samuel had managed to capture. He was on his second load when James suddenly pulls his pistol and shoots right between Scott's feet.

You talk about some fancy dancing and cussing, but Scott managed to hold on to the pigs. I was just about to lay into James and ask him if he had caught the crazies from King Al when Scott kicked the headless carcass of a water moccasin away from himself.

I'm not partial to snakes. I'll admit it. But there are very few animals that I actually fear on this planet. Water moccasins are one of them though. When I was little and on a fishing trip with my parents one fell into our John boat when we got too near a little island. I never will forget my dad falling overboard was the snake came after him and my mom grabbing me by the collar and heading for the other end of the boat while she tried to whack it with a paddle. Daddy was able to climb back in and kill it but the situation definitely left an impression on my young psyche. Moccasins are one of the few snakes that will stalk a person just like prey.

With that little encounter we were all much careful where we put our feet and hands. It was then that some of the men decided to head back to the Lykes Arena and the equestrian center to see if King Al was telling the truth about there being some "norms" back there. They also intended to see if they could catch some of the horses they'd heard and maybe do some hunting. Brian swore he heard turkeys and I didn't doubt him. It was the time of year for them.

You know it's not often you meet people as … interesting … as King Al and his entourage. It's been over a day since our brief encounter and I still find my thoughts going back to them at the oddest times. I keep wondering how they're doing, whether they were able to avoid the horde, and whether they've found some meds for the king. Al's psychosis is a harmless one, at least according to his little sister. It doesn't impede his ability to function, at least not in today's world. It probably impeded the heck out of his functioning last year. It makes me wonder how many other people like Al are wandering around. It makes me think of my mother. She couldn't function without her meds. Her serotonin levels were just too wacked out; her brain was completely dependent on the medication to regulate its chemistry. On her meds you'd never know that she was fragile or that it had taken her months of behavioral therapy in order to maintain even most basic daily living skills. Now after years of living with it, she had her routine and knew her triggers and how to avoid them. Off her meds … she was a mess and she knew it, she just couldn't do anything about it. One of the worries my parents always had was losing the ability to get the medications they literally needed to survive.

How many people are there out there still living like that? Will we run into any more like Al and his "consorts"? If we do, will they be harmless, helpless, or will they be violent and vicious? What do we do if it does occur? Having dealt with the challenges with my mom I'm sympathetic to people who live with these types of conditions day in and day out; but it also makes me aware that you can only do so much and after that you either have to be able to live with the other person as they are or you have to let go and move along without them. No longer do we have the luxury of being able to find professional help. We're it. Families and family-like groups will be it. Mental illness, brain injuries, mental challenges that involve a lack of social and interpersonal skills, brain illnesses like Alzheimer's; how will we meet the challenges of caring for individuals like that in this world we now live in? The medications are gone or soon will be. The likelihood of poor choices leading to death is much higher these days than they used to be. It's just one of the many things that prey on my mind.


	129. Day 170 (part 4)

**Day 170 (part 4)**

King Al and his entourage aren't the only new people we met yesterday. After the men had gone off to check over at the equestrian arena of the fairgrounds I heard a few gunshots. I put it down to the hunting they said they were going to do or maybe the stray zombie or two. Actually they walked into something a little more on the wild-side than that.

They had spotted some likely animals – horses, llamas, etc. – to try and gather up that had continued to hang out in the stable and arena area even after their people had never returned. The only problem was that they were being menaced by a pack of dogs. We had already experienced the problems associated with so many domesticate animals being abandoned. Dogs were a nuisance predator (as were cats) and we were always careful to be on the lookout for them when we were outside the Wall. This pack was made up mainly of scraggly, under nourished mutts and not the more dangerous guard dogs. You do not want to be unarmed around a bunch of guard dogs gone wild pack.

Eventually the men were able to kill the most aggressive of the pack and drove the rest off. Our dogs did their share as well though I worry about them getting in these kinds of fights with animals. Rabies and all sorts of other diseases could affect them this way. Both dogs and men returned revved up with their success. In the process they had also taken some animals for food that had been hurt in the attack. One boar and sow that had been trying to evade the pack had banged themselves up so bad that Angus and Jim put them out of their misery and took them as game and the other men took some turkeys that had been flushed from the overgrowth.

The turkeys weren't the only thing to get flushed out however. We've got another family that has joined us. Lee and Anne, along with their children – are originally from Pennsylvania like Angus but their story is much more roundabout. Anne is in her late 20s and Lee the same or so close to it that it doesn't matter; their children are Ella who is eight years old and Ray who is three. Lee was an airplane mechanic and had to move his family out to Oregon for work a few years back. When things started getting crazy he tried to get his family back to Pennsylvania using his airline connections. Well, they got seats on one of the last flights to make it into the air. The only problem was the flight wasn't a direct one. They were to land at the Atlanta hub, re-fuel, and then take off to Philadelphia. Didn't happen the way they planned it. Atlanta was already crazy by the time they were to land and they were pushed off to the nearest airport that could take them in; that was Jacksonville, FL after Savannah, GA refused them.

They were on fumes and were forced to make a rough emergency landing. The tail section broke off and they skidded into the planes that were stacked up all along the runway. Their plane didn't catch fire because it was devoid of fuel but the planes hit by the tail section did. As a matter of fact, a couple of them just exploded.

It was only Lee's familiarity with planes that kept them safe and able to navigate through the resulting chaos. Of course with the crash came NRS infected corpses. Anne told me it wasn't quite as bad as Flight of the Living Dead but it was close. They hid out in Jacksonville trying to find a way to get back to PA but the borders slammed shut before they were able to cross. Then the riots broke out and the food ran out in the city. Lee commandeered a car from one of the rental companies at the airport and they took off for Orlando to see if they could get a flight out of there. No one realized yet that there would not be any more commercial airline flights for the foreseeable future.

It didn't take Orlando long to hit the meltdown stage. They practically drove into it and struggled with being in unfamiliar territory with no maps. After Orlando they simply moved along I4 and 574 when they could. Their family had been trying to avoid a large horde and some small raider groups when they finally made it through Brandong and into Tampa to see if there was anything operating out of the Tampa International Airport (TIA). They were shocked by what they found. Lee said TIA was a ruin; what isn't burnt to the ground looks like it might as well be. There's not enough left to even salvage. We dropped that site to the bottom of our gathering run list.

The pleading look from McElroy prompted Matlock to have a private talk with Lee. The other new men offered McElroy more help with mechanical issues, but here was a man who literally was trained to be a mechanic. The result was that they were invited to Sanctuary and now we number 64. Ella and Ray fit in with the rest of our monkeys quite well. In fact they were so thrilled to finally find some kids to play with that Anne had a difficult time getting them to go to bed in the house they had chosen to call their new home. I know Anne is desperate for news of her family up north but I think both she and Lee are pretty realistic about their chances and are just seeking a little closure.


	130. Day 170 (part 5)

**Day 170 (part 5)**

For the next couple of hours we quickly went through the rest of the fairgrounds grabbing anything that looked likely to be useful. All of the bathrooms had cabinets with supplies in them; cleaning and paper products. The "green" exhibit had some solar panels that we gathered. The administrative offices had what you would expect to find in that type of setting … paper, pens, pencils, batteries, and lots of other odds and ends. We grabbed the various animal supplies and what little feed and hay remained as well. Luckily we didn't bring back any rats with us; there were plenty of them on the grounds though. A lot of stuff was getting ruined by their gnawing. Rat feces was everywhere too which was very gross and I finally asked everyone to wear face masks in addition to their gloves. Rat feces … that's just plain nasty.

We all ate on the move, even the tweens. I made pretzels and everyone really enjoyed that surprise of the soft treats. We also had the standard trail mix, cheese and sausage sticks and a few other odds and ends. I'm glad I had extra that we could share with Anne and Lee. And they shared what they had with us, mostly beef jerky, canned fruit, and crackers that we just this side of stale.

As the last few groups of us started out on one last round of the fairgrounds Matlock began organizing taking everything we had gathered, including the animals, to the intersection where the train and boxcars were waiting. I suppose I forgot to mention that we had picked up another engine so that we had an engine on both ends instead of an engine and caboose. This was so that we didn't have to turn the boxcars around. We did this when it became apparent that we wouldn't be able to find a turn around point at Sanctuary because the tracks being destroyed by fire not too far north of our location and driving backwards was just to problematic for our inexperienced engineers.

It was about 2:30-ish when the hummer and F350 came tearing back to pick the last of the gathered items as well as the rest of us that were in the last load. A small horde of zombies had been spotted and we needed to get to the train ASAP.

Oh glory, you talk about picking 'em up and putting 'em down. We moved just about as fast as we've ever done. The memories of the Big Horde still run fresh in all of our minds. I'll admit to the taste of panic creeping up my throat like acid reflux. I was honestly scared; not the most constructive emotion under the circumstances but looking back it has made me realize that I'm stuffing the pain and memories of being stuck in the attic too far down. If I don't deal with them they may come back around and do their best to destroy me one of these days. But that moment wasn't the time to do any personal psychoanalyzing.

There wasn't that many boxes and bags left to haul and everyone already had something in their hands. The stuff went flying into the trailers as quickly as people threw themselves in there. The drivers of the F350 and the Hummer - I think it was Jim and Brian but I can't honestly say for sure - flew through the gates and out onto US301 at the highest speed they could safely maintain. But once out onto US301 it was slow, slow, slow; too slow. We wove in and out of traffic getting closer to the train but not fast enough.

I looked back and the horde numbered between a hundred and a hundred and fifty strong. That was nowhere near the number of the Big Horde, but we weren't behind the safety of the Wall either. Thank goodness we had sent the tweens and most everyone else on ahead with the next to last load. Not that I'd wished the circumstances on anyone in my place, but I kept wondering why did I insist on checking through the administrative offices one more time? So what if I grabbed a couple of boxes of stuff that was missed. Office supplies were not worth my life.

Just then the trailer that was being pulled by the F350 in front of us lost both tires on the right side of the trailer. I don't know what they ran over but it was pretty bad. Luckily the F350 has a lot of pull and just kept going. By the time it slammed up the ramp and onto the flat rail car the rims were bent beyond repair.

Everyone had been moved to the top of the box cars. Everyone that had a gun – which meant everyone in the group – was firing back over our heads at the approaching horde. There wasn't time for the hummer to get up the ramp and it jerked to a halt and everyone swarmed out and to the ladders to follow the rest of our crew to the only safety we had.

These zombies weren't shamblers. They weren't Ragers either which (what a blessing that was) but they moved too quick for my comfort. They were another example of how the NRS virus seemed to be mutating or reacting differently in different groups for some reason. I just hoped there were none of those freaky climbers. Our luck held until nearly everyone was up the ladders.

Our shooters were doing their best to cut the number of zombies down but after the infected got so close I started to worry about being a casualty of friendly fire as much as I worried about being bitten.

The men kept trying to put all the women up first. I wasn't complaining. There is a place for feminism but in the middle of a zombie horde isn't one of them. I wanted to get up that dat gum ladder as bad as anyone. Every time I tried to get to the ladder a zombie would come too close and I would use the machete and lop off a body part … head preferably, but I wasn't picky so long as it kept said body part from touching me. As I was lopping, someone else would be pushed up the ladder. I didn't blame them one bit. It would have been stupid just to stand there and no one going up the ladder.

There was a lot of screaming and shouting. Not all of it made sense but I do remember distinctly hearing the voices of my kids calling, "Mom!" on more than one occasion. Worse I could hear Scott calling my name. I had to block them out as I was afraid of getting distracted.

I finally managed to get back to one of the ladders. Angus had gotten down and was doing his Odin routine with his shelaleigh and I ducked under his arm just in time to get back splashed by the goo flying off a solid hit on a zombie dressed in a business suit . The song I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair from the movie "South Pacific" started making an inappropriate run through my mind.

I made it up about six rungs before my foot slipped. I was going up so fast that my feet were taking the next step before my hands had a good hold. That was a mistake. Despite the ladder being really closely attached to the boxcar I still managed to partially wedge my boot in sideways which threw my whole body weight off kilter. I tried to put my other boot back on a rung but I had no traction. Down I went, hitting my face on the ladder pretty hard. I'm doggone lucky I didn't do more damage than I did. The thing that probably saved me was that Scott and David had been leaning over the side to grab me and pull me up and they grabbed my coat and Angus had been right behind me. I was basically suspended for a couple of seconds until I could plant my feet more firmly.

Nearly didn't have time for that. Angus was the last one up on our box car and pushed me just about as fast as Scott and David pulled. Good thing too as the pain of my nose was bad and it was gooshing blood pretty solid. After I came up and over the edge I just laid there for a few seconds. I don't know if I could have shot straight had I wanted to.

Then on top of everything else I nearly swallowed my heart when I saw James take a running leap from the box car we were on to the next one down. Our luck had run out; there were at least a dozen climbers in what was left of the horde. At that point the only ones that had made it off the ground were on the east-facing engine. James and Matlock were picking them off as best they could without damaging anything vital to the workings.

Then I heard my Sarah shriek in terror. Oh buddy, nothing like hearing your child scream like that to bring you to full attention whether you are ready to be or not. Samuel grabbed her and pulled her backwards just as David grabbed them both and pulled. A climber was coming up over the edge and the hag wasn't using the ladder.

Whack! Down went my machete and the dead climber lost her hands. It took Scott a couple of kicks to dislodge them and send them over the side with the zombie. I really pray that the NRS hasn't started turning the zombies into flies that can cling to vertical sides. That would seriously undermine the protection the Wall gives us. I'm hoping that since the zombie has no pain receptors that it just found hand holds that a functioning human wouldn't have been able to take advantage of.

We used up a lot of ammo but we eventually managed to kill or completely incapacitate every zombie in the horde. When the last one went down all we could do was sit there and shiver; both from the cold and from reaction. Matlock later said that the battle, such as it was, didn't last but about 30 minutes. It seemed longer at the time but I guess he is correct. Adrenaline stretches things like that out in your mind. That can be both blessing and curse.

My face is still sore, but I'm more embarrassed now that the danger has passed. It figures that I would be the only one to get hurt. But I guess, if I really think about it, it isn't too awful a price to pay. If I was the only one hurt, and just some minor dings at that, then I'll take it.

The one grief I do have is that my glasses got scratched. Not on the bifocal part thank goodness; but on the outside edge of my periphery vision and it is annoyingly distracting. I have two other pairs with my current prescription but I think I'll start looking through all of the magnifying reading glasses that we have to see if I can get a back up pair for my back up pairs. I shudder to think what my life, and value of what I could contribute to our community, will be if I ever get to where I can't see at all. Unless we get visited by the optometrist fairy I'm stuck dealing with things the best way I can. We all are. Scott and I aren't the only ones that wear glasses.


	131. Day 170 (part 6)

I came out of my reverie when Matlock started hustling us to move it and get the last of our goods and equipment loaded. The F350 and its trailer hadn't taken any damage beyond what the trailer had already suffered. The hummer lost a window and had a dented panel but nothing major and it was quickly loaded onto its flat rail car. You could hardly tell the damage was new when compared to all of the other dents, dings, and scratches the vehicle had suffered over the last several months.

The kids gathered up the boxes and bags that had amazingly remained intact and loaded them into one of the box cars. Everyone was gingerly stepping around the sanitized corpses and every once in a while I would hear someone fighting the heaves. The smell of a horde is worse than a slaughter yard. The smell of a sanitized horde is even worse; delayed decomposition gets revved up almost immediately and rancid fluids and gasses really give off some serious stink. We double checked to make sure we didn't have any hitch hikers the McElroy started up the home-bound engine and got it warmed up as we all settled in for the return trip.

The ride back to Sanctuary wasn't exactly restful but at least we didn't have to deal with any more zombies. I'm relieved that kind of excitement isn't always a daily happening any more. Oh sure, we sanitize at least a few zombies every day - they are almost commonplace to the point of not mentioning them - but we hadn't had to deal with a good sized horde since the Big Horde. We know that can't last. We are still preparing for the potential return of the Big Horde, or some incarnation of it. This time however we will be better prepared and some surprises will await the undead; at least we hope we have time for to set things up.

We pulled into Sanctuary and every one of us was bone weary, but we had stuff to unpack and secure and a new family to introduce and find sleeping accommodations for. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dix talking animatedly to Matlock. Matlock in turn got excited as well. I heard, "Hot damn!" but was then distracted by the littles all crowding around welcoming us home.

I looked at Scott who had also noticed the interplay between Dix and Matlock. We looked at each other over the top of the kids' heads. There was just something about a smiling and openly jovial Dixon that gave us a very uncomfortable feeling that things hadn't been any more boring here than they had been for those of us who went out gathering.

While the kids and most of the adults helped unload the box cars and stack stuff in semi logical piles to be put away the next day, word began to circulate that Dix had managed to make contact with the mysterious radio operator with the eclectic taste in music. He had taken over WUSF and was interested in meeting. Dix had arranged a meeting on neutral ground the next day. I hadn't expected to be part of that contingent but life is full of interesting twists and turns. Take the family that has just joined our merry band for instance.

Let me tell you, that little Ray is going to fit in just fine with Johnnie and Bubby. What a pistol. Both of Anne's kids acted like they had been released from prison. I can imagine running around with Sanctuary's troop of human monkeys was probably as good as Christmas after all they've been through. Anne and Lee both looked like it was a relief just to be able to sit and drink a sip of something warm while the kids horse-played. I love my kids but I know for a fact being cooped up with them for days and days on end with no relief, not to mention the stress and worry of everything going on, has driven me to the brink. That night was likely the first time in months Anne and Lee had been able to allow their kids more than a few feet away from them.

Anne and Lee were both hesitant but in the end agreed to let some of the older girls watch their kids while they were shown around to the available houses. When they would have settled on a three bedroom Scott encouraged them to consider one of the four bedrooms with a double garage a little further off the main road. He said, "Not that I'm trying to push y'all away but … well … you aren't that old. You've got two now but considering things being what they are, it's not impossible you might wind up with more. " I laughed at the look on Lee's face and laughed harder still when Anne elbowed him in the side for standing there with his mouth open.

Later that night after dinner, after every one settled down, and after a little private time of our own, Scott laughed like he'd thought of funny joke. When I asked him what the punch line was he gave me another good hard kiss and said, "If the women of Sanctuary get any spicier us men are going to have to watch out for sure."

That resulted in a tickle battle and some pillow throwing that nearly woke up the kids. It came to an abrupt halt however when I accidentally banged my nose again. Scott helped me stop the bleeding and then we started giggling again at what a sight we would have made had anyone been peeking. I'm still a mess; I look like I've been in a brawl. Scott is bumped and banged up pretty good too just from working. I try and imagine what I would have thought if my younger self had been able to see where I was going to wind up. Doubt I would have believed even if it was St. Paul himself trying to tell me. Some days I think about what I would have done different had I known what was coming. All sorts of things that are too late to do anything about now but the one solid, for sure thing I wouldn't change is that I married Scott. For richer, for poorer, in sickness, in health, nothing and no one will ever change the ties that bind us … not even zombies or death will change that.

The next morning, or I guess I should say today, I was awoken by Scott's cold hands as he crawled in bed. He had just come off watch at 5 AM and I was at first miffed that I had overslept. He said that Matlock and Dix had said to let everyone sleep, especially the kids, if they didn't need to be up and about. Today was even colder than yesterday with frost on the ground.

January is always the coldest month for Florida and we had been extremely lucky in avoiding any frosts up to this point. I was pretty upset, thinking of the fruit and stuff that I was likely to have lost. Then I remembered that Bekah, right before we all went to bed, told me that she and the other kids had, at the insistence of Patricia and with Betty's guidance, picked a lot of fruit and it was all sitting in baskets in the carport waiting to be divided and processed. They had also finished putting the last of the row covers so I'm hoping that we didn't lose too much to the downturn in the weather. Well, I figured that's what I would be doing most of the day, preserving food, so I left Scott gently snoring in the still warm bed and got up and got dressed.

I stepped outside and heard the clink and clank coming from the kitchen area as a late breakfast was fixed. The morning meal was omelets, biscuits, and milk, OJ, tea, and coffee. The coffee we brought in yesterday was welcome as we have been getting low. We've still got a lot of tea bags … both the real stuff and herbal … but that won't last forever either. I need to talk to some of the others, especially Mr. Morris and Betty, and see if they know of any decent coffee substitutes that we can grow. I've already got herbs going that can be used for tea. The planning never seems to end.

I saw James on the Wall and when I waved he made some kind of motion that I didn't understand until I got closer. He said, "Mom, is there any way I can get something warm to drink up here? It's so cold my chest hurts when I breathe."

Well, it's not often that he asks me for anything these days and I wasn't going to let the opportunity pass me up to play mother hen. I quick walked back to the house - it hurts my face to move much faster than that – grabbed a thermos and the scarf that he had just yesterday rolled his eyes at and headed over to the kitchen to grab some hot water. My Sarah and I are the only ones that will drink tea and no one in the house drinks coffee so over the years we've found other things we like. I know that James wouldn't want cocoa or anything milk-based as it makes him drowsy, not a good thing for guard duty. I had some cider powder tucked away but I was trying to save that as long as I could, we are running out of all of our apple-flavored stuff, even our dried apples; and the applesauce we need to save for baking. I decided to make him some Russian Tea instead. It's kind of a fruity-spicy tea mix that has a Tang base. The Tang won't last forever either but we can substitute orange juice for it eventually. When the apple products are gone they are going to be gone for good; or at least until we can get some kind of trade going with folks up north.

Matlock saw me and followed me over to the Wall and up the temporary ladder that we are using to get up and down. "Scott mentioned that he wanted to get started building the stairwells up to the new guard rooms on the corners. Have you seen what he's done so far?"

I told him I had. The steel storage containers that had been bolted and welded onto the corners with more ease that Scott had at first thought. A blowtorch had been used to cut door ways and observation windows. Scott and his crew had already built frames to go into the rough openings that will hold doors and screens to keep the bugs out. He still wants brackets to be bolted on to add yet more stability to the structure. He was also considering adding furring strips inside to take compressed insulation and drywall to so that it wouldn't be quite so much like an oven come summer. Sliding shutters that can be closed from the inside will complete the security features.

After I dropped the warm drink and scarf off to James with only a minor admonishment to use both since Matlock was there, and after Matlock had said his goodbyes to the guards currently on duty, he followed me down to the ground. It wasn't like Matlock to just wander around with no purpose so I just looked at him.

"I don't know how it happened but Becky's pregnant," he forced out in a rush.

I laughed and he grinned and said, "OK, so I know how it happened but … we were being really careful and counting days. We had planned to wait a bit longer before seeing if anything happened."

Trying not to laugh at him again I said, "Matt, you're a grown man but just in case you've not … well … look, stress can throw a woman's cycle off and counting is all well and good but you have to know when to start the counting and you have to make some other assumptions that aren't 100% effective."

With a sheepish grin that still managed to make him look like he was feeling like cock of the walk he replied, "Yeah, knowing that and applying that is two different things apparently. Don't get me wrong, Becky and I are thrilled, but we don't have a doctor or even a midwife. I'd never say anything to Waleski but I can't help but wish we at least had one of those."

"Don't look at me. All five of my pregnancies had a lot of medical intervention. Two of them – Rose and Johnnie – were even C-sections. I can help but it looks like nature and the good Lord are going to have to lead the way on this one."

"Yeah, about that. You know I don't go in for religion but … you really believe all that."

Uh oh. It always worried me when confronted by conversations like this. This wasn't the first time I've had to walk that particular mine field. I'm always afraid of hurting or offending someone. "Yeah, I really believe all that stuff."

"Well … so does Becky and she seems … She's really … Look, she's scared. But maybe if you were to say something to her, maybe say you're … um … you know … um … praying for her or whatever it is you do that it will make her feel better."

Poor guy. Like they say, there are no atheists in foxholes. I guess there are a lot of private struggles going on, Matlock isn't the first to bring it up and likely he won't be the last. Everyone has an opinion and convictions and eventually we all will have to choose the absolutes we live by. At least he was trying really hard not to be judgmental.

"I'll stop in and talk to her. Have you told anyone else or should I keep my mouth closed?"

"Under normal circumstances we'd keep it quiet until she was three months along but we don't have that kind of luxury of privacy. Waleski doesn't want her on any of the heavy work crews and if there is an emergency the more people that know which of our women are pregnant the better."

"You make it sound like we've got a lot of them. There's only two … now three … pregnant ladies."

"Boys and girls will be boys and girls and without getting too graphic the reason why Becky and I had to use natural birth control is because there aren't that many condoms left in the supplies. Birth control pills are gone totally."

"Well … yeah … that'd do it all right. I'll talk to Betty and she and I might come up with something for Waleksi who is probably about ready to dig a hole and pull it in after him."

"For a fact," Matlock laughed. "And now he and Rilla look like they are going to be pairing off too. Are you and Scott figuring on having any more?"

"Nope. Baby making factory is closed down. We had our five and were lucky to have those. You know, we lost two when we were younger. We never found out why I miscarried, guess it was just one of those things, but with both I was hospitalized and had to have D-and-C's. It makes me a little sensitive to the issues facing the women in Sanctuary even if I can no longer experience myself."

At the confused look on Matlock's face I explained, "Well, there are all sorts of miscarriages but unlike with most full-term pregnancies in some miscarriages not all of the placenta gets expelled." Despite the fact that Matlock was getting a little green I continued, "If that happens the tissue that is left can cause infection or can continue to send signals to the woman's body that cause her to continue bleeding. That means that a women can die either from a child-birth related infection or she can bleed to death. That's what happened to me. I was a heavy bleeder and I wouldn't wish the experience on my worst enemy. D-and-C's used to be pretty routine with miscarriages because of the potential danger of bleeding and infection but I'm not sure what we'll be able to do any more. Betty and I have done some talking and I know there are certain teas that are used in less developed countries. I also know that Waleski is studying everything he can get his hands one but …. "

We were both silent for a moment thinking of all of the possibilities that the future held. "Actually, what I came to ask was would you switch with Becky on the run today."

"Oh Matt, I …"

"I know its short notice but I already said something to Scott. He said that he was OK with it so long as James and David were going." At my outraged look he continued, "Look, I know you're an adult but with the way things are going I thought I'd run it by Scott first. You had a close call yesterday and you're still banged up."


	132. Day 170 (part 7)

Grabbing a hold of my attitude I took and deep, calming breath and said, "It's OK. We all have to adjust to the new reality we're living in. I don't have a problem with it particularly; I just would like to do the 'asking of Scott' myself in the future if you don't mind. I realize as a physically weaker member of any team that I'm going to have to follow someone else's playbook, but you might not find some of the other women quite as …. understanding … as I'm trying to be. Let me make sure that all my duties are covered. What time do they plan on moving out?"

They wanted to be out by 10 am so they could reach the meeting place and be set up by eleven o'clock. When Scott was fully awake after I nudged him to make sure that Matlock had indeed talked to him, I asked him as lightly as I could why he had handled things the way he had. He was a bit chagrined that he hadn't broken it to me first but insisted he was only trying to do what was best for me and my safety. I let it slide this time figuring it to be a left over gut reaction from my time in the attic. At least he hadn't insisted on coming with me, or worse forbidden me from going. The whole "Lord and Master" thing just bothers me a bit even though I know Scott probably doesn't fully realize how he is making me feel; his motivations are pure, just a little kiltered into the overdone in my opinion. After the attic incident I knew I'd likely have to deal with stuff like this from Scott … I've got to give him his due, he hasn't been as bad as he could be, but at some point I'm going to have to decide what I can tolerate and what I can't and therein may lay a battle, one no one is going to enjoy. Scott and I have had a few epic battles over the years. There is no winning in such a situation; you just hope that you both survive and something is left when the fight is over.

And I also have to take into consideration the example this sets for the girls. Scott and I worked out our relationship a long time ago; we've had our share of bumps in the road but we've always managed to smooth things out eventually. This is simply what has worked for us; two strong personalities from very different backgrounds meshing our needs and our wants into something constructive and rewarding for both of us. That doesn't mean that I want to see my daughters replaying what they see just because they don't think there is any alternative. They aren't me, their needs will be different. Sometimes I wonder if that isn't why Rose has always seemed so shy of the idea of having boys as anything other than friends. I never really thought about it before and just figured she was a "late bloomer" in that respect. She and David seem to be working things out, but to what purpose I don't know. I'd like to talk to her about it, but she's got a prickly hedge around some subjects that she and I have never really been able to work through. I don't know if it's my place though to try and give her advice. Heck, I'm not even sure she needs my advice; she may know exactly what she is doing. I could really mess up by saying the wrong thing.

I know I've gotten some rude comments over the years from so-called friends about my lack of "emancipation" or something equally stupid. I made the mistake of listening to a couple of these "friends" too much years ago and nearly ruined things to the point they weren't fixable. The truth is that Scott has had to make a significant number of compromises over the years himself. From the outside our marriage looks very static and traditional but the reality is that both of us have to work hard and be flexible while dealing with the other partner's "absolutes"; it's far from one-sided on compromises. I worry that between the stress of our new lives and the remaining emotional pain from the attic fiasco our delicate détente is going to breakdown and we'll go through some troubles like we went through early in our marriage. Neither Scott nor I want that to happen. I just don't know how much to worry about it. Worrying too much or bottling up my fears could actually bring on what I fear the most.

I worried on the subject like a dog with an old bone until it was nearly time to leave. I guess Scott had been watching me. A lot of people say I've got a stone face and that I'm hard to read; or that I hide my true feelings well. But Scott's always been able to see passed my shields. With only thirty minutes to go he insisted we take a walk in the orange grove. I was prepared for a long list of things I wasn't allowed to do or things that I absolutely had to do but what I got instead was a kiss and a present.

Scott really dislikes the fact that I prefer my machete to my guns. But he also knows what the machete symbolizes for me, not the least of which is confidence and independence. He said, "You can't use that big pig sticker for everything so I want you to carry this."

I really expected it to be another gun but I opened the newspaper he had wrapped it in and … It was a black ka-bar utility knife in a black synthetic sheath. My dad had picked up a half dozen of these at an auction one time for next to nothing and you would have thought he'd somehow skinned a Rockefeller out of a deal. I reminded Scott about the incident and he said, "I know. This is out of your Dad's collection. Since you seem to have the same affinity for knives as he had it seems appropriate. I'd like to give one of these to James at some point and maybe Johnnie too when he is old enough. I made sure it is sharp and the carbon steel blade should hold up to just about anything you could need it for. Just … be careful will you. I know I'm getting close to suffocating you but … I don't know what I would do if anything … "

I didn't protest when he nearly squeezed me to pieces in a bear hug. I guess for now I have to be satisfied with Scott understanding that I'm having a hard time dealing with his control needs.

We walked back to the rear gate and all of us heading out made sure to tell everyone good bye. You just can't take for granted anything these days; especially not the idea that the last time you said goodbye to someone might be the last chance you'll ever get to say goodbye to them.

Matlock stayed in-compound this time while Dix led the run since he had already made contact with the mysterious radio operator named Steve.

Despite Dix's obvious excitement he made sure we took it slow and steady on our way over to the corner of Bruce B. Downs Blvd and Fletcher Avenue. I couldn't help but think about how far we had come. Once upon a time an excursion to Vandervort Rd would have been a herculean undertaking. Now we passed the old Vandervort house where we had gotten all of the long term storage foods (now in rotation while we try and reach self-sufficiency) and from there we slide down Livingston Avenue by-passing many of the houses that we had already combed through.

I hadn't been this way since the Big Horde came through though our patrols had reported on the rampant damage that had occurred. There were broken windows, downed fences, and debris strewn all over the place. We had tried to leave things clean when we went through, including dealing with any corpses we found, but the zombies destroyed any measure of organization that had been left. The odor in the air was pretty powerful as well; we hadn't even bothered with trying to dispose of any biological remains since the Big Horde. The smell made it so difficult on our motorcycle patrols that they had to change the kind of helmets they wore to accommodate better masks. The world is sick, and I may not just be speaking hyperbole about that in the near future.

Meeting Steve was … educational. I guess that's what you would call it though that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface. He reminds me strongly of the character J.B. Dix from the original Deathlands series. Not so much in looks, Steve is a bigger man and doesn't wear glasses. Its more the attitude and, oh I don't know, just everything else I always imagined the character to be. The character "J.B." was also known as The Armorer and was a walking encyclopedia about all things weapon related. Steve talks a little more than J.B is supposed to in the books but at the same time his words are to the point … and pointed if he feels it necessary if you catch my drift.

We weren't the only ones who got to the rendezvous point early. I was the only female on our side. I was the only replacement that Dix would consider after Becky because of my quote/unquote "combat experience." I snickered at that a bit but if Dix meant that I'd gotten used to doing whatever was necessary, including following orders but still being able to think for myself, then I guess I qualify. The other people in our small party were Dix, Cease, Waleski, and Samuel. Yep, Dix had brought his son. I guess Samuel and I were supposed to be some kind of show of goodwill and appear less threatening. Considering though that at fourteen Samuel is only a handswidth shorter than his dad and is already filling out ... he's the least unthreatening looking kid his age I've ever known.

Poor Samuel, he was having to grow up so fast but he was still just a kid and when he got his first glimpse of Steve his mouth fell open. After getting a little background on the man his appearance wasn't all that unexpected but at first meeting he was more than a tad intimidating. The man was dressed in urban fatigues, a dark baseball cap, and standing beside a black Toyota FJ cruiser. I could hear Samuel whisper to Cease and ask him what all those weapons were. I'm glad he asked Cease because all I knew was that he was a scary looking man with his aviator glasses that hid his eyes on a solemn face. Even I could tell he was former something, though at the time I didn't know what.

Cease said the shotgun was a M4 with Eotech; call it what you will it looks like it would get the job done and then some. All the extra mags he carried said he was prepared to use it without ever having to utter a word. On his hip was a Glock 17. Not too far away was a Remington 870 with a 14-inch barrel and what appeared to be a .38 special even closer to hand.

The lady that stepped from the other side of the cruiser as we pulled up looked just as capable if perhaps a little softer. But being a lady myself I knew that appearances could fool the heck out of most men so I put her in the "highly dangerous" category until I found out otherwise. Oh, and I found out and she is highly dangerous, but only to the enemies of her family.

Dix stepped out of the hummer along with Waleski and Cease, Samuel, and I stepped out of the F350. It was a tense moment but introductions were soon made and after Dix and Steve had finished sizing each other up the testosterone dropped a few notches. I had an itch like we were being watched and indeed Steve admitted that they had a few keeping an eye on the meeting "just in case."


	133. Day 170 (part 8)

Waleski was getting irritated with things and said, "Look, you mentioned that you had someone that needed medical attention. I've got things to do so if you do, bring 'em out and if not say so already."

Of course that made Steve bristle and I couldn't blame him. Waleksi takes some getting used to. I can read beneath the curmudgeonly act but not even most people in Sanctuary can. It's worse since Rachel was killed due to his lack of sleep and concern that he isn't doing enough for the patients he inherited from her.

I couldn't help it, the tension was thick enough to cut with a butter knife. "Nice bedside 'Ski." When everyone turned to give me a sharp look I added, "Oh, don't mind him. He's a grumpy do-gooder. But seriously, if you have a problem we'll do our best to help. Oh by the way, I'm Sissy and usually have something to say about almost everything whether you want to hear it or not, so if we're all done testing our boundaries could we maybe cut through the hormones and get to the constructive stuff that is supposed to be happening?"

The woman snorted a little like she was holding back a laugh but said, "Steve?"

Steve, himself looking like he was trying really hard not to break a smile nodded to Waleski and they walked over to the Toyota where a door was opened to reveal a girl wrapped in several blankets. At a look from Waleski I walked over and saw that the woman, who is called "Shorty" by Steve, had crawled in through the other side to sit beside the distrustful 12 year old. This girl had definitely been taught about "stranger danger" and didn't look at all thrilled to have Waleski anywhere near her.

"I've got one just about your age. She's learned to put up with Waleski, I bet you will to. He's just naturally sour so you'll have to try and look passed that."

The girl looked like she wasn't exactly impressed with me either but having kids I was used to their low tolerance level for human beings in general at this age and didn't take it personally. I introduced myself to Shorty and asked her what was up. Apparently the young girl, we still don't know her name or who else might have been keeping an eye on us, had tripped and fallen into one of the fountains on campus. The water was shallow but stagnant and no one thought anything of it at first as she had dried off right away but two days later she started on what has become a long drawn out illness.

Waleski finally coaxed the girl into letting him listen to her breathing and taking some of her other vital signs. "I don't think its pneumonia but it's gonna get there if we don't get this bronchitis cleared up."

He gave Shorty a list of instructions on what needed to be done and then pulled out one of our last Z-pacs and wrote out when and with what he wanted them taken. Steve was listening intently and took the meds from Waleski before he could give them to Shorty and looked them all over.

Dix was getting as bristly as Steve at that point but Waleski, who was calmer now that he was in his element said, "Those haven't been tampered with. The seals are good. I had some loose meds that I could have given her but these will be easier to manage and hopefully will take less time to show us if they are going to be effective. If you have some Robitussen DM that should help alleviate the coughing while making them more productive. You'll have to watch her at first as she'll probably cough up enough phlegm to strangle on and you'll want to make sure she drinks plenty of fluids. If you can swing it, warm broth should help with some of that and here is a recipe for homemade ORS. You know what that is? Good. You have the ingredients? Even better. She's going to be feeling better before she really is better so you're probably going to have to sit on her but she needs to stay out of drafts and inside as much as you can keep her there for a while; but make sure she gets plenty of sunlight too. The vitamin D will help with any depression she might feel from being cooped up so much."

The girl was exhausted and fighting sleep but Waleski told her that sleep was a good thing and not to give her folks a hard time about taking her meds or staying in bed. She wasn't so tired that she couldn't look at Shorty and roll her eyes which I consider a really good thing under the circumstances. If she still has the gumption to mime a little sass then she can't be too far gone.

That's when Dix and Steve started talking in earnest about the radio station and the more they talked the more things calmed down.

Steve is … was … an LEO training officer though he never really said from where. He's one of the most careful survivors I've met yet. Most of us seem to need to share our stories right away; it's a kind of bonding experience. Steve on the other hand is used to a lifetime of being careful and he'd "bond" when he was dang well good and ready. I didn't get much more from Shorty except that they had other kids and that she was a Philosophy/English/Linguistics major that was working on her Master's degree when things went crazy. Where ever they are from, it was bad and they didn't think trying to sit out their first winter "up there" made a lot of sense. So they packed up and in the process of moving place to place eventually wound up here.

She asked me if I knew what the history of the damage was on campus and I told her what I knew and how the hospital across the street (UCH) was all toppled over like it was. An hour had passed before I had even realized it and I saw the girl was fast asleep. Poor thing had dark circles under her eyes and had obviously lost some weight recently. Of course we all had but with kids it's not always a good thing. Shorty forestalled the need to ask whether they had enough to eat by saying that if they could get her coughing under control she'd be able to eat more.

When Shorty asked me if either Dix or Waleski were "my man" I nearly strangled myself trying to hold back the laughter. Guessing it was no secret that we came from a survivor's settlement I explained that my husband wasn't one of the party and then gave a little background info on the five of us that were standing around. I didn't reveal much about Sanctuary but I did say that if she was ever hankering for some female companionship to give a holler. She admitted she might just do that but that for now she and Steve were keeping things close. I admitted to understanding and then asked if they had any plans that she could share.

For now they were looking for a place to settle and they were pretty sure they had found it. The nomadic life was OK for a bit but it had some serious drawbacks. In return I shared that we were working on building some trade relations and that Dix was likely talking to Steve about it while they huddled up between the Hummer and the F350. I also felt the need to warn her about the odd behavior we'd begun noticing in the zombies and how it might be possible that the Big Horde could be swinging back this way at some point in the future. She looked concerned at that and said they'd seen some of the larger hordes themselves a little too up close and personal and that there wasn't any place that was escaping them, not even the settled and protected areas of the Midwest or the other smaller territories that the Federal government still firmly held. She said that Steve was probably sharing that bit with Dix and we are having a community meeting in the morning to hash out some plans that we need to be getting to sooner rather than later.

Steve said they needed to get going so that he could make his three o'clock broadcast and that was our signal to break up and go our separate ways. I still don't know how many of their people had us in their sights but I'm beginning to think that maybe their group isn't very big from the kind of travelling Shorty said they were doing. I guess we'll find out as time goes by. They aren't claiming much of a territory either. The only stipulation that Steve made after Dix sounded him out about us gathering in the local medical facilities was that if we actually came on campus to give him a heads up so he could warn the guards no to shoot.

After we left the meet up we headed out to see if we could scavenge anything useful out of the wreckage that spread out from UCH. The hospital itself was a complete loss. Between fire, zombies, and looting you couldn't have paid me in gold bullion to dig around in there. And the rats were fierce. We had better luck in some of the associated medical offices that stretched north along Bruce B. Downs Blvd and east along Fletcher Ave. The pharmacy in the Tampa Medical Plaza was a washout but Waleski found the door to their extra inventory and we hit the jackpot. Some of the stuff had gone over but most of the meds in pill form were still good. There were some dead rats in the corner of the small room that had OD'd by nibbling into some of the easier to access containers but it must have sent signals to other rats in the building because aside from that one area no other varmint depredation was visible.

We combed that building from top to bottom, meeting a few zombies along the way that we dropped down the elevator shafts to get them out of the way, using rifles and shotguns that we had taped LED flashlights to. I hated wasting the batteries but we wouldn't be able to save them forever and the medications were much needed. We brought back everything that was on Waleski's list and then some. I guess when the power went off the dark upper floors of a zombie habitat wasn't quite as appealing to looters as it might have been even if they had been looking for narcotics.

You would have thought Waleski had found a candy store when he found the cache of inactivated vaccines in a small, nondescript office used by Homeland Security. There were several in a locked cabinet for typhoid, polio (Salk), Hepititis A, and Rabies. Thinking about these vaccines I figure we have a couple of years at most before the major childhood illnesses begin making their deadly rounds again, ten years at the absolute most. A lot of the attenuated vaccines require boosters so by ten years out everyone will start to be vulnerable to those nasty things again. Measles, chicken pox, and God knows what else is in our future whether we want them to be or not.

There was only one thing that Waleski and Dix got into it over. Waleski wanted to bring back almost the entire office of an OB/gyn that had been located on the third floor. We hadn't brought the trailer thinking we were only after drugs and would be bringing back any large equipment. In the end Waleski won that round after explaining that he'd be able to adjust the settings and it would replace a lot of equipment he wouldn't be able to convert for Sanctuary like x-ray machines.


	134. Day 170 (part 9)

As I was helping Waleski to load the last thing in – stuff it in was more like it – I asked him if he thought a medical mission facility would have things that he could use. He gave me the strangest look and said possibly. I hate to admit it but I can't believe it has taken me so long to think of checking to see if there was a International Mission Board facility that we could get to. They have portable equipment that gets taken on remote mission excursions all the time. I saw a presentation about them once and some of the equipment is only briefcase sized and can operate on rechargeable batteries, by being hooked up to a generator, and some of them are even solar powered. The no-power equipment would be even more useful and they might have fully stocked, ready to go medevac kits. I also told him about the major immigration health care center down off of Hooker's Point where Scott and James got vaccinations and the malaria medication that time they went to Guatemala. Waleski wrote furiously in his steno pad which had become his best friend next to Rilla.

Tomorrow after the meeting another group is going to go back out and do some more gathering in the medical facilities. In addition to the meds and medical supplies I located a bunch of bottled juices, hard candies, and similar type food stuff that I guess some of the doctor's offices and labs kept on hand in case their patients felt faint or something.

It appears that I don't have as much to do after the meeting tomorrow as I thought. The frost didn't get as much as I had feared and most of my chores and the food preservation has been caught up. Scott doesn't have as much work either so we are hoping to do some catching up of our own. Scott has to wait for McElroy to lay out and prepare the ground for the last leg of the new Wall extension and that requires bulldozing some trees and a couple of dilapidated structures so he is going to give Angus a hand moving his stuff.

Angus has moved his digs from the one building that he had originally thought about renovating over to the Fire Station house. Two reasons; first and foremost the Big Horde really damaged his first choice. It's not that it wasn't salvageable but with the other building available the work wasn't worth the time and trouble. Second is that the fire station is a little closer to Sanctuary and is newer, making it a fully concrete building all to the new hurricane codes. The roof's tie downs and gutter system is much better than the old building as well and was much easier to convert to a water catchment system. Come storm season those two factors could really be important. And the bays in the fire station are perfect to park Juicer and Angus' new camper in so that they don't have to be left outside to be vandalized.

And speaking of Angus I am going to try to write out Angus' story once and for all. Seems like every time I try to sit down and get it finished something comes us. Saen said she would tell me some of the story from her side and I plan on getting a few clarifications from Glenn as well. I'm dying to get that marked off of my "to do" list. I hate promising myself that I'll do something and then having to stick it on the back burner forever. Pretty soon the planting season is going to really get going and I'm not going to have much time for anything but digging in the dirt and food preservation.

It was funny. Usually everyone is pretty tired at the end of the day so we just sit around and relax after dinner. Those new boys though are full of wim, wigger, and witality … or at least that's what my grandmother would have called it. Chris, Brian, and Austin started it with Chris' Frisbees. By the time all was said and done whoever wasn't on guard duty was out there playing a game of tag football. Even James and Samuel got into the act. Brandon was happy to just occasionally glance back from his post on the Wall. I guess sports still aren't his thing though he's not quite the Momma's boy that he had appeared so many weeks ago. Most of us women just looked on and laughed and tried hard not to get trampled. They were all over the place in their exuberance.

At seven o'clock everyone finally had to break off and get their evening chores completed. The cows were certainly bawling to let everyone know it was time for them to be milked. They needed their milking at seven and seven or they really set up a clatter. Each cow is giving between two and three gallons of raw milk each day now that they get fed regularly. Reba said her next project is going to be cheese-making and I can hardly wait. It's been so long since any of us has had cheese that isn't powdered or processed I think anything that even approaches success will be welcome with great fanfare. I've made Queso Blanco a couple of times but we're trying to save the unopened powdered milk for when the cows start giving less.

Argh, my hand has such a cramp in it. It's been a while since I've written this much by hand. I went through nearly a whole pen to do it too. Before all the pens and pencils run out I need to start figuring out what I'm going to write with when that happens. I've squirreled away enough paper for several lifetimes' worth of journals but ink is another thing. If I can swing it – and it will take some sweet words for sure – I'm going to try and talk Scott in to another run to a craft supply or art supply store. I have a couple in mind and they'd be on the way, or at least not too far out of the way, to other major runs that I know are on our list. I want to get all the bottled ink and pen nibs I can find. I also need to see if they have powdered ink in stock. If that doesn't work out I know you can use poke berries for ink as well as a few other similar things but the availability would be seasonal. I need some source that I can depend on year 'round.

Here I was complaining about my hand being in a cramp and I haven't put the writing utensil down yet. Well, now I am. I hate going to bed alone but I don't have a choice, Scott is on duty and I'll probably be writing quite a bit tomorrow anyway. Best to get some rest while I can. There is a small, niggling voice in the back of my head saying that something this way comes; not tomorrow or the next day … but soon. Gives me a spooky, shivery feeling. I hope it's just my imagination.


	135. Day 171

**Author's Note** : Thanks for all of the feed back. I hope everyone is enjoying the story. Someone asked about the background of the men of Sanctuary being more detailed than the background of the females. I promise it isn't intentional. To be honest it was simply easier for me to make the background of the men very specific and upfront and the women and girls' background tend to come out more subtly. It isn't always like that but by and large that is how it is turning out. If you don't get any background on a character it is because they are so minor that details would bog down the story, or their background only comes out as the story progresses for some reason. (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, LOL).

* * *

 **Day 171**

Do not ask me how Bekah managed to sweet talk Angus into writing his story down, but she did. I suspect all she had to do was turn her big brown eyes on him and flutter them a little and go, "Oh Uncle Angus … pleeeaase." And he likely melted like soft serve ice cream in July. She does the same thing to Scott and sometimes I just have to duck my head to avoid them seeing me laugh.

You'd never know it just by looks but Angus is a sucker when it comes to kids. I've probably mentioned it more than a time or two but it gets truer every day. By the time they are teenagers he is pretty much over them being able to push his buttons but tweens on down can wrap him around their little finger. That's not to say that the teenagers don't adore "Uncle Angus" too … it's just a different type of relationship; more of a mentor/adult kind of thing.

Before Bekah or any of the other kids get a peek at this I'll clean it up a bit. I love Angus to bits, but he can be a little bit of a diamond in the rough. He's not the only one that can spin a raw tale but he is one of the ones that they try and mimic the most. I'm thinking the kids are planning on turning this into a story book for the library and being as how I don't want Johnnie and Bubby to let fly with some of the words I hear around the compound I'll just make sure that a super Uncle Angus story doesn't give them any more ideas than they already have. So, without further ado, here is what Angus has given me thus far:

After standing there and watching the low lifes running away I thought it was over. Then I realized I was still pissed; that told me it wasn't over at all. They could come back and try again. True there weren't too many left but I wasn't convinced that all of them were dead that needed to be dead. How many more could there be? Enough to succeed next time? No, I made my mind up that wasn't going to happen, not if I could convince them that entering this part of Florida is akin to entering through the gates of hell itself.

If they had just kept their mouths shut then maybe I would have calmed down but they were very insistent on describing what they wanted the women and kids for. For that alone I decided I would go after them. Nobody is going to hurt them kids, nobody. I'll skin 'em and hang their hides to cure on Sanctuary's Wall before I let that happen.

I knew I couldn't tell anybody I was going. It's not that they would try to stop me, it's the ones that would try to go with me or follow after that I wanted to avoid. Jim for sure. No, I couldn't take him with me. He's dependable and more useful than a multi-tool, but for what I had in mind he couldn't be along. No, I couldn't have him seeing me doing what had to be done. He's not squeamish but he still has a conscience that might ache. Me ... hell ... I've seen too much that this life can dish out. They tried to mess with the kids that I protect. That's all it took. They signed their own death warrants.

It's a good thing I've been getting my exercise lately, I feel like I did back when I used to hunt for a living. I managed to keep a fast paced walk going for half a day without stopping. Course it was still night when I started out, but not for long.

I was a little worried that slipping away would be more difficult. First I had to ditch the dogs. I heard about that long and loud when I got back. There was only one way I could think of that would keep the dogs quiet, I gave them a job. Ya heard about that alright. I sent the dogs to go and guard Bekah. She's the only one the dogs know by a word and they have to have a command word and that's the one I know they get. Whenever they play with Bekah I call her Big Girl and they know her by that so. I heard James went to wake her up that morning and he got the fright of his life. I know I shouldn't have laughed, the boy probably got a bad scare, but the way he told the story I couldn't help it. He's a good sport for not holding it against me. Sissy now, I thought she was going to throw something at me but she made me dessert instead. I swear I'll never understand women. I think they all must be a little crazy.

As for slipping out that was a little easier than I thought. I just walked into the dark while everyone was going through all the crap out front.

[Sissy's note: It was hours before we figured out Angus had taken off. Poor Bekah, she even had company in the outhouse. It wasn't until we tried to find Angus to have him call the dogs off that we realized that he wasn't just out scouting around. And he's right, I did nearly throw a skillet at him for going off without food or anything. I know he's used to surviving on his own, but he's one of us now. And if women are crazy, it's because the men have made us that way. 'Course my granny always said trying to figure out who drove who crazy first was like asking which came first, the chicken or the egg.]

It was getting on to noon before I got my first sighting on them. I came around a bend in the road and there they were about a half mile further on. It looked like close to three dozen of them and they looked like they were setting to stay for a while. They got farther than I thought they would without stopping.

About half way on down further I slipped to the side of the road into a wooded area to my left and just kept getting closer. I had to remind myself to stop at about 250 yards out. I so wanted to just walk out of the tree line and start bashing heads in but I needed to thin their ranks a bit first. I could have done it too, catching them by surprise and bashing their heads; the idiots were just lying around and the only place they were watching was behind them.

Well as I was walking after them I came up with an idea on how to keep them from coming back and trying their shit again. I set myself up about 60 yards in the tree line which put me almost exactly 250 yards from their resting place. I had a clear view of maybe half of them and then set my sight to 250 yards.

As I was getting ready to shoot the first one I saw two of the guys having a heated discussion a little to the side of the others. That gave me another idea. I moved over till I was next to a rather small sapling and took aim at the one standing with his back to me. I shot him right through the back of his neck, and that 7.62 bullet passed right through and into the other's throat. Two for one, cool. I did enough damage that it must have severed the spinal column cause even if they reanimated, they never moved.

After the first shot everyone jumped up and started looking and hollering at the same time. God they made an awful lot of noise. I hadn't seen too many zombies around but all that noise the fools were making was bound to draw them sooner or later. I took a second to take very careful aim and then I shot a skinny little guy right in the ankle. I disabled him without having to worry about him becoming a zombie right away.

After that I shot three more in center mass and headed at a trot deeper into the wooded area and kept going till I couldn't hear them anymore. I guess their fellow raiders had to waste ammo to put them down permanently. The greenery around this part of the city sucked for coverage but it got the job done. Mostly it was just scrubby bushes and crap like that, but it was enough to keep me hid since it was so overgrown.

Step one - contact - done. I knew they wouldn't follow too far in so I sat down against a tree and started to clean my Mauser. I do love this rifle but the barrel needs to be cleaned a lot more than many. Still it is a nice weapon. After cleaning the Mauser I decided it was time to head back and start after them again.

I went farther up the tree line before going to the road so I would come out about 500 yards past where they had stopped to rest. As I got to the edge of the scrub line I pulled out the little rifle scope I had. I don't use it on the rifle instead I use it instead of binoculars. All the good binoculars we've found so far are needed by the guards so I carry a .22 scope and it works fine.

As I was glassing the area I saw about what I expected. They had left (or forced) someone behind to see if I came back to check on the ones I shot. Only one; I was insulted. He was lying on the ground under a pickup truck with a clear view of my killing area. I walked over till I was in-line with him and got down on the ground myself. Prone I took aim and made a Texas heart shot. I saw the spray blow out in-front of him. I walked over and all five of my first kills where were they dropped. The guy under the truck hadn't moved, had a nice fist sized hole through his neck and a v of gore spayed out in front of him. Looks like with the right caliber a throat shot will immobilize a corpse near as well as a head shot will.

One of the dead guys had a handful of rounds I could use and there was a half full canteen. Other than that they didn't have anything worth taking so I started walking again.

After an hour of casual walking I saw a car with a bike rack on the back that had two bikes on it still in working condition. Hadn't ridden a bike in more years than I can remember but I did manage to keep from falling. But not from sweating.

How do these people do it? They say it's cold, but dammit, I think it's dang blasted warm out here. Coming up to a major intersection I could see that the raiders had split into two groups; the bigger one heading north and the smaller one west. They're at the edge of me being able to see them but I could still see them.

The smaller group was only about 6 in number and that was the direction I headed in. It's a slight downhill grade so I just coast along. Well hell, downhill for flat freaking Florida anyway. The cars were still just where they stopped and had not moved so I knew that nobody had driven through there since the shit hit so I didn't know where these guys were going. Not that I would know anyway as I didn't think to grab a map before I left.

The raiders started down an off ramp road so I stopped and watched. Thinking this was as good a place to be as any, I got off the bike and walked over to the roadside rail and got down on one knee. They were at a right hand angle to me and 500 yards out and about 40 feet lower than I was. I set the sights to 600 yards and waited till they were in the midst of a bunch of jap looking cars before I shot the last guy in line.

Damn but that shot was a little low, but he still went down. They all stopped and looked right at me. Bam! The one in the front of the line went down. At the sound of that shot they all dropped down behind cars and started trying to get a shot off at me. Their shots were wild and nothing hit anywhere near me. Next I took aim at a guy behind a red car, aiming through the hood and front quarter panel right about in his chest. Bam! He dropped too. I love knowing what a 7.62 will do. I duck walked (that's what the kids call it anyway) back from the edge of the incline because some of their shots were getting a lot too close to make me happy.

I swung forward a couple of cars and came back up front and using a truck hood as a rest I took aim at one of the smarter ones that had been trying to run farther up the road and leave his buddies to deal with me.

Not being too sure of the yardage I aimed for his head and made my shot. I saw it hit him in the lower back and he went down hard. He was a loud one; I could hear his screaming clear up to my location. The other three started running from car to car a little too quick to get a good shot at so I aimed ahead of them and waited for them to run out.

Bam! I got another one in mid chest. That left two and they were out of range now so I got back on the bike and started coasting on down to the turn off. When I was going by I saw that the first one I shot had crawled into a field and was dragging himself away. He was making a nice blood trail and as I went by I said, "You keep running and I'll be back for you real soon."

The other three where dead, and I made sure they stayed dead. I intended to search them for stuff on the way back and didn't want to have catch them and kill them again to do it.

I finally had to leave the bike because the two I was after left the road and headed into a motel parking lot and then behind the building itself. I went around the building on the other side and saw them climbing a security fence to the buildings farther on. I shot one of them right there, but it was through the head and I was aiming for center mass. It was a lucky shot. Damn, I had forgotten to adjust the sights.

I moved the sight to battle sights and got off a shot just as the other one was rounding a corner of a building and saw the shot hit brick. I reluctantly let that one go. I figure if he makes it he can spread the word how far they can get chased if they come back.

As it was getting late I headed up to the second floor of the motel and started to check for an empty room. Room 26 was empty so I went in to grab a bite to eat and get some sleep.

As you can see, he tells it just like he saw it. I know he has more for me but he keeps fiddling with it. It was kind of funny. When he saw me and handed me this first batch he said, "Damn Sissy, I don't know how you do this every day. I swear my eyeballs are bleeding just trying to put a little bit of this stuff down on paper."

Angus is definitely more action than words. It must have just about killed him to sit still long enough to get on paper what he has so far. We'll all appreciate it that much more for the effort that it's taken. Makes me wonder if maybe I shouldn't ask the other members of Sanctuary to write their impressions or how they're feeling or something similar. It would make for one heck of a history book some day.

I've spent most of this day working in the gardens and helping all the new folks find house goods that they need. Of course, in order to do that I've had to locate where all of the storage containers have been moved to. At least we had the sense to spray paint numbers on the side and inventory what was supposed to be in those containers. We realized too late that some of the storage containers that had our supplies in them were being put on the second layer of the Wall with no good way to access the stuff inside of them. We'll move stuff as we can but it's going to take some time and effort to put things the way they need to be.

I'll be honest and say that I hope this is the last major expansion of the Wall. It's not that the time and effort put into the first and second perimeter Walls was wasted, they served their purpose and then some, but I just hope this is it. It takes so much time and we already have so much we need to do, not the least of which is more gathering.

I've started a huge list of things that we simply must have for all the children in Sanctuary. Clothes, socks, underclothes, shoes are needed for all of the kids. We don't need the fussy stuff, more like we need to go to Dick's Sporting Goods and Sports Authority and a few places like that and try and clean them out of all of the kid sizes. Boiling the clothes the way we have to now is just frankly too hard for the "modern" seams and fabrics. I'd also like to go to another fabric and craft store and try and kick out a lot of the stuff on my lists. I figure if we can't find something ready made it might be time to think about sewing what we need.

I brought up to Scott how if the men were too busy to take us, there were enough women that we could go on our own and since we knew exactly what we needed we could gather it more quickly than sending men with a list. Well, you would have thought I'd talked about taking a run to California or something. I let it go rather than upset him anymore, but I haven't forgotten about it. I'll give it a few more days and then bring it up again. I know several of the other women are gung ho to do this.

And then there are the maternity needs and how a couple of them want wedding dresses or something approximating them. Rilla and Melody would like a wedding dress even if it is just a tea-length evening gown. Rhonda says she will be too pregnant for anything like that but I have an idea on how to manage it if I could just get the right supplies. The last stretch of the last Wall extension is nearly complete and after that all of our paired off couples want to have a commitment ceremony. We'll have to move quick, say within the next week or so. I figure we have about that much time because they need to pick a house out of the new ones that are now within our compound and get it stocked.

You would think that with all the gathering we've been doing over the months we'd have more stuff than we could ever need, but it's amazing how much junk people have as opposed to really and truly useful stuff. We get along OK but it's taken time for us to refine our gathering techniques so that we get what we need without leaving off stuff we want too.

What was nice was that now that we know that Steve and his group over at WUSF are making regular broadcasts we can listen in. Dix says that Steve has all sorts of radio equipment set up and gets word from all over the world. Sometimes it's only a word or a single phrase, but it at least means that there are still people out there.

What's troubling is that more comes out of the "contaminated zones" than comes out of the "protectorate zones." The Protectorate Zones – or PZs – are the areas that are supposedly firmly held by the Federal authorities. They never say government, they say "authorities." Gives me the green willies to think what that could mean. And I'm none too thrilled about being considered contaminated either. I'm a little worried about what that could mean for us this coming summer and fall but I guess we'll just have to keep our ear to the ground.

Dix is working with Steve to arrange a "secure channel" that we can talk back and forth on. I don't know for sure what that means but Bekah said she heard Dix saying that it would mean that we could have private conversations without anyone listening in that wasn't supposed to be listening in.

Matlock took his turn meeting with Steve. Steve is still playing it close to the vest but he said there was a 20-ish young man with him this time. Steve told Waleski that the girl was already showing signs of improvement and I'm sure that is a relief for Shorty.

Zombie activity is picking up a little bit again. Nothing like a horde but it bears watching. The traffic doesn't appear to be coming out of the west so I don't think it is the return of the Big Horde, but that doesn't relieve me like it should. I'll be happy to get a lot of stuff knocked off of our gathering lists and then pull back for a while and focus inside the Wall of Sanctuary for a bit.

Steve added a late night broadcast so tonight I wrote in my journal to the sounds of The Black Crowes and a little Aerosmith . I'm thinking about bribing him with pizza if he'll play a little Joe Bonamassa. It's worth a try. Scott just kind of rolled his eyes and laughed at me bouncing around in my seat while I tried to write. Not exactly what you would call music that relaxes you; more music that makes you want to do a little extracurricular activity.

I'm so glad we found those little Solios. They aren't really powerful solar re-chargers but they work just fine on the little radios we've found to go with them. I'm also glad I had a lot of my favorite music on memory sticks. Its kept me from going totally nuts in the silence the world now seems to offer up as a kind of music all its own.

We are looking to trade goods for information. One of these days we'll have our own radio station set up, but for now security and gathering take precedence. Waleski left some of the medical supplies with Steve and his group today. Later this week I may trade some citrus and greens ... or maybe some plant starts ... for another update on what is going on around the world. And maybe Steve will want to go on the next hunt that the men are putting together as well. The smokehouse is nearly empty and we don't want to cull any of our chickens until our flock is larger. Maybe get a couple this summer, but not before unless we run across a large number of free range biddies.

Well, I'd best be finishing this up and getting to bed. Scott is waiting, if he isn't already asleep. He's been working so hard lately and he's losing weight again. He's not too far from being the same weight as when we got married and it doesn't really look good on him. I have got to find some way to get more carbs into his system. Protein from game, beans, and canned meat we've got … at least for now … but the flour, rice, and pasta aren't going to last forever so we've been rationing it out. Maybe that isn't such a good idea after all.


	136. Day 172

**Author's Note:** I'm not happy with Day 171's formatting so I will likely go back and fix it in the next couple of days. Hopefully Day 172's formatting makes it easier to read the different sections.

* * *

 **Day 172 – Cleaning Day**

Lordy I'm tired. I don't know what it is - time of day, time of year, time of the month, time of life … whatever it is, I'm wore out. I want a vacation. Not just a day off to go squirrely, I mean a real vacation. I guess I never really thought how good Scott and I had it. I mean I knew it, but it's really being reinforced now that we don't have the advantage. Even though we economized quite a bit we had always been able to go when it was convenient. We homeschooled the kids so scheduling was pretty easy. And sure, I had to go primitive and do a lot of our cooking in camps and such but it was fun because it was different from our day to day grind. Now I do that stuff all day, every day and I am just over it … I'm not bored exactly, not overwhelmed exactly, not in a rut exactly, not … oh, I don't know exactly what it is. I just know it is something and I wish I knew what to do about it. Scott asked me if I was "hormonal" and I could have beat him. Maybe I am but that's not the point. I give up, I don't know what the point is and I'm too lazy to erase what I've written and don't want to waste the paper by starting over.

Whatever it is I hope I can get a handle on it. I guess I'm just a little depressed. I was never much into gratuitous shopping or club hopping but I almost feel like that is what I need. Just a ladies day out … or something. Maybe I just have Spring Fever.

It didn't help that today was cleaning day. I'm used to the reality that "a woman's work is never done" and the house work is never finished but I'm thinking of downsizing and getting rid of stuff just so I don't have to clean it any more. Of course there would be an uproar if I did and I'm sure I'd regret something of it later. It's not like there is a store to replace things I accidentally throw away. My irritation with everything is probably just a symptom of whatever the other is that I'm feeling.

Scott is adding to my problems even though he doesn't mean to. He's forever checking up on me and offering advice on how I can organize something a little better, get something done a little faster so I can go onto the next thing on my list. Ostensibly this is supposed to make it easier on me, but I'm beginning to wonder if maybe he's feeling a little out of sorts as well. In the past he was always on the go. And by go I mean literally; he was always going places, doing things. He's still going and doing but much closer to home except on our away runs. He's no less busy than he was before, maybe even busier if that's possible; it's just a different type of busy. Maybe we're both having an adjustment reaction … another one. As long as we don't start arguing. That I could not handle right now.

I remember when my dad first retired. My mom, who was very sweet and even tempered, threatened to send him to him to the moon with the broom one night after dinner when he tried to improve on her dishwashing technique. Scott's kinda acting like that … like he's retired and just doesn't know what to do with himself even though he has all this other work to do.

Maybe that's it. Maybe we are still retiring from our old life. Maybe we need to go see our old rental properties and the places we used to get supplies from. Maybe if we see how done that old life is, we can get on with this one a little better. Maybe we need closure. I'll think on it some.

There have been some nice things happen today. I need to keep reminding myself that it's not all gloom and doom. A lot of my seeds are popping up out of the ground and if I don't miss my guess I have some thinning to do over the next few days. If I do this right I might be able to replant the thinnings and add another garden area; maybe one just for the kids to learn on. Or maybe I'll pot some of them and tell people to take them home and start their own little gardens to have extra with for snacking or something.

The other wonderful thing that happened today is that Josephine's bandages came off. She can see. Waleski said he doesn't know squat about optometry but since she says that she can see as well as she could before – at least in the dark – we figure things are good. Her eyes are still very light sensitive and she is wearing dark glasses nearly at all times, but she can definitely see. She cried for quite some time while Brandon held her. There is something brewing there and I'm not too sure that Maddie is happy about it. That's one of our little dramas that will play out as time passes.

Another bonus is that Angus gave me the next installment of his narrative. Reading it gives me a bit of the shivers. I'm so glad Scott isn't one to just take off by himself:

* * *

 _The morning the sun woke me up so I headed down to the motel office and as the glass on the door was broken out I just walked in. On the wall behind the counter I saw some road maps so I grabbed one and opened it on the counter. The road the other group was heading down was a nice long one and had some housing developments about 5 miles down from the intersection that I left them. I also saw that there was a set of railroad tracks that passed next to one of those developments. I had another idea._

 _After leaving the motel I headed into an apartment complex that was just down the road and started looking for some transportation. In the back of the complex I found the maintenance building and a blue Chevy pickup, looking inside it was a stick shift and that's what I wanted. It was locked so I broke the back window out and cleaned it enough so I wouldn't gut myself when I leaned it._

 _With most of my front end inside the truck I strained to unlock the door. After getting in the truck I used the butt of the rifle to smash the steering column and then opened my pliers on my multi-tool. Grabbing the ignition rod with one hand I put the pliers over the key slot griping the finger holds and pulled the rod and turned the key slot till it broke free. Once the key slot could be turned to the on position with the ignition rod free to be moved as well I put the truck in neutral and backed it out of its parking slot._

[Note from Sissy: I'd be miffed at him telling the kids how to hotwire a car if it wasn't such a necessary skill to have these days. Sometimes it's the only way to move the larger vehicles out of a traffic jam so that we can clear an intersection. Definitely wouldn't have been kosher before NRS however. But when I asked him where he had learned it in the first place all Angus would do is smile that guy smile men get sometimes that says a lot and nothing at the same time. Honestly. And guys say females like to go all mysterious.]

 _It took a lot of pushing but it did get moving and I was finally able to get to jump start it. And then it died. I jumped it again and again it died. I walked over to the maintenance building and kicked the door open and with a little looking found some gas that was for a lawn mower. Opening the hood and removing the air filter I poured some gas into my hand and then poured that in the carb. I went straight to putting the truck again and this time when I jumped it it spurted a lot but I was able to keep it running._

 _After I put the air filter back on and shut the hood I was off down around a side road and right to the tracks that the map had shown me. There was a nice path for me right along side of the tracks and it looked like I was going to make some nice time. I had one bridge I had to cross and I learned you have to go real slow as the bumping sucks in a truck. It took me about an hour to get to the housing development and the tracks where farther away than I thought as I didn't even see the houses at first but from what I could see on the map this was it._

 _My guess was this was about as far as the raiders could have gotten before dark and so it was a good bet this is where they would most likely spend the night. On glassing the area I could see some movement inside some of the homes but they were just zombies that got stuck inside._

 _After checking the map again it looked like I could stay with the tracks for almost another mile before the road they were following and the tracks I was using split so off I went. I knew it was a bit risky to be doing it this way but they seemed very intent on following this road back at the intersection. It was a good bet they wanted to go north so I'm took the chance._

 _After abandoning the truck and walking towards the road I was half way across a field of some waist high grass when something big flushed out about 20 yards from me and tore a straight line back the way I had come from. I have no idea what the fuck it was because I never saw it but I did know it would probably be a few days before my asshole un puckered._

 _After getting out of that field I swore no more fields and thanked the gods that Jim hadn't been there to see that. I never would have heard the end of it._

 _At least I didn't make some kind of lame girl noise. Sissy makes the oddest squeak when she gets startled. Thinking of Sissy I hoped by the time I get back she was done being pissed about the dogs. Because I told them to guard Big Girl I know that's what they did. I heard plenty when I did get back but at least nothing was thrown at me … nothing heavy anyway. Anybody trying to get to close to Bekah got growled a. No one got bit because they know them all so growling is all they did but no one tested that with those two dogs. Well I thought it was funny at the time but now I wonder if it was worth it. I did worry that I might not make it back and they'd be stuck with the dogs acting that way. But I figured Hell Scott could manage to retrain the dogs; he's seen some of the stuff I do with them._

[Sissy's note: He better be glad he came back. I swear … and I do not make a funny noise … well, OK, I do but it's impolite to mention it. It's also impolite to be the cause of it, smarty pants. I was not amused this morning to find he had found an iguana in a tree outside of Sanctuary and left it in my gardening basket. I don't care if he was just looking for someplace warm to stash it until he could give it to the kids. I'm sure it was someone's pet but that's all I need, a mini dinosaur roaming the house. But of course the kids love it so now I'm stuck with it with the cold blooded thing. I warned every one of them, Angus included, that they were going to be responsible for keeping it fed and whatever else. I will not be cleaning up mini dinosaur poop. I already have enough of that keeping Kitty in diapers.]

 _After walking what seemed like forever in this dang blasted heat they call winter I saw evidence that I had been right about the direction they were going. A little bit of junk food trash that hadn't blown away behind a panel truck and some bloody bandages that look like they used to be a t-shirt. By now somebody's ankle must really be hurting._

 _Just as my ample belly started to tell me it was getting on to dinner time I saw a business area up ahead and as I got closer there was a bar across the road up there and the door was propped open. Staying on my side of the road I went behind the buildings and worked my up till I was across from the bar. The building I was behind was a gas station with an auto repair shop on one end. Looking through the window in the back door I saw that the front bay door was open and so I crept around till I was up front and since I didn't see any one I quick ran inside and into the shadows in the back._

 _I still didn't know if they were inside or if they had just stopped in to check for some booze. I couldn't see inside the bar with my rifle scope because it was too dark but just as I saw a light inside I heard someone laugh and knew I had caught up to at least some of them. It was time to sit back and eat my last MRE I had with me and wait to see if they try to leave or if there's booze in there and they stay the night._

* * *

I'll get more out of Angus another day, for now it is back to me.

I'm sure if I asked anyone if they ever just had a time when they didn't want to be around anyone, not a single person would fail to understand how I felt late this afternoon. As a matter of fact I think a lot of us in Sanctuary are starting to have at least brief moments of this. The opportunity for privacy has seriously disintegrated over the way things used to be. Our family went from just us, to a small mob, to just us plus the kiddos that we adopted, and then back to a large mob of people; we are finally back to being just us. But "just us" is still a lot of people. I don't get time to escape very much. I don't want to get away from people all the time, just every once in a while I would like to have an uninterrupted quiet time with no one calling my name, getting in my space.

I love being a wife and mother but my word, since Christmas it's like always having someone glued to me like a barnacle. They mean well. They need me. I love them. But I'm jittery with needs of my own and no time to really figure out what those needs are or how to fulfill them.

I finally just told Scott that I needed some space and he agreed to take the kids to dinner so that I could stay in the house by myself. The only one left was Spot the Iguana who was hiding in the artificial flowers that were on a shelf near the woodstove Scott had installed in the living room.

I expected them to stay over at the mess hall for a while but they weren't gone very long. It was too chilly for the kids to be out Scott said so he brought them back. I hadn't even had time to figure out what I was going to do to enjoy my space. I had to work really hard not to pout. On top of that he said he was going back out because some of the adults were going to sit around talking.

He just left me with all of the kids from Sarah on down. Everyone else was out at the bonfire. And of course Kitty was fussy and Johnnie and Bubby would pick that time to be in a grump with each other. Sis just made it worse egging the boys on. Sarah and Bekah tried to help but the younger ones just weren't in the mood to be good. I finally roared and made them all go to bed early. I feel kind of bad looking back at it but I just couldn't take it.

Later when Scott came in he was angry because he had come back specifically to give the kids a kiss and tell them goodnight. We came real close to an argument. Then when the blow up was passed he wanted to stay home and cuddle up to stay warm; right when all I wanted was some space.

I feel like there is no place to hide. Tomorrow I'm going to bring up the idea of the women going on a run by ourselves again. Perhaps just getting out and away and doing something a little less … little less … oh I don't know. Something that is just for us women. I know that will mean leaving some of the women behind. There is no way around it. Patricia and Rhonda both are getting a little stir crazy but on the other hand they're doing a bit of "nesting" too and are more content to stay inside the Wall. I feel a little claustrophobic. It used to be that I could go places and do things by myself. Even when I'm in the garden these days there is always someone there. The kids are helping or I'm teaching others how to garden; both are good things and necessary but that is one less place I can go to get away. I don't even have the native fruit grove to myself anymore. Betty and her crew started doing that and I just sort of lost control of it.

Barring an all-women run maybe I can get someone … Angus possibly … to watch the kids for an hour so I can have some peace and quiet. I really am at my wits end and need to find a little control somehow.

Is that it? Is it a matter of control? Is it because I'm being pulled in eleventy dozen different directions all at the same time? Am I bent out of shape because I'm feeling like I'm no longer the master of my own ship? I suppose it's a possibility. Or maybe it's just hormones after all. Oh Lord, if this is just hormones I don't know what I'm going to do if I actually live long enough to go through menopause. I'll probably wind up doing something reprehensible and wind up on some "most wanted" list some place.

I finally broke down and did what I had hoped to put off a little longer. I gave into the guilty pleasure of my canned soda that I had been hiding and saving. With every sip I kept thinking that this could be the very last one ever. I even shed a few tears when the last drops were gone from around the tab. Scott caught me in the middle of drinking it and I thought for sure that he'd have something to say about me holding back supplies. I offered him the rest of the can but he wouldn't let me give up possibly my last one ever.

He helped me to laugh at myself a little which strangely enough helped. He also promised me something though I don't want him to get into trouble doing it. He said he would find me some more sodas if they were out there to be found. I know there are some in the Sanctuary food storehouse but they have been put away for in case the guards need a caffeine jag during a situation.

Between the two of us Scott was definitely not the people person. I did as much of the public relations stuff for him as I could because I knew he really disliked it. I wonder why he is doing better with that now than I am? I actually got up the courage to ask him and he said that it helped him to view the togetherness as necessary for the protection of our family; sort of like a tool. That helps him get through the day when someone does something that irritates him.

He said there wasn't a single person in camp that he didn't think he could get along with the majority of the time, but on occasion some of the men do rub him the wrong way. That's the way it is for me when it comes to Dix. Scott says that Marty used to make his teeth hurt but we didn't want to speak ill of the dead so we just kind of stopped talking about him. We both get irritated by Maddie. Jack strikes me as a little too easily bossed around but maybe that's a good offset for Patricia's need to manage. The problem I had with Rachel was no secret but I don't think there is any more of that going on between the adults. I hope it stays that way for a while.

I guess Scott felt like doing something "against the rules" too. He asked if I could make something he could eat on the woodstove. He was starving. I made sure the doors were locked and the shutters were closed and I broke into our secret pantries. I hadn't been in there in so long there was actually a thin layer of dust on everything. I've got several more months before anything gets out of date so I didn't worry about that too much. I grabbed some flour and corn oil and then locked everything back up and took it to the kitchen where I had the rest of the ingredients within easy reach.

I made Scott and I cinnamon tortillas. You take three cups of flour, ½ teaspoon of baking powder, ½ t. salt, 2 teaspoon of ground cinnamon, 1 t. ground nutmeg, 4 tablespoons of sugar, 2 tablespoons of vanilla extract, and ¼ cup of corn oil.

I started by mixing the dry ingredients together. Then I added the vanilla to the oil and blended in the dry ingredients. Then I slowly added a cup of water that I had warmed up on the stove. I mixed all together until I had a smooth and pliable dough. I made egg sized balls and covered each ball with a little more oil and then set them aside to rest for about 15 minutes. That gave me time to heat up a flat skillet on the wood stove. I rolled each ball to a flat seven or eight inch circle. I then lightly browned each tortilla on both sides.

It was a simple thing to eat the tortillas with a little honey spread on them. That was our mutual guilty pleasure for the night. It wasn't long afterwards that the older kids had started coming in. Melody being walked home by Cease; Rose and David walking home together though not quite hand in hand; James behind both couples rolling his eyes over the "mushy stuff" before grabbing a little extra gear since he had first evening shift on the Wall.

David went straight to bed as he usually has the 2 to 5 am shift. Rose and Melody will likely stay up talking some but Scott and I are off to bed as well. Maybe taking the time for a little "guilty pleasure" every so often will be the prescription I need. I have finally managed to calm down enough to sleep. Tomorrow though, if I start to feel this way again I'm going to borrow back my herbal books from Waleski and look for the tea recipes that help to calm a person. I don't like feeling this way; it's like being on stand-by to fly apart.


	137. Day 173

**Day 173**

Just once I would like to be able to wash my hair or go to the outhouse without hearing someone shout "Momma?!" or "Hey, Sissy, you out here?!" By mid-morning I was about to blow. Well, to be quite truthful about it all of us women were about to blow. I don't know what was up with the kids. I mean all of them from Kitty on up to the tweens. If they weren't arguing and bickering they were snickering and giggling and getting into other kinds of trouble. It was like the sandman had dropped by and sprinkled them all with bad fairy dust during the night.

Possibly we are all suffering from claustrophobia or Spring Fever. This cold weather snap we've had … OK, cold for Florida which means it isn't getting out of the low sixties during the day … must be frying everyone's brains.

After some of the boys started wrestling around in fun and then it turned nasty and they rolled all over the row of seedlings I had just thinned I had finally had all I could take. Bellowing at the top of my lungs – and my normal speaking voice already carries quite a ways so when I say bellow I mean bellow – I called for Scott and told him to either take the boys away and put them to work or I was going to staple them to the Wall with railroad spikes. I got righteously PO'd when Dix tried to calm me down with a "they're just being boys." I could have stripped him, dipped him in sugar water, and tossed him in the nearest red ant pile and it must have showed on my face 'cause he said, "On second thought, I think we'll find something constructive for you boys to do with all that energy to keep you out of trouble."

Uh huh, he better be glad he made off when he did. I told Scott I just couldn't take it another minute. I needed help with these kids. Scott said he could take Bubby, Johnnie, and some of the other boys to help him organize some of the stuff in the work shed but that still left me with the little girls. I was near tears when Angus strolled by and offered to take them. I'm still a little upset about him just taking off for so long without telling us first but I was desperate and I knew he'd give his life before he'd let anything happen to the little ones. Honestly, at the time, I was more worried about him than them. The kids were in just that kind of mood.

It was such a relief just to get some work done. I know Melody was relieved that Trent and Belle were out from under foot. She and Cease had been trying all morning to make plans for their Commitment Ceremony and to figure out which house would work for them that needed the least work done to it over in the new section. That isn't that easy to do with kids tugging and pulling at you wanting your attention. Anne was glad that her two were occupied as well because Lee had finally succumbed to the cold that had been threatening off and on since before we met up with them. She had her hands full trying to get him to stay in bed and rest. In fact, everyone was glad to have the kids doing something constructive so that they could use up whatever the strange energy was going on this morning.

I was really trucking along getting things accomplished and not having to worry about little hands or little feet getting in the way. But then lunch time starts getting closer and I start looking around for Angus and the girls. And I can't find them and don't hear them. Well, let's just say that Angus got more than he bargained for. Did I happen to mention that he had been on guard duty for about half the night?

Angus is good with the kids but they take terrible advantage of him sometimes so I went looking to see if he needed rescuing. It was time for them to come clean up for lunch anyway. I knew he had mentioned that he was going to go do some touch up painting of the Wall containers where the paint had been scraped off by the crane.

They were supposed to be working over near the west guard tower so that's where I headed. Angus had been laying a little low for the past few days as he still wasn't in most people's good graces. A lot of people were still miffed at him for worrying us so much. He's been doing most of the little jobs around the compound that normally turn out to take more time to set up to do than really get done; real day wasters that no one else wants to do. They take him longer to do than the other men because he normally has a hand full of little helpers. Any of the kids that aren't busy helping their parents or don't have chores to do can usually be found "helping" Angus work on something. He has a way of convincing the kids that it's something fun to do rather than work.

Today he was playing Tom Sawyer and had the kids painting. By the time I found them … oh my. Well first there were the girls sitting next to the wall. They weren't exactly painting, more like making pictures on the Wall. About 15 yards away from where the girls were I saw Angus's feet sticking out past a ladder that was on it's side and I could just make out the back of kitty's head sitting there with him. No big deal; I thought they were just taking a break.

Just then the girls came skipping up to me asking if it was lunch time yet. I asked them, "Why are you girls not working?"

They stopped skipping and answered, "Well the baby fell asleep so Uncle Angus laid down with her and then he fell asleep too. We didn't want to wake them up."

I told them to hustle over to the mess hall double time and get washed up and then went over to check on Kitty. Lord have mercy, I never realized how bad Angus snored. I thought Scott was exaggerating when he told of laying awake half the night laughing from Angus making the windows rattle when they had gone on the North Florida Run.

I walked around the ladder and nearly had a fit! There's Angus laying on his back, out cold, snoring enough to makes the limbs overhead shake in the breeze he was creating. And then there's Kitty. Oh … my … word. I didn't know whether to laugh or collapse in a faint. She was sitting there happily painting the poor man's head.

He had his arm around her waist effectively trapping her in case she woke up before he did. He hadn't counted on her not trying to get away and therefore not waking him up. Most of his face and a good portion of his beard where blue. Not baby blue, not navy blue, not some nice quiet shade of cerulean; oh no … bright freaking day glow blue.

Kitty was holding a small paintbrush and had a knocked over can of paint next to her. She was covered in paint as well and was obviously having the time of her life. Then Mayhem walks over and that dog has blue paint on his face too, and really gross blue-ish drool dripping out of his mouth.

Oh dear, I finally gave up and just started laughing. Matter of fact I wound up laughing so hard I was nearly howling. Scott, Jim, and a couple of the other men that had been working on the other side of the Wall come running thinking that something is going on. All I can do is lay on the ground crying with laughter and pointing towards the mess. And Angus just keeps snoring, which of course sets Scott to laughing which finally causes Jim and the rest to start laughing as well.

All the noise finally wakes Angus up but none of us can stop laughing 'cause he hasn't figured out what Kitty has done yet. He gives us such a look and asks, "What the hell's so funny? Someone want to share the joke?"

Good thing that Angus is so good natured with the kids. He wound up laughing nearly as much at himself as we did. It took forever for me to get all of them, including the dog, cleaned up. I finally wound up just chucking Kitty's little overalls since they were getting too small for her anyway and one of the shoulder buckles were breaking.

I do believe that I will avail myself of Uncle Angus' Babysitting Service again … assuming he survives the next encounter.

And he also gave me the next installment on his trek after the pirate raiders. Between what Scott wrote for me and what Angus has given me I've got an idea. I'm going to see if everyone in Sanctuary will write me something to go in the journal. Whoever you future readers turn out to be I'm sure you'll get a better feel for our community if you hear from more than one person. Besides, I get a kick out of reading other people's stuff as well. Helps me to see a different part of our journey and appreciate things in a different light. I'm also going to include clips from Steve's radio broadcasts that are getting to be nearly round the clock the last couple of days. He's not always on but he's on quite a bit. Shorty read some poetry and stuff today that I really liked; not quite mainstream but somehow more apropos than I would have expected that kind of stuff to be.

Anne has promised to write something for me as have several other people. I don't know if Dix or Matt will. They got that "hunted" look like they'd just been ordered to recite something in front of a big audience. We'll see. Maybe after some of the other people write something to tuck into my journal everyone will get more comfortable with the idea and take the time to at least give me a little something. Maybe even the kids will at some point.

* * *

 _Well after sitting there for two hours with nothing to do after cleaning the mauser ( I forgot to clean it last night ) I was just sitting and looking around the garage when I noticed that I was sitting in a nice puddle of transmission fluid. It became apparent when I moved and I wound up nice and wet from my ass right on down my leg. All I could thin was that man the women were going to be pissed at that on wash day unless I remembered to find another pair before I headed back._

 _Twice while I had been watching them some had stuck their head outside and looked around then walked out to take a piss. Since I did see at least one of them twice I gathered they did find some booze in there and were having a few drinks._

 _About an hour after dark set in (couldn't see my pocket watch in the dark ) I walked out of the bay, cut across the street at an angle that I was sure no one inside could see, and worked my way over to the side of the bar. There were no windows on that side of the building so I couldn't see inside. I worked my way up to the front of the building to get a better look. The door was on the left hand side so that's where I went and when I got there I just leaned on the wall and waited._

 _It wasn't too long when someone came out to take another pee as I knew would happen and thank Odin it was only one. Well he walked right past me up to the dumpster that was at the edge of the parking lot and started to relieve himself. I leaned the mauser against the wall and walked right up behind him. I waited for him to zip himself up and at that exact moment I kicked him with a full power kick right between the legs._

 _Now the military guys back at Sanctuary might know how to take someone out quietly for interrogation but I don't know those tricks. What I do know is if a guy gets kicked that hard in junk he's going down and won't have any breath to scream with._

 _I was prepared to cover his mouth with my hands and wait till he passed out from a lack of air, but as luck would have it the second my boot connected to his stick and berries he instantly folded forward and knocked himself out by head butting the dumpster._

 _I picked him up and grabbed my rifle and with him over one shoulder I headed back across the street and down the road. I went back the opposite way they were traveling. About six buildings down there was a Burger King and I know they all have a ladder access to the roof so that's where I headed._

 _I fireman carried the asshole up to the roof and then went back down to get the rifle because I couldn't carry it up the first time. I took the dudes pants off and cut them into strips and made a length that I used to tie his hands around what I think was an exhaust from the cookers inside. After that it was time to wake up sleeping beauty and start part two of my idea on making sure the raiders don't want to come back for round two._

 _I took out my hunting knife and grabbing him by the ear I put the knife behind said ear and cut it off. He woke up, screaming. He must have been having some major crotch problems still because he was coughing and screaming. I took my shelaleigh and smashed his knee because the screaming was starting to quiet down. Then I walked over to the edge of the building and looking over towards the bar I could see from the light inside the building that most of them where outside and looking around trying to see where the screaming was coming from._

 _By the way they were looking around I could guess that the sound from a height and bouncing off the surrounding buildings had them confused. Knowing now that they wouldn't be able to find me without coming into the dark, and with the dead attracted to that kind of noise I knew they wouldn't, I went back to ask some questions of my new friend._

 _I won't talk about the rest of the night as it's not something that needs to be talked about other than to say his screaming kept the raiders from getting any sleep and that's what his job was and it's also why I didn't want anybody else to come with me on this job. The dead did come out but they had the same trouble finding the noise as the raiders did. When I left my friend he couldn't scream anymore and the night was over so as the sun was coming up I left and headed up behind the buildings north before the raiders left the bar._

 _I did stop inside the garage on my way out and grabbed a hacksaw, the raider I took the night before had a double barrel 12 gage shotgun that was sawed off to a 12 inch barrel tucked into his belt. It still had the full butt stock on it so I wanted to cut that down to a pistol grip._

* * *

I think I'll leave the rest to add to my journal tomorrow. It's getting pretty late and my imagination is already going overtime. At first I wasn't sure what to make of what Angus did. I don't blame him but I'm really glad that Scott hadn't gone with him. Scott can be pretty ruthless when it comes to the protection of his family, but regardless of his claim to be calloused and without compassion most of the time the truth is that he's not. Our business gave me lots of opportunity to see that while he could be, he could also be uncommonly compassionate. Most of the time he could hide it by saying it just made good business sense but there were also times where he had to hide how hurt he was when people stabbed him in the back despite all he did for them. I'm glad this is one less thing he had to live with.

I guess what spooks me the most is that is that I can see myself doing something like what Angus did if it meant keeping my kids safe. I worry what I've learned to do to survive may stick with me for the rest of my days, even if there comes a day I don't need it any longer. How do I justify it? How do I live with it? You know, I haven't grieved a single minute over killing and then having to re-kill Samson. I've rationalized it by saying he was barely human the first time I killed him and the second time not at all; but is that healthy? I don't know. And a part of me doesn't care. Which is somehow scarier than what I actually did.

I think there are parts of Angus' story that will have to just stay in the adults' history book. The kids can idolize Angus without learning about the rest of it until they are older. I think James already knows and I can see that he approves how Angus handled it. Scott does too. David ... I think David would have done what Angus did if he had thought of it first and if he hadn't had Rose to consider. David has been through some awful things in life but it's easy to forget it because he seems so well adjusted. He's got a ruthless streak in him though. I found that out once and for all when he and Cease were blowing up the pirate raiders during Raid on Sanctuary.

No matter what others end up thinking I know Angus is a good friend and what he did, he did to protect us all. I hope if called on I could find the same courage to do what needed doing.


	138. Day 174

**Day 174**

Today has been a better day than the last couple of days have been. The incident yesterday where Angus got painted as blue as a Celt added some much needed humor. I think I'm also slowly getting over my funk though some of it still lingers.

Part of it is that Scott has agreed to an "all women's" run so long as we take a couple of guards and Matlock and Dix give it a final OK. You know that sounds so archaic … that the men have to approve something we women want to do. I'm no female serf to a lord and master set up but if I'm honest about the situation, most women are at a physical disadvantage these days. Oh, we can carry our load and then some, but there are a lot of factors that are coming back out of the Dark Ages that we are just going to have to accept … and pray that the men who ultimately survive the changes that NRS causes aren't only of the hormonally challenged, knuckle-dragger variety. I think ultimately it is going to be a real test of our species ... and I say that even having my personal faith-based worldview.

On to something more pleasant to think about, though that too has a bit of concern attached to it. The gardens are doing wonderfully well though I'm a little worried. We haven't been getting very much rain; haven't seen any for two weeks. So far our water catchment systems still have water in them as do many of the pools and it doesn't have to be clean water to irrigate with. David and Scott almost had our well running off of solar power today but the pump motor blew and the well lost its prime. Tomorrow they will try and locate a motor that will work from one of the unoccupied dwellings in the neighborhood and try it again.

If we can get ours up and running then it should be fairly routine to get the other wells up and running … assuming we can get enough juice out of the PV cells. If we can pull that off then we'll try digging our own wells for the mess hall and then shallow agricultural wells for each of the garden areas. We'll always have to maintain a certain amount of alternative capability because solar power can be interrupted. Plus, what if equipment breaks and we can't replace it? So if we can get the wells up and running we'll still keep more primitive options open for our use just in case.

If that accomplishment wasn't enough to celebrate, the new extensions to the Wall are officially complete and ready for the other improvements. The first and second layer of all of the Wall are both fully installed, all of the bolting and welding has been completed and the new guard stations are now in place as a partial third layer. They look sort of like crenellations that castles can have along the top of a wall. And the telephone pole skin is being reinstalled a section at a time, starting at the front gate area.

Speaking of castles, the final designs for the new front and rear gate houses has been completed and Scott has made a list of all of the materials we will need. The entrance roads to both are going to be winding rather than straight with a sharp 45 degree angle right before the entrance itself. It will be a little inconvenient for us bringing any large trucks in and out which is one reason that we are going to build a smaller gated warehouse outside of Sanctuary's gates to house our larger equipment like the dozer and the tractors. We are going to tear up the road some to do all of this and then Kevin Morris has said that we might be able to use the resulting concrete rubble to build even more walls.

We moved the larger animals out into their expanded pasture area and just in time too. Jim led a group out to hunt, but in addition to some game for the smokehouse they also brought back quite a few live animals. Chris, Brian, and Austin all went with him and it was nearly hilarious to see them trooping back with the animals in tow. We now have enough cattle that come next winter we should have no problem having enough to slaughter or trade. We have enough llamas to start carding their fur and if I can figure it out we may be able to start eventually weaving our own cloth. Add sheep and goats to that as well. The pigs were cantankerous so they were crated up and were pulled back on a makeshift wagon. The funniest thing they brought back was another ostrich and a couple of yaks. Jim didn't want our ostrich to get too lonely for its own kind. The yaks were just too placid to leave behind. They actually came of their own accord, hurrying to keep up with the cow herd they had joined. How those shaggy things are going to stand the Florida summer I don't know but I guess we are going to see. It'll start warming up next month.

Jim had taken the boys and gone up to a place in Odessa called "Old McMickey's Farm." It was a petting zoo run by people that had both regular and exotic animals on display. The animals really hadn't had any reason to roam too far from the abundant hay and grass that had been stored in the large barns and silos on the acreage. They were a little skittish of people but all Austin had to do was open a few of the less accessible feed bags and they became much easier to handle.

Austin gave all the animals a clean bill of health – his animal sciences degree is a God send – but he and Mr. Morris penned them up separately from the rest of our animals just to be on the safe side for a few days more. No sense in taking chances.

It was Chris however that won the prize from the kids' point of view. He had a sack he was carrying on his back and my Sarah spotted it immediately because it was wriggling pretty good. Wriggly sacks make me leery so I stayed well back, remembering the iguana incident of not that long ago. I knew he wouldn't give the kids anything really dangerous but when he gave the sack to Sarah and she looked inside and started squealing I nearly re-thought what I thought I knew.

My Sarah squealed, "Cages. We need cages! Cages, cages, cages! Samuel! Ella! Bekah! Come quick!"

Obedient to the call, Samuel ran over and looked in the sack and smiled really big before taking off to the shed we've been using as a storage barn. He came back with a large dog crate and then helped her set the sack's contents inside. The girls were all standing around ooohhhing and aaahhhing.

Rabbits. Rabbits like I've never seen before. Their fur was nearly as long as Angus' ponytail had gotten. (It was longer but I had to trim the end to get the last of the paint out of it yesterday.) Chris said they were Angora rabbits; as in angora yarn and angora sweaters and stuff.

Austin said he wanted to go back tomorrow with a truck and trailer and try and bring back a few more animals. There were some mules, burrows, and a couple of horses that would come in handy as well as a couple of Brahma bulls that would make good breeding stock for the beef cattle. There was some geese and chickens wandering around yet, though how they had survived all of the feral cats and dogs I don't know. There were even two buffaloes that might be persuaded to come. I worried about them bringing the buffaloes though as I know for a fact they can be very dangerous with odd fits and starts. Scott and I had one walk through our camp once in Yellowstone and when I was little and visiting family we went to Kentucky's Land Between the Lakes where they had a display of buffaloes and one charged my dad through the fence for no apparent reason.

Austin said it was cool; if they didn't work out as domestic cattle then we could turn them loose nearby and see if they were a breeding pair and try and get our own wild buffalo herd started for hunting in the coming years. We might add them to the buffaloes that I know were at Lowry Park Zoo and at some of the outlying cattle ranches around here.

That's when I had another one of those shifts in perception. It was reinforced yet again that the way we were living was the way we would be living for quite some time, maybe the rest of our lives. Maybe the rest of our children's lives. Things are so broken right now and the population so apparently low that it will take at least a generation before we can begin to rebuild the infrastructure of the major urban centers back up to support the same kind of population density we had before. Who would have ever given thought to building up a buffalo herd so that we would have something to hunt and eat for years coming?

Of course it could be a totally different story in the mid-west or wherever the central government is these days. I worry about this coming spring and summer when they might try to fulfill their promise of returning to MacDill in some fashion. Steve has said that he's heard some chatter about the government but nothing actually from the government. No official announcements, no mandates, nothing … not for quite some time. That should worry me but right now it doesn't. We'll just have to keep our ear to the ground. The last thing I want to have to deal with is the idea of "resettlement quotas" or government groups coming in to scavenge food and supplies for some other artificial urban area that they've built. Don't want to hear about taxes or the draft either. Enough said about that for now the better though I know that Matlock and Scott have talked about it at length. The next major run we are scheduled to make is to MacDill. I'll guess we might find something more out then.

I've managed to get the next installment out of Angus and I'll put that next. After that I'm going to drop in what Anne gave me. It certainly helps me to see some things more clearly.

* * *

 _Angus:_

 _After a good 15 minute jog (fast walk) up the road there was an intersection. I made a decision and turned left. A couple of buildings down there was a little diner on the left side of the street that had its windows knocked out. I went in and after sitting in a booth next to the glassless windows I could see the intersection very well. I decided that after a sleepless night it might be good to thin their numbers down a little as they were likely to be a little slow to react and having a nice adrenalin rush would cause them a little more fatigue later in the day._

 _I heard them coming down the road before they got to the intersection. Funny how now that there's no other noises you can hear things a lot better than you could before all this happened. I waited till the last of them where crossing the intersection before I shot the first one. Head shot. They just stopped and looked around really fast. Bam - another head shot. This time they knew what direction the shots had come from and one of them was pointing in my direction and he was next bam - this time I didn't have a great angle so I shot him center mass. Three down in 10 seconds. They were gone._

 _I headed out the back. I opened the door to go out and there where at least 4 walking dead out there; wasn't gonna be going that way. I headed back to the front of the dinner and saw a side door for customers so I went there and looked first this time; no dead so out I went. I went around the back of the next building and then the next and then I headed to the front to have a look._

 _Sure enough they where spread out and looking around the diner for me. I heard a scream and two shots fired. They must have found the dead guys behind the diner. I could have shot one or two more but that would have had them chasing me farther down this side road and that's not the direction I wanted to go._

 _I just watched and after a little while they started to head back to the intersection. I saw mister ankle standing (or leaning) down at the intersection waiting for them and as they were leaving one of his buddies gave him an arm and around the corner they went._

 _I saw that a little farther down the street there was a little music store. I wanted to give them a little time to get up the road, and I wanted to look at my street map so I decided to go in the music store. Man to say the place was trashed is an understatement, everything was knocked over and Cd's were all over the floor. The front windows were smashed out and the back door was open so there was plenty of light inside. I walked over to the counter as it was the only thing still in place and opened my little road map._

 _It took me a little while to figure out exactly where I was, I really don't know Florida at all but I found it. I had noticed that since I started down the north road after this group that the cars had been moved out from the center of the road and I guessed it was the way they got their trucks down to our area. Looking at the map I saw that 2 miles up there was a major intersection that would have a straight way west and if I had to bet I would bet that the roads are cleared on the west road. That was where I had to head._

 _Even though I had decided to go and meet them farther down there way I sat down on the counter and pulled out the hacksaw and the shottie and started to shape the pistol grip. The blade was like new so the cutting went fast, then it was time for the knife to round over the edges and make the final shaping. Once that was done it was time to go._

 _I headed out and went down my side road about 6 blocks till I came to a creek or canal or whatever they call these damn water ways down here. It was only about 20 feet across even though the banks where steep (they dropped down about 8 to 10 feet.) But the second I looked at it I remembered where I was and there was no way I was going to cross that dang water. Here there be dragons! Or gators which were just a toothy._

 _I headed north and followed the water way till I came to a little road that crossed the water. After crossing I had to look at the map again to reorient myself and headed off and turned right at the next cross road. I was going through a residential area, all little houses in a row, and then I saw another bike on the side of a house. This one was some kind of dirt bike and a little small for me but I could ride it._

 _I felt a little silly with my knee's pedaling so close to my chest by it was faster than walking. The breeze that was blowing was at my back and about as fast as I was moving, what this did was let me know exactly how bad I smelled and that was pretty bad right now. Another thing - this dam little itty bitty bike seat wasn't doing me any favors. Another couple of turns this way and that and I was close to where I guessed I would see my prey again._

 _As I turned on the last road I saw a damn big black snake crossing the road and on an impulse I headed to intercept. I got to the snake just as it got to the side on the street and ran over its head or neck - bump._

 _I got off the bike (and it took me a second to stand straight again) and I bashed its head in with the butt of the rifle. The freaking thing was near 6 foot long. I have no idea what kind it was, but I cut off it's head and carried it with me by the tail to drain it. I decided to walk the rest of the way; dang little assed seat._

 _At the last house on the block I could see the road across a field. I went over to that last house and grabbed two wooden pallets that where next to the little garage and dragged them over to the spot that I could see the road and started a fire so I could cook my snake lunch._

 _If I had to guess the snake that Angus ate was a black racer or maybe a black tobacco snake. I've never seen a racer over five feet long but tobacco snakes can get even longer than that. I hope it wasn't a cottonmouth. Crazy man; going after a potentially poisonous snake like that with a bike and the butt of a gun. I swear sometimes he thinks he is bulletproof._

* * *

Here is Anne's entry. I really like her. She's classy and spunky at the same time. She's certainly no shrinking violet. Between her, Saen, and Patricia I thought I was going to wet myself laughing today. Anne is naughty. There is just no other word for it, but in a funny and harmless way. OK, semi-harmless and really funny. All the kids thought we'd lost a few bricks from our load but it has just been such a relief. This just reinforces to me that a girls' day out is much needed around here.

I'm not the only one that needs it either. Tina could use a confidence booster. Becky is itching to prove she is up for it as well. Betty and Reba don't appear interested though they said they would send us with a list of things that they would like to have. Rilla and Reba's oldest daughter on the other hand are nearly as raring to go as I am. We'll have quite a crowd going I think which should mean that we can do quite a bit of gathering.

* * *

 _Well, Sissy went around and asked everyone to write down their story so here it goes. I'm actually glad that she asked us to do this. At the same time it forces me to sit down and actually think about what happened. This whole time I've just been going and going and trying to keep the kids safe that I haven't really had the time to let things hit me._

 _I'm originally from PA, but my husband's job brought us to OR a few years ago. When things went crazy on the west coast, they went crazy FAST! My husband's family is from OR and CA and we lost contact with them quickly. Portland was fucked. (Sorry for my language, I've recently learned that Sissy hates it, but I have the mouth of a sailor. I try to curb it around the kids anyway...) There was no reaching his family. I don't think Lee has had a chance to think much about what that means either. I know it killed him to leave, but we needed to think about our kids._

 _We made it to the airport and Lee's connections got us on a flight out of there. I had talked to my dad before we left and we were trying to get back to PA. That obviously never happened. We ended up stuck in fucking Florida of all places! Previous to this I had been to FL once, when I was 17 or so with my boyfriend at the time and I had hated it. I always said it was where old people go to die...who would have guessed I would be so damned thankful to be here now!_

 _I haven't heard from my family since we left. I have it in my head that they are Ok, I have to keep thinking that. But from what I've seen...I can't imagine how any of us are still alive. My poor kids. Ella is so sensitive. When this virus or whatever the hell it is first hit, Jesus I was so afraid for them both, but especially Ella. She keeps asking about grandma and grandpa. I just keep telling her we will see them soon, I really hope I don't turn out to be a liar._

 _We have been wandering around for what seems like forever. I really can't even put down in words how grateful I am for this place, Sanctuary they call it, and it is. I mean, I'm sitting here writing! Writing for fucks sake! Just a few days ago, there was no time to sit and write or sit and do anything except keep a look out for more zombies or crazies (and there seems to be plenty out there...we saw one guy at the fairgrounds who thought he was some kind of freaking King) and now here I sit, and the kids are playing! I thought I would never see Ella smile again. She is so excited to have so many kids around her, and animals! She used to watch animal planet all the time before bed and would tell me that she wanted to be a zookeeper or a vet. Damn, that seems like forever ago._

 _Ray couldn't be happier either. He's become good buddies with little Johnnie and Bubby. They are like the mini 3 stooges. Ray has a speech delay; he had been in speech therapy at preschool and was doing really well. When this zombie bullshit came to be, he went through a period where he stopped talking all together. It was only for a few days, a week tops, but it broke my heart. He's a tough little guy though and Ella is an awesome big sister. I really thought that being as sensitive as she is that she would lose it during all of this, but she instead became Ray's little protector. I have no doubt that she is the reason he started talking again. And now that we are here, and he's around other little ones...well, he won't be quiet! I love it!_

 _We started out with a small group, but people can be so stupid! It was down to just my family in only a few days, and don't get me wrong I feel bad for what happened to them but it made it a lot easier on us. So many people have this false sense of entitlement these days, and it didn't end when the shit hit the fan. Let's just say that when food is low, don't EVER think of taking my child's food out of their hand. I'm not going to put down what I did to the guy, I'm new here and I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea about me. Just understand that this particular guy had almost gotten us killed the day before and that wasn't the first time. And as much as I try, I don't feel bad for what I did. No one even asked where he was afterwards._

 _But that was then and this is now and now is fucking glorious! I mean, aside from the zombies outside the wall. But compared to where we were just a few days ago...Can I tell you how awesome showers and clean clothing are? And the food! I honestly don't think I ate this well when things were normal! I really want to pull my weight around here. I know they were hesitant about bringing us here and I have a feeling the only reason they did was because of my husband's mechanical skills. Something about the way the one guy's eyes lit up when Lee mentioned it. But I want to make sure they feel good about me too. I don't have any real skills, but I am willing to do whatever the hell they ask me! And I know Lee is anxious to show his worth too._

 _Well, I hope this is what Sissy had in mind. If not, she seems like the type of lady who will have no problem telling me. haha!_

* * *

Wow, the insights when we get a chance to see things through other peoples' eyes. I had no idea that Anne worried about pulling her weight. She's doing fine. Anyone willing to work is welcome but it sure doesn't hurt that she is such a spitfire. We've run into too many that weren't willing to work. It still makes me grind the enamel off my teeth to think about those refugees from Hale Hollow. And I don't blame her at all for whatever it is she did to the guy that tried to take food out of her kids' mouths. Who am I to judge after the things that I've done for the same reasons?

You'll never guess what Scott gave me tonight. A box of 12 sodas. He had found them squirreled away in the back corner of the grocery store that he went to today to measure some of the rolling doors in the back. We might be using them as part of the gate houses. He was looking for some that were a little bigger but the chains and gears could be useful. He had tripped over some debris that was in the corner of the bay and when he went to catch himself he leaned over and saw them just sitting there.

I was so happy and Scott was happy that he made me happy so we split a soda between the two of us. Caffeine has no effect on Scott, he fell asleep in the middle of telling me about the rest of his day. I'm sitting here jagging out. But, I'm gonna put away this journal and turn off the lamp even if I'm not sleepy. Scott is snoring up a storm so I need to roll him over, but I'm going to sit up for a while and listen to Steve's broadcast on the wind up radio.

I sent Steve word today that we planned to make pizza in a few days if he and his group wanted to stop by for a picnic. Dix said that he sounded tempted but not to count on him just yet. Maybe we can get to know his group better if I get to know Shorty. I've got several recipes she might be interested in and now that I have all these extra little plants … well, it's something to think about. Perseverance is the best game plan I can come up with.


	139. Day 175

**Day 175 January 22 (Monday – Wash Day)**

I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever drink caffeine right before my bed time again. I probably need to write this about a hundred times over. I was up after three in the morning. I simply could not get to sleep. I was so awake, and with nothing constructive to do, that I transcribed a bit of Steve's radio broadcast. When does that man sleep anyway?

* * *

 _This is Steve's Midnight Music and talk Show. I am broadcasting from the beautiful campus radio station high atop which ever damn building this is called. The last tune you heard was Phish—"Back on the Train"—from my favorite studio album of theirs called "Farmhouse". It's about 3AM and since there's no one up but me and the undead—it's story time boys and girls of this brave new fucked up world._

 _In the background we have a little mellow tune going called "Fragile", by the renowned Nuevo Flamenco guitarist, Jesse Cook. Jesse, if you're alive out there—I still want to see you in concert._

 _The great thing about having your own radio station is you get to play all the damn songs that you never heard on the air on commercial radio. There used to be a radio show called "Audiosyncrasies" on PRN that I loved to listen to when I was cruising around in my patrol car. I hated when I'd get fucking calls during that program. There was another show with this old jazz horn player, I forget the name of the show but his name was Jim Davis. He had the greatest stories to tell about life on the road—reminded me of the two years I spent in drunk and stoned in Nashville pretending to write music and playing open mic and writers nights._

 _I digress. Sorry folks, but that's what you get at god damn three AM._

 _Word going out to Sanctuary, Junior is fine and back up and running. She wants to come over for a play date, but not until she gets her chores done. Also, does anyone there play music? She wants to play with a band. She's tired of my three chords. Thanks for all your help, guys._

 _Okay, requests for music comes in on channel 30 on the CB and for you ham operators its 5330.5. All others please call the operator for your connection to Steve's Midnight Music and Talk Show. Here at the MMT Show, we like to hear from the living._

 _Next up in the music category is one of my favorite little known artists, Buckshot LeFonque with "The Blackwidow Blues". Stay tuned through the music for more musings of a mad man…._

 _…Okay we're back. I got a message from Jacques Mertens who says he's adrift in a 34 foot Olsen sailboat. He got stuck in the doldrums somewhere between Jamaica and St. Kitts. He's low on water and his diesel is just about gone, but he hopes tomorrow will bring rain since the barometer is falling steadily and he's getting just a hint of wind. Jacques says that if Margo is listening, he loves you._

 _*clears throat*_

 _Okay, for Jacques I have a song—here's Ottmar Leibert, "Adrift in Tangier"._

 _Back again. That last tune was actually Adam Ant, "1969 Again", from his solo album "Wonderful". I think we'll just let that album play while I talk._

 _Speaking of wonderful, we found a crate of fucking sardines. Not a case, but a crate of cases. Now some of you might be saying, Steve, what the hell are you going to do with a crate of sardines? I say to you out there, have you ever heard of Bagna Calda? A dream dip made from sardines with butter, lots of butter. Here's how you do it._

 _*paper rattles*_

 _1/2 c. butter_  
 _1/2 c. olive oil_  
 _10 anchovy fillets_  
 _1 can boneless sardines_  
 _6 garlic cloves, mashed_  
 _1/2 tsp. fresh ground pepper_

 _Heat the olive oil in a small saute pan, add the butter, anchovies, garlic and sardines. Simmer together 10 minutes, mashing ingredients into oil - butter with a fork. Serve with cut vegetables as a dip, such as artichokes, tomatoes with basil, or spread on Italian bread and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese just before grilling._

 _Yeah, butter might be hard to find these days, but you make do, you know? If anyone out there wants to trade for sardines, give us a call, once again CB channel 30 and 5330.5 for the hams. We can set up a meet._

 _By the way, I like pizza. If you have the making for a pizza, I'm willing to travel._

* * *

I'm thinking that his last statement might have been an acceptance of our invitation but I leave that to Dix to tell me for sure.

I was so desperate by midmorning for something to help me stay awake that I actually drank a cup of coffee. I laced it pretty heavy with powdered creamer and sugar but it still gagged me. I will admit that it helped get me through the day but I am dead dog tired and so ready to crawl into my bed that I might actually fall asleep finishing up my nightly "to do" tasks.

Today was laundry day. That's never fun but at least the breeze that blew all day dried everything more quickly than usual. I couldn't stand it anymore and washed everyone's coat. That was a heavy, wet mess but it really needed doing. They were starting to stink up the coat rack out in the carport. Scott's, David's, and James' in particular were very malodorous. The men do their best to bathe everyday but with all the work they do ... especially the work out in the animal pen ... their clothes and they both stink to high heavens. Thank goodness for their coveralls. They save me a lot of work.

Jim led another hunt today and this time Angus went along. Austin stopped them from killing the turkeys they saw so that they could be brought them back and added to our poultry flock.

Forget the buffaloes. Those things are mean and probably too big for us to manage. Angus said the ! # #$!#$! things charged the truck they were in twice, once he had to climb up on the cab to avoid being run down. The look on his face when he said this was so full of outrage that I had a hard time not laughing even though I know he – all of them – had been in quite a bit of danger. In the morning Mr. Morris and some helpers will be butchering most of the castrated hogs that we now have. It's probably not going to get much colder so this is as good a time as any to do it, plus those hogs are big enough and all they'd do if we let them live would be eat 'cause they can't exactly add to the population any. We need another big hunt over to Busch Gardens and Lowry Park Zoo but I have no idea when we'll find the time.

Angus was a little grumpy about not being able to bring down a buffalo and bring it back but they did bag a bunch of quail and we made Fried Quail in Onions for dinner. Here is the basic recipe. We had to really piece it out to get everyone fed and had several side dishes as well. I made up a large batch of pilaf and Betty made a batch of greens.

FRIED QUAIL WiTH ONION GRAVY

30 quail, cleaned  
Salt  
Pepper  
All-purpose flour  
8 slices bacon  
2 cups peanut oil  
1/4 cup all-purpose flour  
1 cup water  
2/3 cup minced onion  
Dash of garlic salt

Sprinkle quail with salt and pepper to taste; dredge in flour, and set aside. Fry bacon in a large skillet. Remove bacon, reserve for other uses. Add peanut oil to drippings in skilled; heat over medium heat. Add quail; cook 10-12 minutes on each side or until done. Remove quail from pan; drain on paper towels. Reserve 1/4 cup drippings in pan. Add flour to drippings, stirring until smooth. Cook 1 minute, stirring constantly. Gradually add water, stirring well. Add onion and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until thickened and bubbly. Stir in 1/2 tsp. salt, 1/8 tsp pepper, and garlic salt.

Well, I know that I haven't personally made much of a contribution to my journal tonight but I'm pretty rolled up. Can't close yet though before I include the next installment from Angus. The more I read of his adventure the more I realize how much he has been editing it for the kids' sakes.

* * *

 _It had been two hours and they hadn't gotten there yet. They should've been. Unless they were moving a lot slower than I had thought. It could've been that they were more tired than I was. I tried resting with my eyes closed and then started myself awake, that was too relaxed._

 _When I was glassing around the area I saw that the westerly road was cleared of cars like the north road, I was right. I took note that there was a restaurant farther west of me, not an upscale one in this area but a nice sized one still. Next to it and closer to me there was what looked from my postion to be a store that sold washers and dryers as I could just make out some in the window. Of course that got me to thinking about the jeans I had on and how far gone they were._

 _That stain from the garage was still wet, tranny fluid never seems to dry. And I had blood all over the front of them that had dried and added to the what I started to think of as the stink that is me. I actually smelled so bad that I wanted to walk away from myself. There was a clothes store a little east of where I was, it looked like one of those that sold to the hipsters of the area. I thought maybe I could find a new shirt in there later. Across from me was the field and the 100 yards of tall grass had me thinking of that unpleasant butt tightening I had from the last field. Across the road directly in front of my position was a construction site, some shopping center that will never get build._

 _There wasn't even any building material on site; they were still doing the excavating when they walked away from the job. A couple of backhoes, some stacks of corrugated piping stacked by the road, and a office trailer; not much to look at but interesting enough that I had decided to wait a bit longer here instead of heading east to see what might be holding up my pray._

 _Many of the younger guys back at the compound would be running all over the place scouting this area and that. My running days are over, I'll leave that to the youngins. Ya the little ones, I reminded myself to see if I could find some massive amounts of candy before I headed back. I thought the supply would make a great distraction to move the women's attention away from me and after the wired kids. Candy had saved my hide more than once._

[Sissy's Note: The candy was a distraction, at least for a little bit. The rascal. Made me wonder how many times he had used that ploy before and gotten away with it.]

 _Finally I saw them coming. They were moving slower than before, and being very quiet. There were watching their back as well as every place else. I could have that. They might ruin everything._

 _I picked up my little piece of wood I'd been carving on, just a length of skid about one inch thick and a good 3 feet long. I made a notch near the one end and then I put a pebble in the notch and I used it to throw that pebble down the road in their direction to land in a little parking lot on my side of the road. There are no cars in the lot from my vantage point so the sound just sounded like a rock bouncing off the asphalt._

 _They heard it. After stopping and looking all around a bit they started moving again. Another pebble. This time they stopped for longer, one even edged closer to the lot but didn't see anything. I let them get about 40 yards past the lot and sent another pebble. Now they were moving along and they were all looking over their shoulders at the lot. That's a good bunch of ass holes, there could be a demon some where over there, keep alert._

 _I had a great vantage point from the moment I saw them but I wanted them right in front of me. There was one truck and four cars pushed to the side right in front of me and I wanted them behind them when they found out I was over here._

 _Aat the compound there are many that might not like what I did, not that they would like any of what I have done. Maybe someday they will see that it was necessary. When they got ( most of them ) to where I wanted them I shot the lead guy right in the side of the head - spray - then I shot two more before they dropped behind the cars._

 _They started to shoot back even though they hadn't found me yet. They were 400 yards out and most of them were shooting shotguns and hand guns. Did they really think they were doing any good like that ? Idiots._

 _Well I looked over to the construction site and my thinking was right. On the far end of the site there was a group of 11 walkers just milling around because they had wandered onto the site through a section of downed fence and didn't know how to get out. The fence was the temporary type that stands on plates with the sections clamped together, any group of kids could knock it down and now there were a group of dead coming straight towards the sounds of gun fire and that fence wasn't going to stop them._

 _I shot two more in the head when they popped up to shoot in my direction; they did see me at last. I shot at the hoods of some of the cars just to keep them focused on me and then the fence came down._

 _The raiders still hadn't seen them as they were still behind the stacked piping but that was going to change fast. Around the pipes and then the first dead reached the raiders. Eleven dead against almost two dozen raiders, and then there was me. My money was on me._

 _The raiders forgot about me once they noticed the zombies, so I shot 3 more and then started trotting across the field. On my way I swung the mauser over my shoulder and drew my .45 and took it in my left hand, sliding my bashing tool out of my belt and into my right hand. It was a nice plane from where it started, but 400 yards is a lot farther to run than to think about._

 _I was huffing when I got there and there were plenty of bodies down, both raiders and walkers. I ran down the line and bashed both dead and soon to be dead. The zombies weren't affected by the bash too much as I can't put too much behind the hits as I run but it does stun the raiders which gives the dead a second to bite or grab._

 _I shot three raiders on my run down the line but that was the last ones. I had forgotten I was holding it. (pulled a sissy)_

[Sissy's Note: Uh huh. "Pulled a Sissy." Do you know that Matlock and Dix have started using that phrase when training people on how to (and how not to) use their firearms?! I've also heard the phrase used to mean looking for something that is in plain sight … like looking for your glasses only they're on top of your head, or a tool that is already on your tool belt. It's so nice to be a part of the new slang of Sanctuary. One of these days … one of these days …. ]

 _I dropped the club and the .45 and swung the Mauser up and with everyone within 20 yards there was going to be no missing. I shot the raiders first (in the head) except for one dead that came at me while I was doing the clean up._

 _I was shooting the dead that were eating the raiders when I got hit in the back of the head. It made me stumble forward and hurt like hell. I spun around swinging the rifle with one arm like a bat and - crunch- got mister ankle in the side of the head. He went down. Quickly I turned to the dead, there were three left but they wanted to finish eating and didn't get the chance._

 _I would have let out a call to ODIN (for fun) but my freakin head had a stinking knot growing on it and it was bleeding. Mister dumb ass started to make some sounds. Wasn't dead, I was seriously thinking of using him to send a message. He had really pissed me off so ya he got to send a warning._

 _I walked over to one of the raiders and slid out his machete (not as nice as sissy's) and walked over to dumb ass and with him laying there starting to come around I moved his hand flat on the road and in one chop cut all his fingers off of his right hand. He woke up._

 _Grown men crying, I slapped him in his bloody ear ( the mauser ) with the flat of the machete and told him to shut up. I told him he was free to go home and to tell the others that I was going to rest up, find some new clothes and then come and kill them all. He never said a word, just cried softly and stared at me. Then he left, clutching his hand to his chest and hobbling mostly on one foot._

 _Shit,I must be getting soft because when I saw that he wasn't going to make it I shot him in the back of the head with the .45 and put him out of his misery. I searched the bodies and found two canteens mostly full and half dozen shells for the shotty, other than that nothing I wanted._

 _I swung the machete around and looked at it thinking Sissy likes these things? Then I dropped it and said out loud na, I like me shalaylee. Then I started heading to the t-shirt shop. I saw an advertisement in the window for unitarian kilts ? I'll have to check that out._

* * *

Angus has just about reached his tolerance for writing things down. He's getting itchy to get busy. Luckily day after tomorrow a bunch of them are going to go check out MacDill to see if there is anything worth the trouble to bring back. If he can slow down long enough for me to catch up with him before then I'll see if he'll just dictate the rest of his story to me.

And I'm so loopy right now I'm just going to go to bed. Scott can catch up with me this time.


	140. Day 176

**Day 176 (Tuesday)**

 _Mom is sleeping. She has tried to keep up with her chores today but it has really tired her out and she was in enough pain that she let Dad give her a Darvocet even though she'd been saying no to one all day long._

 _We had a minor accident this morning during the pig butchering. A frame they were using to hold the pigs up to drain the blood out collapsed and fell on her foot. Luckily there was no pig hanging on it at the time or Waleski said it would have broken her foot. I suppose before I go too much further I should tell you that I'm Rose Kathryn Chapman. I'm the oldest daughter of Scott and Sissy Chapman and I guess it is my turn to write in Mother's journal. She asked me to anyway._

 _Waleski had Melody and I over at the pig butchering as an exercise to see if we could identify all the major organs and other internal parts. I got most of them and Melody got all of them correct. Even though I was disappointed to have missed two of them, Waleski said he was still happy with my progress considering I've only been able to used drawings and books to learn from since most human corpses are too dangerous to use because they could be infectious. I've had other practical training on advanced first aid practices, but nothing as advanced as what we were doing this morning on internal organs._

 _Mom will be all right. It's just that her foot was mashed between the metal fence post and a concrete slab everything was set up on. It is a bruise as opposed to a sprain or break._

 _She wasn't saying anything at first so none of us realize she was hurt. Everyone was just trying to pick up the pieces of the frame and see if Mr. Morris was hurt as he caught a glancing blow from one of the other poles._

 _It was Daddy that noticed how quiet Mom was being. She was just leaning her head on a tree with her eyes closed. When she didn't answer him the first time he called her name that's when the rest of us figured out something was wrong._

 _She actually slapped Waleski's hand when he went to touch her. Mom has issues with personal space. She's touchy-feely just like the rest of us in our family, but it's more like she gets to choose who she gets touchy-feely with. Boundaries are something Mom takes seriously. She only lets some people outside the immediate family inside her personal space and Ski didn't give her any warning that he was going to grab her. Dad usually holds her hand or something when Ski is examining her. Dad said he's lucky that a slap on the hand was all he got from Mom. I've seen her actually kick out at people that startled her by touching her when she wasn't prepared for it._

 _I asked Dad once why Mom was like that and I think it's important to put down why Mom sometimes acts the way she does. If she reads this and objects to it being in her journal then she can white it out or something._

 _Mom was sick a lot as a kid. In fact, it wasn't until she was out of adolescence that she stopped being sick so much. Because she was sick so much she had to go to the doctor a lot. My grandfather was in the military so that meant that when Mom had to go to the doctor, she had to go to whatever base hospital that Pawpaw was stationed at. That also meant that she rarely saw the same doctor twice because they came and went so frequently; and back then Mom said a lot of the base hospitals weren't really set up to deal with kids too much, at least not the way doctor's offices and hospitals are set up to be kid-friendly these days … were set up to be kid-friendly. The hospital was a scary place and she was always getting touched by people she didn't know when she didn't feel good._

 _Anyway, Dad said she developed a complex about people that didn't have her permission touching her all the time. When you are a kid you don't have a whole lot of say-so over who can touch you and who can't, especially if you are sick. Sometimes all of that stuff can carry over to when people grow up. That's one of the reasons I was interested in being a pediatrician. I didn't want other kids to go through some of the stuff that my Mom had to go through._

 _I don't guess I'll ever be a real pediatrician now. I'll probably never be a real doctor of any kind now. But that doesn't mean I've lost my opportunity to help people. I plan on learning as much as I can, for as long as I can, however I can … and from whomever I can. I miss Rachel but I don't miss the problems she was having with Mom. It really hurt my feelings when I found out she really didn't care for Melody and I as much as she acted like. She was just using us and that's all I'm prepared to say about it. It's done and over with and I just want to forget about that part._

 _Plus Waleski is a better teacher than I expected. Rachel used to laugh at him a lot but he really knows what he is doing. Mom says that Waleski sometimes has "a crisis of self-confidence" and that we should take it easy on him because he is under a lot of stress. He used to scare me until I realized he's a lot more like Dad than you might think. He is sarcastic, short-tempered, and can sound really mean but once you get to know him you realize it's mostly because he takes everything so seriously. Mom keeps telling him that he is going to go ball headed from stress and from pulling at his hair in frustration all the time. Rilla is helping him with that. It's really strange to see Ski leaning on Rilla's shoulders or carrying Ty around on his own shoulders._

 _Mom says that Rilla is good for Waleski. I think she is right. He certainly isn't as grumpy all the time as he used to be. Even when he is stressed he doesn't go all super sarcastic the way he used to._

 _I'm not sure if I'm ready for that kind of commitment yet. I'll be 18 years old in June but I feel older; except when it comes to David. I'm glad Mom or Daddy isn't trying to pressure me one way or the other. I like David a lot. I'll even admit that I love him. I'm just not sure what kind of love it is yet. And I don't want to stop learning how to be a doctor yet, even if I never get to actually be one._

 _Mom wanted me to transcribe Uncle Angus' story, but in all honesty his handwriting is worse than Daddy's. Mom doesn't seem to have any problem reading it, but then again she can read Daddy's handwriting better than Daddy can a lot of the times._

 _I feel bad that I can't do what she asked me to but there just isn't any way. I asked everyone else in the house and no one could read his handwriting. It looks like a cross between chicken scratch and hieroglyphics. To make up for that I'll tell a story about Uncle Angus instead._

 _After Waleski said Mom's foot probably wasn't broken he made her soak it in this big bucket of warn water with Epsom salts in it. By the way, Waleski made us look up the correct scientific name for Epsom salt and it is magnesium sulfate heptahydrate. It's made up of 10% magnesium and 13% sulfur. It works because the body readily absorbs the magnesium. When your body is under stress, you deplete your magnesium. Absorbing magnesium slowly through a soak of some type is better than ingesting it or by taking supplements because too much magnesium depletes your potassium levels._

 _Mom was supposed to be in charge of all the kids today. It was her turn so that the other women could get a break. We all try and take turns watching the kids because there are so many of them. She had these lesson plans written up and she and the kids were going to play Huckleberry Finn. Melody and I said we would take them instead but Waleski wanted us to finish inventorying and stocking all of the equipment and meds that were brought back from the medical run._

 _Uncle Angus wound up saying he would take the kids for us. Uncle Angus is a little crazy but like Daddy says, he is as loyal as the day is long and treats all the munchkins like they are his real nieces and nephews._

 _After lunch Melody and I had finally had about all we could take of looking at meds and answering Waleski's quizzes about what each medication was used for, possible adverse reactions, and what family of medications it belonged in. Easy enough for him; he had the answers in his lap from the PDR. If he doesn't have this stuff memorized I wonder why we have to? I'd never be so disrespectful as to ask him, but I still wonder why._

 _Melody was lonesome because Cease was on duty. I really like Melody, she's practically a sister and the closest to my age in the whole compound, but I'm getting a little tired of talking about her upcoming marriage and how they are going to do everything once they have their own house. I hope even if David and I do wind up getting married that I never get like that. I mean it's nice, but I'd like to talk about something else besides the guys, you know? David did say Cease is almost as bad as Melody about doing that so I guess they really are in love. I asked Melody why she just didn't find Trent and Belle and go do something at the house she had picked out to get her mind off of Cease._

 _Only see, we couldn't find Trent and Belle. We couldn't find any of the kids that Uncle Angus was supposed to be watching. We figured the most likely place they would be playing would be over in the orange grove. Melody was afraid Uncle Angus would get the kids in trouble. How she could live in the same house as long as she has with Johnnie and Bubby and not realize that it was probably Uncle Angus we should be worried for I don't know._

 _When we found them we just sort of stood back to watch and see what they were doing. They were sitting in a circle and there was an old Easter basket full of candy behind him. Poor Uncle Angus, I could see where Mom had to trim the blue paint out of his hair that wouldn't wash out._

 _In the center of the circle were two of the kids. I couldn't tell who at first because they were wearing all sorts of different sports padding and hockey goalie masks. Not to mention they were holding trash can lids as shields. They had what looked like tennis balls stuck on top of sticks. I honestly didn't know what to think of what was going on. The first thing that did pop into my head though was that Mom would have a fit._

 _Melody said, "This won't end well for anyone involved."_

 _I saw we weren't the only ones watching this bizarre situation. James had come up on it from the other direction and since he had his rifle over his shoulder I guess he had just come off of guard duty. Well just then the two crazy kids dressed up like weird gladiators charged each other. One yelled out, "BATTLE!". The other just ROARED and they came together with tremendous clash of ball-sticks smashing each other's shields._

 _Oh brother. Uncle Angus was teaching them to fight Viking style. Now I knew that Mom was going to have a kitten. Uncle Angus kept saying things like "shields up," "not so close," and "watch your feet."_

 _Then one of the kids yelled, "ODIN!" and landed a loud hit on the shield of his opponent. Then the other kid yelled, "FOR THE GLORY OF THOR!" and counter attacked._

 _James was shaking his head and I was thinking Uncle Angus might not live till night fall if Mom or any of the other mothers showed up. Melody looked like she was going to have a conniption right there. Trent looked like he wanted his turn really soon and Belle was acting like a little princess about to offer her knight a favor._

 _Then Angus called a break and told them to get a drink of water. They pulled of the face masks and I saw for sure, just like I had known it would be, that it was Johnnie and Bubby all dressed up and going at it._

 _Now I knew Angus was dead meat. James had that wicked look on his face like he couldn't wait to fluster Mom and get her all hot and bothered. I don't know why he likes doing that so much. He laughs at the noise she makes but Daddy said one of these days she's going to shoot the messenger and he won't find it so funny anymore._

 _Then Bubby asked Uncle Angus, "What's the best god to ask for help in a fight." I thought Melody was going to faint right there. She said, "Your mother is going to kill Angus. She's going to kill him very, very dead."_

 _But I think Uncle Angus may have realized at that point that he had started something those little mimics were going to get him finished over. I could hear him say, "Oh boy, now I've done it." and he told them to sit down._

 _James was still leaning on a tree with an amused look on his face. See, we know Mom. She doesn't begrudge other people their religion or how they want to practice it. She figures that is between them and God. She may not agree with them but she isn't going to sit in harsh judgment of them. She'd rather discern than judge even though I have a hard time understanding what the difference is. But at the same time she is cutting other people slack, she expects the same consideration from them about how she and Daddy do things._

 _Angus lifted Kitty off of his lap and I realized Mom must have really been hurting to let him just walk off with her after the blue paint incident. He sat her down between himself and one of his big dogs. I think it was Mischief because she was looking kind of fat. Austin said she is definitely going to have puppies, but she still has a few weeks to go._

 _Then Uncle Angus said, "Look guys, religion is a very important thing, but it's something that's between you and your parents ok? It's one thing to yell out to ODIN when you're playing, but you can't start praying to old Uncle Angus's gods, ok?"_

 _There were a couple of "why nots?" but I don't know from who; I was trying to keep Melody from hyperventilating and giving us away._

 _Just then I saw Kitty had that club Uncle Angus always has in his belt and she was holding it up over her head. Of course it really is too big for her to hold up long. It came down right on the dog's paw._

 _That's when things got really, really funny. It was like one of those old black and white movies that didn't have any sound except for the pit orchestra that played sound effects._

 _The dog let out a loud yelp, then jumped up and away smashing its head into Uncle Angus's face. Uncle Angus clamped both of his hands over his face while throwing himself backwards which threw his legs out kicking the other dog in the head. That dog jumped away landing on top of Bubby and Johnnie knocking them both over backwards. Kitty was just sitting there laughing and very pleased with herself._

 _The little girls who were there started to laugh and giggle at Bubby and Johnnie who were trying to get out from under Mayhem and not having much success and Uncle Angus was just getting to his knees holding one of his eyes with the other eye watering like crazy._

 _Bubby didn't like being laughed at and yelled at the girls to "shut up" and waved his ball-stick club at them. Uncle Angus must not have liked the tone that was being used and started to crawl over into the kids putting himself between them to keep them from fighting for real._

 _He was saying something but I couldn't hear what. All of the kids were making an awful racket by that point. The girls certainly weren't going to take that from Bubby. En mass they charged Bubby and Johnnie got caught in the crossfire._

 _The girls outnumbered the boys by a significant number. They swarmed over and around Uncle Angus and one of them stepped on his hand on the way to get their pound of Bubby's flesh. Now Uncle Angus was holding one hand over the eye that the dog had smashed and the other hand he was using to hold himself up got squashed._

 _It must have really hurt because he pulled the hand up to his chest with a loud "awk!" which left him with no hands holding him up. As the girls buried Bubby and Johnnie and the other boys, Uncle Angus went down face first into the ground. His mouth was open where he was trying to calm the kids down and he got a mouth full of grass and dirt._

 _Uncle Angus came up off the ground with such a roar that the clump of grass in his mouth shot out a good 6 feet. That roar stopped everything. When Uncle Angus roars it is more than a little scary._

 _James had been moving forward, I guess to stop the fight, but he stopped dead in his tracks too. The kids were all just staring at Uncle Angus, waiting to see what he would do. He was breathing really hard like Daddy does when he's on a temper plus his eyes were bugging out; one was bloodshot and showing a bruise and both of them watering like crazy. His mouth was hanging open with grass sticking out of his teeth and mud drooling from the corners of his mouth. His face was coated with sand that was sticky to his sweat._

 _Bekah, one of the few who had had the good sense to stay out of most of it, was standing there with her hands on her hips with her head cocked to the side giving Uncle Angus a look just like Mom would have if she had come up on them acting this crazy._

 _Uncle Angus blinks a couple of times when he sees her doing this and then points right at James and yells, "Intruder!"_

 _James spun around looking behind him but didn't see anybody. That's when Uncle Angus said, "Get him by the knees!"_

 _Bubby and Johnnie hit James at the same time behind his knees and he started going down. But James played football and it was going to take more than a couple of five years old to take him down. Then the rest of the kids hit James and he didn't have any choice but to go all the way down. James is really strong, but there were over a dozen kids swarming him._

 _Uncle Angus pulled James' gun out of his hands as he went down. James' eyes were really big and he looked like he was still trying to figure out what was going on right as he was completely buried under a horde of giggling kids. As Uncle Angus was walking away I heard him say, "James, it's about time you acted like a kid again."_

 _Part of me felt sorry for James but another part of me was going, "Yeah! Payback time!" I love my brother but he can be a real pain. He acts like he is older than I am sometimes. I know Mom misses how things used to be and I know she gets sad when she thinks about it too much. I wish James was more sensitive about that. When he gets older he'll understand. And he'll miss what he lost only by then it will be too late to get it back._

 _Sometimes I wish we were back to the way things were before. I sure wouldn't complain about Mom telling me that I should take the time to be a child while I had the time. Because once you aren't a child any more, you miss the lack of responsibility and innocence you used to have. I wouldn't want to grow up as fast as I remember wanting to grow up so I could have my own life. It's a lot easier when all you have to do is what other people tell you to do. When you become an adult you have to start making the hard decisions all on your own._

 _Hopefully Mom will be able to write in her journal tomorrow. Journals are OK, but all this soul-baring is kind of embarrassing. I'd just die if anyone read my own journal. It's not that there is anything in there to be ashamed of, but it's like it's no one's business but mine. I like to keep my private thoughts private._


	141. Day 177

**Day 177 (Wednesday) – MacDill Run**

I'm all better now. Well, mostly better. My foot is still plenty sore but I've been worse. I guess I'm lucky the pole didn't hit me in the head. That's one of the medical situations we haven't had to deal with yet; serious head trauma. At least not with our own people. We've put some serious head trauma on plenty of zombies and got a couple of pirate raiders like that as well.

Rose is so funny. I guess she kept expecting me to say something about what she put in the journal last night. I think I surprised her by not being condemnatory. She's close enough to eighteen and I think she deserves the right to have her own opinions. We expect her to take on the responsibilities of being an adult, or close enough to as makes no difference, so we should at least be willing to give her some respect when she acts that way.

I wasn't as angry about Angus and the Viking School as they probably expected me to be. Oh, I didn't like the religious issues but I can't wrap the kids in cotton wool and expect nothing to ever touch them except what I deem appropriate. That's a pipe dream. I mentioned it to Angus and he said he'd watch it with the kids. He understands … and a lot more than I think some give him credit for understanding. Just because he is big and brash doesn't mean he doesn't have a sensitive side as well. He'd probably have a fit though if I was to come right out and say that however. We women know how to leave the men their illusions.

Today was the big run to MacDill AFB. Dix had been wishy-washy about me going in the first place, as had Scott, but my foot injury knocked me off the list going completely. Since they didn't know what they would be facing, most of the women stayed at the compound.

The ones going were Dix as team leader, McElroy, Scott, David, Samuel, James, Cease, Clay Jr., J. Paul, Glenn, Angus, Lee, Chris, Brian, and Austin. They took the tractor trailer, the F350, Juicer, and one of the buses. That was one more vehicle than they had wanted to take but with 15 going they would need room to ride, but they would also need room to bring back anything they found. Matlock is getting anxious about fuel but the tank in the orange grove is full, all the vehicles are kept topped off, and we have the better part of two full tankers that were found at the train yard.

We built a methane digester to harvest methane gas to run the farm equipment but that's still a couple of weeks away from the testing stage. If it works though, Scott and McElroy think that they might be able to build an energy plant to create electricity for at least a few of the buildings here in Sanctuary. That's going to take a much larger number of farm animals than we have right now. The horses and cows … and pigs too … are basically poop factories. But even that's not enough to create that much electricity if we are trying to make fuel too. I read the book that Brandon found on the subject and it took about 1800 cows from a dairy farm in Wisconsin to create enough electricity for 150 homes. That means for each home we would need about twelve cows; more if we used smaller animals like pigs. That's a lot of livestock to feed and keep up with. We have to prioritize our time and resources so fuel comes first, after that we'll work in efforts to create a biomass capable of producing electricity.

The men off on the run have kept in radio contact all day today. Dix finally rigged up a big enough antenna that we don't have any more problems regardless of the weather or the distance or just about anything else for that matter, at least so far. Powering the transmitter & receiver eats up the juice so we don't run it all the time. The radios in the vehicles have been upgraded and have better antennas as well.

The road conditions weren't too bad for them this morning until they got over to the Bayshore area. They traveled over to Fletcher Avenue with a brief stop at Steve's compound before heading over to 56th Street. They went south on 56th Street until it turned into 50th Street. They cut around the railroad yard and it still looked undisturbed which was a bit odd considering how many survivors that Steve is beginning to hear from. The mess started in the Channelside area. It looked like someone had tried to take over that part of the Port as part of a territory and someone objected, or wanted it for themselves. Lots of rotting corpses … the kind that aren't up and walking around … lay all over the ground according to their report. All parties in what looked like a very pitched battle had vacated the area so it was clean to move through but they had to move the concrete barricades that were blocking the road to do so.

The next obstacle was the downtown area. Incredibly the fire that had plagued our first run downtown looked like it was still burning, or re-burning the area. Or perhaps this was another fire started by whoever had battled for Channelside. It's not unusual to see dark plumes of smoke on the horizon any more. We keep a watch on them to see if they start spreading but we don't panic like we used to. The lack of a fire department means that stuff is just gonna burn. And when it burns its going to burn things to the ground. So far though there haven't been any more large conflagrations like the Big Fire now several months in the past.

The debris on the road was very bad. In places it looked like someone had just started pitching office furniture from as high up as they could get. Scott said it looked like destruction for the sake of anarchy. It worries me when Scott starts waxing philosophical because that generally means that things are worse than he is able to just come right out and say.

Dix reported a suspicion that there is a survivor group over on Harbor Island but that they had blown the bridges. Whether they are the types of folks we want to get to know is debatable. Davis Island appears to be a total loss. The bridges were blown to it as well but Dix said that destruction looked to have more precision to it, perhaps done by the military or military contractors in the early days of the NRS overrun. Using binoculars they could still see a significant number of zombies roaming freely, especially around the Tampa General Hospital parking garage and all around inside the hospital itself.

Bayshore Blvd was just awful. Cars had taken out the seawall sidewalk. All of the houses that faced the bay, every single one of them multi-million dollar homes and condos, were trashed beyond trashed. Most had fire damage, some were practically razed to the ground. Debris littered the roadway where cars didn't block it.

They slowly traversed Bayshore and then picked up Interbay Blvd to get to the main gate at MacDill AFB. What a mess. Bodies of the dead littered the area. All buildings in any proximity to the base's fence had been bulldozed or fire bombed. Burned out hulks of cars prevented the use of the actual gate completely. The vehicles turned back towards the bay, followed the fence, and came up to the old Bayshore gate area. That corner of the base, where it abutted water, had been compromised at least once. Foundered and capsized boats were visible all up and down the watery boundary of the base for as far as the eye could see.

MacDill AFB is on a peninsula. The boundary is more shoreline than dry land. This was good for base operations, bad for defending against attacks by water. And not all of the attacks came from pirates. It looked like some of the boats were pleasure crafts being used by people just trying to find a safe place to hide from the zombies.

So far our group has been very disappointed in the base itself. Nothing substantive appears to remain. Calling the pull back from the base an evacuation oversimplifies it. It looks like any usable or salvageable equipment has been removed. All the vehicles, those that hadn't suffered catastrophic damage, are gone. All ammo, all weapons, all food, all computers, all everything it appears. It took them most of the remainder of the day to canvas the entire base. They didn't find squat.

How they got everything moved out the way they did is a wonder. Dix said it was probably a combination of using helicopters to move stuff to ships sitting off shore as well as loading it up on air transports and flying it directly to wherever they were pulling back to.

They'll bunker down on the base tonight and come back by way of some parts of town we haven't visited yet. South Dale Mabry Hwy, the airport, Town n' Country … much will depend on what they find in the area immediately surrounding the base early tomorrow.

Today was fairly uneventful except for a small group of zombies, around a dozen in number, that tried to gain entrance through the back gate area. Three of them were wearing the remnants of Tampa Police uniforms. Melody was extremely upset for a while but Waleski got her busy and it took her mind off of her father. I don't know what I would have done if Scott simply never came home one day. As awful as it would be, I'd rather know for sure than spend the rest of my life wondering.

I've been meaning to tuck this story by James in for some time now. This happened even before the Raid on Sanctuary so it might be old news but I want to keep it for posterity … or for hysterity even though I know that isn't a word. Let me preface this by saying that Scott really does like Angus but the man does have a way of getting people riled up. Scott and Angus are OK now, but for a day or so Scott had a very difficult time not letting his Spanish temper blow. I remember James giving this to me but I misplaced it in all my papers somehow until I opened one of my herbal books this afternoon.

I'll keep in mind that this is my sixteen year old son, and try really hard not to censor it as much as I want to. It also highlights how badly we need to keep up on the dental hygiene to prevent more problems like this from occurring.

* * *

 _Mom said to write down something for her journal. What I'm supposed to write down I don't know. I don't have a lot of time. I hate writing anyway. Why can't we find a manual typewriter for this stuff? I guess I'll write about what happened the earlier today._

 _I was running beside Jim and we were headed to the last pool in the group of pools that are being kept as clean as possible so we can harvest water from them that only has to be processed a little bit to make it potable. We were running as fast as possible and hoping we weren't too late. I just couldn't believe that crazy guy. How can I like somebody so much one minute and then feel like I wished he'd go on a trip far, far away the next?_

 _Angus. Man, he can drive Mom crazy too. Dad usually says that there's no harm in him, but that wasn't what he was saying today._

 _Jim didn't say a word, didn't even say anything when I ran over to the guard station to tell him, he just waved to someone and took off at a run with me along side. I can't blame him for getting tired of his tooth ache, my braces used to drive me batcrap and I thought about ripping them out of my mouth but I never actually did it. For one thing, Dad paid an arm and a leg to get my teeth straightened and he'd have taken it out of my hide if I had messed the braces up on purpose. All I can say I'm glad I don't have braces now. I feel bad for all the kids my age that still have them on and there aren't any orthodontists any more._

 _I had heard that Jim had a tooth that was going bad. Then in the middle of dinner last night he bit into something hard and cracked it. There was some very fast cussing after that, at least that's what Dad said. Hardly anyone else was able to understand what he was saying; it came out of his mouth so fast. I knew some of the adults understood because some where trying not to laugh. Mom covered Kitty's ears and then bopped Johnnie and Bubby on the back of their heads when they started to repeat what Jim was saying. Man, when are those two ever going to learn? Mom has eyes in the back of her head and ears like a rabbit._

 _Jim absolutely refused to let anybody have a look at the tooth and even refused to let Ski try to remove it. Mom said some people are like that and to leave him alone about it. She's the same way about people touching her. And she has hated going to the doctor or dentist my whole life._

 _You might wonder what Jim's tooth and a gator have to do with one another, but I'm getting to that. I still don't believe what Jim and I had both been thinking, but Bekah said Angus had been drinking so anything was possible._

 _Apparently Brandon had been doing the rounds with the pools, doing some checking and adding chemicals and when he got to the last one he walked over to check the water and got his fright of the day._

 _We live in Florida. You hear these kinds of stories every day; or we use to. And there are gators in the canals around here 'cause sometimes they'll eat someone's dog or cat and then animal control gets called out while some old lady cries hysterically that a gator ate her Fluffy or Fufu or whatever._

 _Well, a very large alligator was sitting at the bottom of the in ground pool that Brandon had gone to put chemicals in. The men decided to try to remove it because they didn't want to let the pools go back to the wild just yet. The problem was everyone was busy so they were going to go the next morning and if it was still there get it out and fix the fence that it had knocked down to get into the pool._

 _One of the men asked Dad to send Bekah to ask Angus if he would go with them tomorrow and help. Mom started it, using Bekah to ask Angus to help with this or that. Anything he might not jump at to do right away. She said it was payback for some of the things he's done. Now everyone is doing it. See, Angus can't tell Bekah no. She could probably ask him to wear a flowery hat and apron at a tea party and he would do it. OK, so she got me to do it once or twice too, but that was a looooong time ago. Unfortunately Mom has pictures and she uses them for blackmail. Someday Dad is going to have to beat the boys off with a stick or tie a big dog to her wrist to keep 'em away. I'll probably have to put some of them on the right road too. Bekah looks a lot like Mom – not as much as Sarah does – but she has Dad's eyes. And she knows how to flutter those eyes too and she'll sucker you in before you realize it._

 _Well Bekah went and found Angus and told him that Dad wanted his help to get the alligator that was in the pool. She said that's when she saw the hooch jug (that's what we call the stone wear jug he hides the shine in)._

 _She told me she was sorry for being there; Mom says none of the kids are supposed to hang out with Angus when he's drinking. She forgot that it was a no-Angus day because she got asked to find him. She said that's when Angus grabbed the spear he made and headed off at a run bellowing DRAGON! We had found the spear head in that house that had all the animal trophies in it._

 _So there I was running after that crazy drunk with Jim trying to get to Angus before he did something really, really stupid. Cause if it didn't kill him, Mom probably would. We wouldn't be doing this if he hadn't been drinking. I found out something that is supposed to be a secret; I heard Mom and Dad talking about it. Angus is terrified of the water._

 _Or I should say what lives in the water (sea monsters) he calls them. He says if you can plant your feet firmly on the ground you can fight anything. But how can you fight something you can't see? He doesn't go near the water; won't even go fishing with the kids except from the shore. Guess he wouldn't have made it with Leif Erikson with that kind of attitude. Don't they have big bodies of water up there in Pennsylvania where he is from?_

 _Mom and Dad say he's a happy drunk (when he does drink, which actually isn't all that much cause he isn't allowed to play with the kids if he is drinking) unless something sets him off, or he gets excited about something. Then the crazy takes over. Daddy nearly laughed himself sick the last time Angus climbed up on the Wall and kept a watch for dragons. Well Angus had been drinking, and Bekah did set him off. I just knew the situation wasn't going to be good._

 _As we got to the last house where the pool was we didn't see him, not a good sign as we didn't pass him on the way. We didn't hear anything ether. Also not a good sign, if he had passed out we would hear that Gawd Awful snoring of his._

 _I'll admit I was a little scared. No one wants to look at someone that has been chewed on. I get enough of that with the zombies for Pete's Sake. I didn't want to go any farther; I didn't want to see what I was afraid I would see. I wasn't mad at him anymore; I just didn't want him to be here._

 _Jim waved me to stay where I was and he walked into the backyard through the fence._

 _"NO!" I heard Jim yell and I ran after him not caring about anything anymore. Jim was using a pool skimmer to drag Angus to the edge of the pool. The water was red , pure red with bubbles and foam around the edges. He said, "Give me a hand mate."_

 _I helped to pull Angus out of the pool; he was face down. At first I didn't think we could do it, he's as heavy as Jim and me combined, but we dragged him out of the water and into the yard. Jim and I both never took our eyes from the water, expecting a gator to come flying out at any minute._

 _With Angus still face down Jim started pushing and pumping his back to get water out and then rolled him over and checked for a pulse. Just as Jim was going in to give him mouth to mouth Angus coughed and his second one sprayed water out. I rolled him on his side so he wouldn't choke and started to pound his back. Angus turned his head to me and grumbled, "What you trying to do, break my ribs?! Back off kid."_

 _Angus was still spitting out water and Jim rolled him over again and then started running his hands all over his body trying to see about any injuries he had. Angus swatted his hands away, "Dude I know you miss your lass but you can't be acting like this in front of the boy."_

 _Man. Angus can be so crude. I think he does it just to give me a hard time. I know my face had to be hot enough to fry an egg. Jim just shook his head. Angus was still drunk as all get out. Then one time when Angus swatted Jim's hand away one or the other hand hit Jim in the mouth and he was holding it in pain, I could see it in his eyes._

 _Angus asked, "What's wrong with him?"_

 _I told Angus that Jim's tooth still hurt and he still won't let anyone look at it. Without saying anything Angus hit Jim in the mouth with a right cross so hard it sounded like he broke Jim's jaw._

 _Jim fell back and was laid out flat. Less than a second later Jim was up and from the look on his face I thought he was going to kill Angus. I was just about ready to holler for Dad cause I sure wouldn't have been able to pull the two of them apart if they went at it._

 _Angus was trying to get up but was so drunk he was having trouble. All of a sudden Jim straitened up and got an odd look on his face, he looked like he was swooshing something around in his mouth and then he bent over and spit a bloody tooth onto the ground. He straightened up and with a smile on his face he said, "Thanks mate" and helped Angus to his feet._

 _Right as I was wondering if they were both way passed crazy Dad and some others showed up. Everybody was looking in the pool and nobody said anything. On the bottom of the pool was a big gator, at least 11 feet long. That would mean it was about 1,000 pounds and it wasn't moving. Then I saw what my dad was pointing at._

 _Sticking in the gators head was that spear Angus had made. Jim said he must have just jumped in with the spear leading and put him on the spit. Then held on till it died, or till Angus passed out from holding his breath too long._

 _Jim was the only one smiling, everyone else looked kinda hacked. Angus was laying flat on his back snoring, passed out cold. Dad told me to help them get the gator out of the pool and he told Jim that getting that idiot back home was his responsibility or he could just roll him under a bush; he didn't care which. Dad was pissed._

 _Dad usually thinks Angus is funny, whether he is sober or drunk. But not this time. Angus better be glad he was too drunk to hear Mom. I think she made the paint peel. She threatened to scalp Angus. When she started talking about testosterone poisoning and turning some roosters into hens all of us men decided it was better if we went somewhere else until Mom cooled off._

* * *

OK, so I get a little hot and bothered every once in a while. I have my my mild days and I have my extra spicey days. Scott says he wouldn't trade me because I've kept his life interesting. He's no angel either for that matter. We both have our spicey days.

I got Angus back a few days later. I found a baby alligator and put it in his bed. You could hear the ruckus he made all over the compound. He was snorting and gibbering but in the end he was a really good sport about it. I'll give him that, he can take it just as well as he dishes out.

I guess I'll hit the sack. I've got early watch and while it's not as cold as it has been, it's still brisk before the sun comes up. Hopefully our crew will have more luck finding something tomorrow; something that's worth all the fuel they are using.


	142. Day 178

**Day 178 (Thursday)**

Ce – le – brate Good times ... tonight!

That one is probably showing my age. OK, so the song is a little corny but it's been a real good day all around. The guys hit the jackpot and could have used several more people and the other bus and trailer. They managed to pack everything in but Cease, David, Samuel, James, Clay, and wound up having to ride on top of the vehicles. They had stuffed everything everywhere including in crates strapped to the top of the bus.

First thing this morning they got up and after a last disgusted review of the base they left. The men were pretty depressed and had some seriously low expectations about the trip being worth the fuel they had spent. They headed out into the residential areas immediately surrounding the base hoping to maybe pick up a few odds and ends, but very close to the base was trashed. Their goal was to pick up S. Dale Mabry Hwy and ride it all the way back to our side of town, stopping intermittently along the way if something looked interesting.

Dix took a sharp turn into another residential area startling the other drivers after spotting something he deemed potentially interesting. He pulled up to a house that had a large American flag on a conspicuous flag pole. Immediately below that flag hung the black POW-MIA flag;, both flags were tattered and weather worn. McElroy and Cease gingerly lowered the two flags and folded them to bring them back to Sanctuary to give them an honorable retirement, something we had all taken to doing with flags that had been damaged or dirtied in some way. All around the house were remnants of rotted corpses.

The lawn had been a well-manicured masterpiece but times had returned it to the wild. The dead and dying St. Augustine grass crunched under the feet of those who followed Dix up to and through the picket gate that only stood upright because it clung tenaciously to one hinge.

Up on the porch they found storm shutters across all of the windows. The front door had been ripped off of its hinges but rehung at some point, and was barred from within. There were no signs of life so Dix had David and Clay Jr. break down the door while everyone else prepared for a response that never came.

The inside of the house was immaculate, or would have been except for a layer of dust that covered everything and the mold and mildew beginning to creep around the window sills and up from the base boards. On a desk in a small library loaded with books on military history sat a picture, a brass plaque, and a ship's log. The picture was of a distinguished looking elderly couple, the plaque read Col. Adolphus Pettry, and the last entry in the log was as follows:

0500 HOURS

IT'S BEEN A WEEK SINCE THEY EVAC'D MACDILL. WITH NOTHING AT THE BASE TO KEEP THE ATTENION OF THE INFECTED FIXED, THEY MOVED THROUGH THE SURROUNDING CIVILIAN NEIGHBORHOODS LIKE A HOT KNIFE THROUGH BUTTER, NOT THAT THERE WERE TOO MANY STRONGHOLDS LEFT BY THEN.

DESPITE IT ALL MARY AND I WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE AS I'VE SPENT THE LAST 30 YEARS PREPARING FOR TEOTWAWKI. MARY CALLED IT MY LITTLE HOBBY, TELLING THE LADIES IN HER BRIDGE CLUB THAT IT KEPT ME BUSY AND OUT FROM UNDER HER FEET. NOW ALL THOSE CACKLING OLD BIDDIES ARE DEAD. MY MARY IS GONE NOW AS WELL. WHAT'S LEFT IS A MONSTER THAT WEARS HER FACE.

MY PERIMETER DIDN'T HOLD. WE LOST A SHUTTER OFF OF THE BACK DOOR AND ONE REACHED IN AND BIT HER. SHE TURNED QUICKLY DESPITE US IMMEDIATELY DUMPING DISINFECTANT AND EVEN BLEACH ON THE WOUND. I HAD HER LOCKED IN THE BROOM CLOSET UNTIL I WORKED UP THE COURAGE TO DO WHAT HAD TO BE DONE.

IT WAS THE CUT ON MY HAND THAT'S DONE ME IN. WHEN WE WERE TRYING TO CLEAN MARY'S WOUND, SOME INFECTION MUST HAVE ENTERED. I WOKE UP FROM A FEVERED NIGHTMARE TO A HAND THAT WAS LIFELESS. ALL NIGHT I'VE FELT THE SICKNESS CREEPING UP MY ARM AND NOW I'M SEEING SPOTS AND HAVING TROUBLE BREATHING. I TRIED TO TELL MYSELF IT WAS JUST BLOOD POISONING AND TOOK SOME ANTIBIOTICS I HAD SET ASIDE FOR EMERGENCIES BUT MARY – OR THE THING THAT MARY BECAME – TELLS ME DIFFERENT. IT NO LONGER TRIES TO BITE ME. IT IGNORES ME COMPLETELY.

I CAN'T PUT IT OFF ANY LONGER. I KNOW WHAT MY DUTY IS. FIRST MARY, THEN MYSELF.

WHOEVER FINDS THIS, TAKE WHAT YOU WANT WITH MY BLESSING. MARY AND I WILL BE FINE WHERE WE'RE GOING. AL JR. DIED BACK IN '90. LORELEI STORMED OFF WITH THE SONSABITCH SHE MARRIED BACK FIVE YEARS AGO AND WE HAVEN'T HEARD FROM HER OR THE GRANDKIDS SINCE. BAD SEEDS.

ONLY REGRET I HAVE IS I NEVER QUITE GOT AROUND TO TAKING MARY ON THAT SECOND HONEYMOON I ALWAYS PROMISED HER. NOW IT'S A DAMN SIGHT TOO LATE AND THEN SOME.

TIMES A WASTING. GOOD LUCK AND GOD SPEED.

Dix brought the Colonel's log books back and we've started a Remembrance Room in one of the rooms at the library. We aren't being morbid but it's a true fact that you'll never figure out where you're going if you don't know where you've been.

The kitchen and one of the three bedrooms of the house were filled with canned goods, bottled water, and survival equipment including a stash of antibiotics and a surgical kit. One of the bedrooms was filled with enough guns and ammo to make even Dix grin.

Our group emptied the house of anything useful, including the full propane tank attached to the back of the house, and then did a quick canvas of the neighborhood but they didn't find much else of immediate use.

From there they headed along a side road on the way to the intersection of the Crosstown Expressway and S. Dale Mabry. It was a warehouse surrounded by NRSC as well as civilian vehicles. Non-animate corpses littered the area. Some of the vehicles and corpses were also burned.

It was apparent that the place had acted as a fallback position which had subsequently been overrun, possibly in the same time frame as Col. Pettry's home. The warehouse was vacant except for a few shamblers who hadn't managed to escape via the two doors that were open and swinging lazily in the breeze.

Empty of life and pseudo-life that is. The small warehouse was also littered with tubs, and crates of non-perishable food, medical equipment, and all sorts of other stuff including several generators that look like they'd never even had time to set up.

I overheard David telling Rose and Melody … and Waleski once he heard what was being said and got nosy … that one corner of the warehouse had been set up like a hospital ward. There were cots and equipment and even what appeared to be a surgery. There was some old, dried blood on the surgery curtains and some of the beds had obviously been in use at one point, though the occupants were long gone save for one whose remains were so far gone it would have taken an ME to determine whether it was male or female. But seeing as how it still moved a bit, Dix ended its existence once and for all with a hammer blow.

The guys brought all of that stuff back whether it was sterile or not (except for the bloody stuff which thankfully didn't find its way home) and it is sitting in boxes over near the hospital. The girls and Waleski will be busy tomorrow trying to sort it all out. After reading Col. Pettry's log I hope Ski has enough sense for all of them to be wearing gloves, but supposedly NRS doesn't last long outside of a host body. I hope that remains true, but I still like the idea of them taking biohazard precautions. I didn't think to ask at the time if our men did, but I know we all normally wear gloves when we are out gathering. Hopefully they used the same commonsense practices we've always tried to use.

Everyone was at first surprised at the lack of ammo and weapons within the warehouse but on closer inspection there were a few weapons lying around under debris both inside and outside the building. The weapons found outside the warehouse are useless and weren't even worth bringing in for parts. The state that the weapons were in confirmed that the battle, whatever its nature, had happened months ago. The weather and other elements had thoroughly ruined them. The weapons inside the warehouse were a mixture of salvageable-as-a-whole and salvageable-for-parts, but there still weren't as many as the number of vehicles and stuff inside would suggest there should have been.

Dix hypothesized that they shot their load and then were overrun. The lower number of weapons than expected was probably because those left standing retreated to another location. The fact that the warehouse remained relatively intact likely meant the retreat had been no more successful than the perimeter at the warehouse had been.

The men spent the rest of the morning trying to load everything into the vehicles they arrived in. None of the vehicles surrounding the warehouse were recoverable for immediate use. They had to make do with what they had brought with them.

After leaving the warehouse they headed further north on Dale Mabry Hwy. A lot of the buildings and businesses immediately adjacent to either side of the road received some damage but not all of them. Some had obviously been looted at some point. Between Euclid Ave and Bay to Bay Blvd every building had a large, spray-painted X on the door. The X was over damage so likely was done after the major rioting that occurred. The large number of zombies along this area prevented a good survey but it appeared that every business or building with an X had most of its inventory removed.

They continued traveling on Dale Mabry, using parking lots and grassy right of ways when the highway was too congested for the larger vehicles to pass. After Kennedy Blvd Scott said things started getting interesting again. The X's had disappeared and the number of zombies fell. They stopped a few times but only picked up some non essential items; enough to be worth the stop but not enough for them to stop any more often than they already were. After passing under the I275 overpass things got messy again. Home Depot, Target, Kmart, all of the strip centers on both sides of the highway appeared thoroughly devastated. The destruction, we assume, is a result of the widespread rioting that occurred after quarantine was announced but we don't know for sure.

One building did stand out. Home Depot looked like people had tried to use it as a defensive position or tried to hold it for their own use or something like that. Now abandoned cars ringed the front of the building including a burned out hummer that had a machine gun mounted. J. Paul said that it looked to him like it was an M2 mounted and since Dix and McElroy didn't seem to say it wasn't I'll assume he is correct.

All that weapon talk still sounds like Greek to me. I know I should take more of an interest but in all honesty … great big yawn. I'll leave it to the guys. I don't need a number or nickname on a weapon to know that guns can make deadly holes, big and small. If a gun is so powerful it will put me on my butt when I try to shoot it, it is too much for me to handle. I've been working my way up and even managed to practice shoot a shotgun with 00 Buck without killing myself or anyone else in the process, but it's not a weapon that I would want to handle on a regular basis. Although, I will admit, it does make a pretty mess out of zombies.

Bypassing that major shopping district they next came to the Raymond James stadium area as well as HCC. You can tell both of these places were used as staging areas for the NRSC. What an ungodly mess. According to Scott every building on the HCC campus looks like it has sustained extensive fire damage. Fallen tents and destroyed vehicles and trucks in both military green and NRSC black were everywhere. As far as the stadium itself, it had been attacked with some major artillery or at least several major explosions of some type with what remained looking eerily similar to the ancient Coliseum in Rome.

Our men had to completely detour around the area using Columbus Ave and Martin Luther King Ave and then Himes Ave bringing them uncomfortably close to the large campus of St. Joseph's Hospital and its associated women's hospital, children's hospital and sundry other medical offices. The whole area looked like it had suffered a blitzkrieg and Dix was in no mood to stop and take unnecessary chances to paw through the debris. We aren't that desperate.

Al Lopez Park also received extensive damage with large oaks uprooted and great chunks missing from the parking lots. But James swears that as they passed Jesuit Highschool he saw some survivors peeking out of windows. Why survivors would choose to live in such squalor in the middle of that much devastation is beyond me. He won't give it up though, he thinks that maybe it was kids his age taking refuge in a place they thought would be safe and now they are stuck there. I'm not sure what to think but that's as good an explanation as any if they were indeed people living there.

Between Hillsborough Ave and Idlewild Ave road conditions improved and destruction minimized. But the X's returned. Then it was back to destruction when they passed the community hospital annex between Sligh and Hamilton avenues. Not coincidentally the number of zombies also rose requiring Juicer to get a little messy. The X's on the buildings continued all the way up to Busch Blvd and then they just stopped. Not another X was spotted between Busch Blvd and Van Dyke Rd. We can take that to mean one of two things. Either whomever is scavenging through the buildings hasn't claimed any territory beyond the intersection of Dale Mabry Hwy and Busch Blvd or they just haven't gone any further north yet and will eventually make it over to our area of town.

Dix has proposed that we immediately begin daily Runs along Dale Mabry Hwy starting on "our" end and see whether we eventually meet up with the other group. That will take a lot of people out of our normal chore schedule and will delay some of the major building projects that we had wanted to accomplish like the front and rear gate houses. I'm not thrilled with the prospect, but what the heck am I supposed to say? It's true; we need to get this done as soon as possible.

We've already made a start by going through all the businesses along Dale Mabry between Van Dyke and Bearss Ave. We can also cross off that list a lot of the big stores like SAMs, Super Walmart, Super Target, and Home Depot. Of those places only Home Depot had anything worth salvaging and not much at that which we did way back when. Although, now that I think about it, having some of that empty commercial shelving might make inventorying and storage of all the stuff we currently store in the steel containers more efficient. We could number the shelving and then notate on our inventory sheets where it is supposed to be making supplies much easier to find than the system we currently have.

Scott told me weeks ago that Michaels Craft Store didn't look too bad. It's one of the places that I've been trying desperately to get on our Run list. Men just don't see the value of a craft store I guess. Scott is sympathetic but not enough to push the issue on my behalf. There is also a children's consignment shop in that strip center and also a shoe store. It's not too far from Sanctuary really and would make a perfect location for a women's outing. The Alehouse is next door to Michael's and there is a Pizza Hut and a couple of sandwich shops and a health food and vitamin store there as well. There is even a pool supply store on the Bearss Ave side of the strip. It would be very convenient and we could hit all the places in a single run and hopefully come back with enough stuff to keep all the kids in clothes and shoes for a while.

I'm not going to let them put us off much longer. There's really no excuse. Hopefully I can even convince Betty and Reba to come, maybe Cindy and Tasha as well although all four of those ladies hate leaving the safety of Sanctuary's compound. We'll leave the kids with Angus and hopefully they won't kill him before we get back. If Angus gets up to tricks the men should be able to sort things out. He can't get into that much trouble … at least I hope not. On the other hand maybe I'll just tie Johnnie, Bubby, and Angus to a tree ... it might be safer. I'll let Anne decide about little Ray. He's another one that can get up to tricks. He was very interested in how Kitty got away with painting Angus blue and when he turned his innocent eyes on his dad and smile I thought Lee looked like he was ready to run and hide behind Anne.

Back to business; overall this haul is really good though we are a bit redundant on some things like cots and linens and cookware. Now that Steve's radio broadcasts are letting more survivor groups interact peaceably with him as a mediator anything we have too many multiples of will go good as a trade item; if not now, eventually.

Matlock and Scott and Dante' were talking about how we should make a list of trade items to give to Steve, as well as a list of wanted items we're looking for. If he can hook us up with a deal he can have a cut of the profits. Assuming he is up for a business like that. It would mean putting himself on the line and if he has other people to care for that might not appeal to him … unless the "profit" was high enough. I know he likes pizza and sardines. Pizza I know we can do; sardines we have some of and I wouldn't mind trading them away. I never acquired the taste for sardines though Scott would eat them on occasion. And maybe Shorty would be interested in some fresh pasta or fresh Cuban bread. I'll have to ask.

The question is going to be how we will work out the situations where items produced or gathered by group effort get used to trade for items of strictly personal use, such as cigarettes. I guess the same way we would for something like feminine hygiene products, baby bottles, or similar – on a case by case basis. We could definitely use more feminine hygiene products. Now that all the women … those not pregnant anyway … have adjusted to a lower calorie diet and the stress we are always under estrogen cycles have definitely returned to normal. Betty was telling us some ways that women in third world countries dealt with their cycles and I'm going to write up some of that in my journal one of these days. My girls aren't thrilled about the changes that will be coming in the future, but I don't see as any of us have much choice. It's not like you can go to the drugstore and pick up a monthly supply any longer.

After the men came back in and our gates were shut, and the normal chaos of hugs and kisses for the returnees had settled down, Matlock and Dix called a short meeting. Basically the bottom line is that we really can't expect to keep running across large stocks of supplies. We need to get out there and do this as often possible and get some of our list of wants knocked down before we come in conflict with any other survivor groups doing the same, such as the "X Group" as we've started to call them. And possibly before what remains of the central government starts exploiting all possible resources in the quarantine zones. It was strange that that was brought up during the meeting because some news that Steve reported on his broadcast gave us some difficult things to think on. I'll post the transcript later but it does bother me that we could be doing all of this work and then be swamped by forces coming in and taking our supplies because they have decided to "redistribute" them to make things more equitable. That'd set my biscuits to burning.

But, bottom line, this is even more reason why we women should make a run to do what we want to do. The kids need lots of items, even the big kids. And we have babies coming which means cribs and baby stuff if we can find it in a sanitary condition. Kitty isn't going to be out of cloth diapers before April when Rhonda's baby is due so we either need to find a substitute or we need to find more cloth diapers. The supply I have now barely covers her needs, much less trying to cover two (or more) babies' bottoms with what I have.

And it's going to be breast milk for the new babies as much as possible. I seriously doubt we're going to just run across a supply of baby formula out of the blue; I feel the same way about disposable diapers, they aren't just going to appear out of thin air. I have the recipe for homemade formula that I currently use but we are just about out of liquid vitamin drops. Goats' milk might be OK like it was for Kitty, but it would still be better if the mother's could nurse the babies rather than being dependent on anything else that we could run short of.

Argh! There is so much to think about. Don't even get me started on the state of the maternity clothes we have. Poor Rhonda has taken to wearing men's shirts but that won't work much longer; it only works now because she isn't all that big even though she is pretty far long. Her baby might be small or she may just carry that way … or it might just be a girl baby if you believe in old wives' tales. Babies in front and low are boys; babies up high and all around are girls. Since I carried all of mine all out front because I was so short and they were so big, I'm not inclined to put all my faith in that sort of stuff.

Speaking of all things baby, Waleski has given Rhonda, Patricia, and Becky a clean bill of health. All three are still on light duty, with Patricia further restricted to being off her feet as much as possible, but as far as he can tell all of the pregnancies are proceeding as they should. Using some of the equipment we found over near UCH he found a strong heart beat for each baby.

Rose said Patricia actually sobbed in relief after hearing her baby for the very first time. That news made the hassle of carrying that equipment down three flights of stairs more than worth the aggravation and sweat.

Rhonda will have the first baby; she is close to seven months along which makes her due sometime in April. Then comes Patricia at around 21 weeks; if she goes full term her baby will be born the beginning of June which is a nice hot month to be pregnant in. That's when Rose was born and I was miserable even with the AC at full blast. Then will come Becky but she is only about 7 weeks along which likely gives her a September delivery date.

At least we have time to prepare for the new babies. Poor Waleski would go into cardiac arrest if we had any due sooner than that. I think if he can get through Rhonda, and Patricia doesn't have any more complications, then his confidence level will go up. But maybe it's good that he is so intent on being at the top of his game. I pray every night for all of the women; no matter what, pregnancy and childbirth can be a dangerous proposition and complications happen. Sometimes things just go wrong and you can't stop it. He sure does have pregnancy on the brain recently. He is even talking about going to try and find "King Al's" brides that were pregnant and make sure they and the kids are OK.

I don't know if that is an excuse to get out of Sanctuary for a while or not. He's been cooped up inside for a bit and the pressure might be getting to him. Or maybe he really is concerned that pregnant women have some prenatal care. Ski can be a total donkey's behind sometimes but he has a heart of gold ... assuming you can find it.

I expect Rilla and Melody to be next to fall pregnant and maybe sooner rather than later with no real protection except for natural methods and their commitment ceremonies fast approaching. I would have thought Tina and Anne but Anne took me aside and told me that Lee was "snipped" so she wouldn't be having any more. There was an unspoken "thank goodness" attached to that bit of information that made me laugh. Tina I don't know about. She's different since the attack. Before she seemed a little disorganized about her parenting and the discipline, not any more. She's coming down like a load of bricks on Laura and has taken to doing the same to Maddie. Brandon appears thankful to have someone taking his step-sister in hand but sometimes too much rein is just as bad as not enough. All I know is Dante' is a happy camper so whatever is going on in their personal life appears to agree with him.

And I'm kinda worried about all the other little birds and bees we have zooming around now that spring is approaching. For sure Brandon and Josephine are a little "close" for my comfort level. James was a little disgusted the other night because while he was making his rounds he caught them making out. He said it's getting to where he needs to wear a bell or something so that he won't keep running into people in embarrassing situations.

When I asked him how often he had this happen he adamantly said, "Too often." When I asked who all it was he said he was no gossip and wouldn't tell me, while his face got as hot as a fire cracker. This leads me to believe that a little more must be going on than I'm aware of. I'm thinking that David and Rose may be one couple which doesn't thrill me but so long as they follow the rules I can live with it; not that I have a lot of choice of course but a mother does like to pretend. The way James makes it sound however there are couples under every bush doing the wild thang. Even if you take away the fact that some of it is probably exaggeration born of embarrassment that still leaves a lot of room for imagination.

Brrr. Off that subject, it gives me the willies, especially now, raising so many daughters.

So speaking of productivity, which will be the literal result if people aren't careful, my day was pretty fruitful as well. I finally finished up the last of the thinning that I had to do and repotted what I could and passed them off to all the families so they could have their share of "extras." I also got a sixth barrel composter going so that eventually I should have access to a completed barrel of compost almost every day. The field where we will plant our corn has been cleared and in a couple of days I'll prep the field so that I can plant come the beginning of February which is only a week away believe it or not.

I love, love, love the little Kabota tractor that Lee managed to rehab. It does three times the work the cart was able to do with less than half the effort. Sure it takes fuel, but the methane fuel, once it finishes perking or doing whatever it is supposed to do, will be all I should need to run it.

It was fairly quiet with most of the men away for two days. I expect it to remain quiet for a few days more. Now that the MacDill Run is out of the way Angus has decided to spend a few days up at the fire house making it "livable." That means that he's putting in a still no doubt to go along with the smokehouse he has already started. He has his "man cave" that he created out of one of the Wall's steel storage containers but when things get too hot … both literally and figuratively … he'll probably retreat more often to the firehouse. Scott told Angus that he'd take the kids up there to help him paint once he got all of the supplies in and was ready.

I'm reviewing the installments that Angus gave me to finish up his story of the Pirate Raider chase. You can tell he was rushing through this last bit and had lost interest in writing it down. No wonder Rose couldn't read it. I've had to piece things together and then ask Saen and Glenn to help straighten out some of the other stuff that I didn't understand. I think I have enough pieced out for a short installment so I'll put that next and then close with the bit I transcribed of Steve's show.

It's getting late but I'm up waiting for Scott to come off of guard duty and don't have much better to do. Besides, Saen made a to die for Thai Red Curry and boy howdy is my stomach telling me that it's been a while since I've eaten something that spicey. Lordy it was delicious but those little peppers had my eyes watering after the first bite.

When last we left off Angus had just finished up putting one of the Raider Pirates out of his misery. I know he said it like it was a stupid thing to do but it was actually a very Angus thing to do. Kick-Ass with a side order of compassion.

As for the "Unitarian kilts" he mentioned I think he must have been talking about utilitarian kilts or utility kilts. They are ... um, were ... a big thing at the Renaissance Faires that I've been to and some of the Scotch-Irish/Back Country festivals as well. There is even a name brand in the US called "Utilikilts." Think of them as a kiltish version of khaki cargo work pants. I've even seen them done up in various camo material; desert camo seems to be the most popular. Angus came back with several of them and wants me to see if I can replicate the design. He wants to add a few more pockets to hold all his gadgets and gizmos.

Angus being Angus he gets away with wearing the kilts with no comments though I told him he better be wearing something underneath while the kids are around. He gave me a bit of pout and said what did I think he was, some kind of "ijit?" I think I may have inadvertently hurt his feelings but the nice thing about Angus is he doesn't carry a grudge. Well, he does actually, but not a nasty kind of grudge except against the bad guys. I'm sure I'll have some kind of prank pulled on me at some point down the road in retaliation, but it'll be harmless enough payback.

I think I've finally got it figured out where he was at that point in his narrative. I'm pretty sure he was in Oldsmar. He hadn't talked about going over any big bodies of water or long bridges so that is about what fits with the rest of his story.

To say that he was disgusted with travelling by bike would have been an understatement. He was also badly in need of a bath and clean clothes. When you can smell yourself and become ill you know it's bad. Lucky for him the place with the Utilikits for sale had a cistern that fed a xerascape garden. I don't think Angus knew what he was looking at but apparently they stopped back that way when Angus was bringing back Saen and Glenn to Sanctuary and Saen said there was a big plaque there describing the garden.

Angus was still on the hunt for the home nest of the Pirate Raiders and had gotten quite a bit of information from the ones he … um … interrogated. He picked up a mo-ped from a local dealership and then proceeded on 580 which I know as W Hillsborough Avenue. The road 580 crosses the most northern part of Tampa Bay where the canal from Tarpon Lake dumps into the Bay.

He stayed on 580 and it's a good thing he was on a mo-ped. Traffic over in Pinellas is/was rotten even at the best of times, now all the main North-South and East-West arteries are lined with stalled vehicles of every shape and size. Certainly all of the evacuation routes became death traps. He was going just fast enough to avoid most of the curious zombies that lined the roadways and the few that got too curious he used his shelaleigh on to avoid drawing any more unwanted attention … it saved him from have to slow down and waste ammo as well. He'd just drive by and "Whack!" with a good head shot. The back splatter was more than a little messy to get out of his clothes but by now it wasn't anything I haven't seen before. Scott, David and James have had their fair share of the gooey stuff too.

The intersection of 580 and US19 was a bloody – well, insert your wildest expletive here. Angus had a few choice words for people who acted like sheep following each other to the wolf's den. The big mall there – Countryside – was nothing short of a death trap. No wonder we haven't heard too much from Pinellas County except for Tarpon Springs and Ft. DeSoto; the zombie population over there is very high in the interior. Glenn was saying that people had had no alternative but to escape to some of the outlying islands regardless of how hard the life there has turned out to be as far as water and provisions go. It was either that and put a significant stretch of water between the zombies and themselves or try and push through the zombies to reach Hillsborough or Pasco Counties further north. Even had you been able to use a boat to cross the Bay you had to deal with uncertain weather and the ever present pirate brigades.

The major bridges like the Courtney Campbell, Howard Franklin, and the Gandy Bridge were all blown. The Bayside Bridge was damaged by a barge run amok. It left the survivors in Pinellas with little choice on their escape routes.

Angus stayed on 580 until he met water at Dunedin. Angus isn't fond of open water. He's no chicken but he's more comfortable with a landlocked position. It was getting late and his food was running low at that point. He set himself up in a fairly ritzy room in the Sheraton Sand Key Resort and raided the room service refrigerator and drink dispenser for his dinner. He shoved what he didn't eat in his backpack in case he had to make a quick exit during the night.

The moon was full and the sand was white making things appear even brighter. The fact that he was on an upper floor helped as well. This gave him a bird's eye view of one of the oddities that we've heard about but had never seen up to that point since we don't live on the coast.

Angus said he thought Loki was playing a prank on him at first until he realized it was no joke. As he was sitting on the balcony eating his "dinner" and planning his next move he saw a small horde wander into his line of sight. There was nowhere near as many as with the Big Horde but there were enough to make him grab the Mauser and hold on tight. As the horde crossed the highway and wandered through the parking lot of the local hotels it seemed to pick up many of the zombies that had been wandering aimlessly along that stretch of the city.

He said the appearance of a school of fish description that I've used in the past was very appropriate. Or maybe the idea of lemmings following each other off of a cliff is even better. At least fish seem to do their best to avoid the predators of the deep.

The horde made their way onto the beach and the ones in the front never wavered from their westerly path; like they were after the setting sun or following the tide as it flowed out. One after the other the zombies all walked into the surf, disappearing under the waves. In the shallows just off shore the sharks were so numerous that even the most jaded horror movie viewer would have shivered. The brine was soon dark with the old blood and decaying flesh of the zombies as they were ripped apart in the sharks' feeding frenzy.

What had to be even more frightening was that this display of the zombies walking into the surf had to have happened often enough for the sharks to learn to be at a certain point at a certain time of day. How's that for truly freaky?

Angus is no light weight in the courage department but the sight he'd just witnessed kept him awake for much of the night and he slept later than he had intended.

It's actually a good thing he did because otherwise he might have walked into a minor Pirate excursion at the Dunedin Yacht Club. He stayed back and watched them weigh anchor and then head south down the coast which matched what Angus had been told by his captives.

The zombie population was noticeably depleted after previous night's spectacle and he was left unmolested by any walking dead. Angus re-fueled the mo-ped with some gas he found in the hotel's maintenance shed, strapped the fuel can to the back of the bike and proceeded south on Alt US 19 through Clearwater, Largo, and then into Seminole. After Seminole his luck ran out. He got a little turned around and it was nearly night before he was able to figure out his location and find a safe haven to hole up in.

Despite everything he managed to wind up at Eckerd College which put him close to where he was heading.

I think it will just take me another day or two to finish up with Angus' narrative. Man, trying to keep up with the doings of all of our community members can be exhausting. Scott asks me why I do it. I guess I'm just a busy body and find it all fascinating and a distraction for daily trials and tribulations. And now to find out there are other people out there just like us – struggling to survive. And on top of that Steve is giving us ears to an even wider stage that NRS is playing out on.

When things went bad, they went very bad. Our focus narrowed tightly to the details of the day in and day out stuff that kept us alive. That hasn't changed but now that Sanctuary is a true community and we have people other than ourselves that we can count on to do some of the work, we have the time to widen our view a bit. We want to do some trading with other groups, and we want it to be a better experience than what we had with Tarpon Springs. I still wonder what happened to them, how they've been fairing since the bulk of the pirates have been destroyed.

And now Steve opens the horizons up even broader by sharing what his ears to the world are hearing.

* * *

 _Hello again America. I've some news for all of you—just heard on the shortwave that the current President of the United States is dead. There was a small plane accident and apparently the plane went down in the Rockies. Big-ass mountains boys and girls, I've hunted them many times. The body was recovered late yesterday. I don't know how many of his cabinet died as well, but the new president is someone I've never fucking heard of—I guess that can happen when you have a government as large as ours was getting. The provisional government, I think that's what they are calling it right now, is talking about holding elections. The problem; only those people in the reclamation zones or whatever get to vote. So for those of us stuck here on the shit side of the lines, that means we have no representation in the policies that our wonderful all-knowing government will enact._

 _Now I don't want to get into a political discussion here since it would only be me talking, but to me that fucking smacks of tyranny. I think that a United State of Florida sounds good right now, but the question is simple; does that mean that we are talking seccession, or is it something totally different now that we are under what amounts to martial law? In the world we live, when do we simply say 'I've had enough', and give the rest of the territory the big finger and strike out on our own? We are essentially on our own at the moment, and by being so, what are we accomplishing other than existing? Should we be accomplishing more?_

 _For all you in the sound of my sorry voice, which at one in the morning is pretty freaking far with skies this clear, I just wanted to put out those things to ponder. Shall I change the name of this show from Steve's Midnight Music and Talk to the Voice of Free Florida? As usual, the call in lines are open on channel 30 on your CB dial and 5330.5 on the ham. All others can call the operator and put in their requests._

 _On to other stories now._

 _There's a group who are calling themselves the Tampa Street Survivors who are looking for an injection system for their GMC Suburban. It's a 1992 four wheel drive V-8. If there are any survivors out there who might have this system part, they've got trade in herbal medicines, ammo and some goats. They will be monitoring CB channel 12 at the top of every hour. They seemed like nice people when I met with them to exchange some sardines for the herbals a couple days ago, but if there's a Spanish speaker in your group, it might go smoother for you._

 _Congratulations to Vickie and Deb, they finally made it back home from Georgia, where they say that the undead while not as numerous as they seem to be here, are just as crazy as the rednecks they are spawned from. They had gone up there for a load of-get this people-fucking tobacco. They have dried and cured tobacco ready for trade. They will trade by the pound or ounce and accept nearly anything in barter. They are looking for citrus contracts—contracts people, we have interstate trade open it seems and used veggie oil. As far as I know, they are the only ones who have ventured that far in the last several months. Once again, I have met with these ladies, and they drive hard bargains. More sardines were traded for the devil weed—if you had the habit before and are looking to take it up again, here's your chance. They monitor CB channel 19, the trucker channel._

 _Speaking of truckers. The guy driving the dump truck needs to swing by the docks—that's all I got, folks, a short message._

 _Be damn careful whenever you meet anyone of the people mentioned on this show, I try to screen out the shady sounding ones and give a thumbs up to those who I've personally met, but I can't vouch for all of them nor can I even give you more than my nearly worthless impression of what I think from one meeting._

 _Remember folks: layers of security whenever you go out into the world today—there are no do overs._

 _That's what I've got in the news for our little corner of Florida. You know its funny, I always told Shorty that I never wanted to live in Florida, and here I am, speaking to you from the damn top of the radio station in Florida._

 _So on that note, since this is a radio station, here's a request from a late night listener—Play me Joe, she says. Joe Bonamassa. My inner child smiles at this one since Joe is one of my all time favorite guitarists. This is from his album "Blues Deluxe" the rockin' tune "Burn in Hell"—I've seen Joe perform this live and it was just as good live, hell, better than, the studio version. I remember seeing him, one of the many times I saw him, in Dayton, Ohio, it rained hard enough to stop the show and there were about a hundred hard-core Joe fans who waited out the rain. He came out on stage and said 'thank you for sticking it out, since we have only a half hour left until the stage closes, I'm going to give you a full half hour of music." He started out by playing ZZ Top's "Just Got Paid Today" and played for the next half hour without stopping._

 _Those are the things that make you love a guy._

 _Oh, and I think someone owes me a pizza._

 _Here's Joe Bonamassa._

* * *

We'll I hear Scott finally dragging in. Must have been a rough night on the Wall. I heard a few sporadic shots and the dogs barking which they normally don't do at night. No alarm bells rang and no one ran by knocking on doors so it must have been a zombie incident that has since been taken care of.

The number of zombies on this end of town is increasing again. I hate when that happens. I'll ask Scott what was up but I'm done writing for the night. If it was interesting I'll include it in my next entry.


	143. Day 182

**Day 182 (Monday) – January 28**

These last few days have been so hectic. I mean surreally hectic. We had a major accident. Oh, not the kind with broken bones or those kinds of injuries, but it's been an accident with unwelcome results nonetheless.

Friday was a big time work day for everyone. Despite Dix wanting to start on his idea of daily gathering runs down Dale Mabry Hwy we needed to clean up things and get organized first. Part of the reorganizing was from the mess caused by some monkeys the preceding evening. That's what set the dogs barking and the shots being fired. Turns out those blasted monkeys were more of a disaster than we at first understood.

Dante' had been on rounds with the dogs. He was checking the barn we built out in the big animal enclosure when he looked up with his flashlight and scared the monkeys as much as the monkeys had scared him. Apparently most primates have the same type of sleep cycle; awake during daylight and asleep when the sun goes down just like homo sapiens. They likely climbed in over the Wall to hide away from whatever predators they now have. "Free" food may have also been an incentive; they had gotten into a couple of the food bins.

They took off into the night and we have no sense that they've been back. Once was enough however.

What I wasn't aware of, until I did some reading trying to figure out what the illness was that the men and boys all seemed to be suffering from, is that primates tend to carry the same types of diseases as humans. Waleski was one of the ones down for the count, and he's still quite weak, so my "diagnosis" is only based on some very rudimentary assumptions.

I know I'm rambling but I'm so tired. And I'm on hospital watch so I have to do something to keep my brain in wake-mode. I guess maybe I should just explain things from the beginning.

It took more time to clean up the monkey mess than it did to make it. Austin said that it wasn't likely that the monkeys could give anything to the cows so we didn't do anything extraordinary except to make sure that the monkey feces was disposed of in the compost pile. Everyone used gloves naturally.

Then the main part of our workforce (contained mostly of the men and boys) began laying the foundations of the front and rear gates houses. A smaller portion of the work crew (containing mostly women and girls) began cleaning up and putting away all of the stuff that had been brought in by the gathering crew from Wednesday and Thursday. Waleski, Melody, and Rose worked on putting away the medical supplies. I had Kitty in a sling on my back because she had been too fussy to leave with anyone else and then went to work on the garden.

By midnight that night I had a nightmare on my hands. Scott and David had very bad diarrhea and were puking as well. James was on guard duty but by 2 AM he was added to the list of ill. And that list was growing. Rose ran back from the hospital to let me know that nearly every man and boy in Sanctuary was suffering from severe digestive tract disruption.

My first thought was food poisoning but at that point we didn't have any women down with it and since we ate communally I changed my mind quickly. Then I suspected maybe something had gone wrong with the still, but when I went to ask Angus … who was just as ill as every other male in camp … he said he kept the still locked up to help the boys with temptation so to speak. And knowing some of the girls we've got if it had been the still it wouldn't have just been the men and boys sick. Heck, even I've been using the makings from the still to make some stuff and herbals and so far no ill effects.

Waleski was like a one legged man in a butt kicking contest. Grump-aholic he may be, but he is a damn fine medic that is way beyond dedicated. By mid morning the next day – that would have been Saturday – Waleski, Rilla, and some of the youngest of our crew had started having symptoms. I thought maybe it was a stomach virus but we hadn't come in contact with any live person save Steve.

I called Steve on the CB and asked him if any of his brood were down and he gave me a negative which crossed virus off my list.

When I reviewed what had happened the last couple of days outside of the gathering run the only thing that stood out was the brief monkey invasion. I started blocking out where people were that morning. I almost crossed the monkeys off as a reason for whatever was happening. Samuel, Sarah, Bekah, and the other tweens and some of the kids helped to clean up the monkey mess. They were all wearing gloves. But only Samuel and the other boys from that detail were sick.

Johnnie and Bubby weren't sick. Neither was Ray. Neither was Kitty nor I. But all three boys had been helping me most of the day in the garden, despite their protests that it was "women's work." I had kept them close and busy to keep them out from underfoot and out of trouble.

I went out to the Wall where they had all been working trying to see if I could figure out what on earth they could have been contaminated by. I was almost ready to come in and had bent down to pick up some gloves when I stopped, realizing how nasty they were. And they were not that far from the drinking water barrel.

Then it hit me. And I'll admit I'm making a lot of assumptions here but I haven't found anything else that fits.

The kids clean up the monkey mess. They are wearing gloves. That group of kids then split; all of the girls heading back into the compound to help stock and organize, all of the boys heading out to help the men on the Wall. The girls leave their gloves in the barn because they are "gross" but the boys leave theirs on because they are going to be working digging and dredging anyway.

All it would take was a small cross contamination according to what I've read. We've got dysentery running amok; also known as shigella. Seems that monkeys can carry it the same as humans. Those that cleaned up in the barn and left their gloves on contaminated the drinking water barrel somehow. Yuck.

The cases of people who didn't work on the Wall were from cross contamination in homes where caregivers were exposed. Shigella is extremely contagious. It only takes as small a dose as 10 cells to cause someone to get sick.

Those of us who weren't showing symptoms spent the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday sanitizing everything we could. I've kept a metal barrel of water boiling so that as soon as sheets or clothing has to be changed, we can just dumped them in a trough and pour boiling water on them and allow them to soak with strong detergent.

The worst was cleaning the outhouses. They had to be emptied but I couldn't just dump them into the humanure compost or even just dig a hole and dump it in. That could have contaminated our ground water sources. I used Juicer, after an anxious Angus gave me specific instructions on how to use the loader. Wearing the best protective bio-gear that I could rig up I emptied the outhouse reservoirs into a large plastic barrel.

The plastic barrel was put in Juicer's loader and after I had filled it up – which took a disgustingly short time – I hauled it down to the body dump area.

Now I knew what Angus was trying to tell me and why he was so agitated. It's been months since I've been down that way. The body dump, where we dispose of the sanitized zombies, is … it's … it's horrific. Even that doesn't begin to truly describe its macabre landscape.

I was warned to never exit Juicer's cab, carrion eaters frequent the area. Angus said they normally run from the big vehicle but they've been getting bold and last time he was up that way he had a hyena pack attacking the flotsam before it had totally exited the compactor in the back. I didn't see any hyenas but the turkey vultures gave me the heebie-jeebies, reminding me way too much of Hitchcock's classic The Birds.

Once I was back in the compound Rose and Melody had started another barrel that people could dump feces and vomit into. The other women were setting up a large canopy to move all of our sick people into. A single location would make it easier to clean up and keep things sanitary under the circumstances. It would also mean that the houses of the sick would only have to be cleaned and sanitized once.

It's been work, work, work, work, work ever since. Doing roughly the same amount of work with less than half the people that have to work twice as hard to get the same amount of work done. We had a few others fall ill; Maddie and Laura both went down because they blew off Tina's orders about how they needed to do the cleaning. They are paying for it now. Josephine also went down because I guess she and Brandon were swapping spit; gross but accurate. Waleski hit the deck Saturday night and Rill and Ty did as well.

I cannot tell you how much hand sanitizer we've gone through. We had a huge supply that we've been gathering from offices and similar places and at this rate we will have used up roughly 75% of our stockpile before this is all over.

We've been treating the children aggressively with ampicillin; the adults we are trying to let their bodies natural defenses kick in. The worst problem is keeping everyone hydrated. The children we wound up having to put IVs into. Luckily that was something that Melody knew how to do and Rose got plenty of practice at it.

Everyone is on the mend, but several are still very weak. I've hung those hand sanitizer gizmos all over Sanctuary, especially in the barn, storehouses, and guard stations. We are going to have to be more careful.

I radioed Steve and he put the word out about the monkeys and other wild primates. I suspect that cleaning supplies are going to be a premium trade item for quite some time. I really want to learn to make homemade soap soon. We can't be without cleaning products; sanitation is just too important.

Now for even more news; for good or ill several of us women have agreed that we are going to make a run over to Michael's and the children's clothing and consignment shop day after tomorrow. Not all of us like I had hoped. For one thing not every woman in Sanctuary wants to go. Some profess to have absolutely no desire to go. I don't understand it, but I feel it's important to honor their preference and not badger them about it. For the other thing there is going to have to be some that stay to look after the guys. At that point we should start to see some real improvement and by this coming Friday everyone should be back on their feet, although some may still be a little weak due to fluid loss.

Well, my hospital gig is over and I now need to head to the Wall. It's too dark to write so I'll have to finish everything else up tomorrow.


	144. Day 183

**Day 183 (Tuesday) – January 29**

Today's been a slow bit of recovery. It seems that everyone that was gonna get it, got it, and is now at least on the road to recovery if not actually recovered.

I'm even too tired to have heartburn. I asked Saen if she would mind making that curry again for those of us who could eat; everyone that had had the shigella/dysentery thing was still on liquid diets. I was thankful she said yes because I just couldn't face the kitchen after all the dirty, grungy work I've done today. I managed to write the recipe down this time.

Thai Red Curry

15 oz. coconut milk  
1/2 chicken,chopped into small pieces(you can also use other birds, pork, beef, ect.)  
3 tablespoons of sugar  
1 tsp salt  
1/4 cup bamboo shoots, sliced into ribbons  
5 leaves Thai sweet basil, chopped.  
2 tablespoons "Nam Pla" aka fish sauce  
1-5 tablespoons Thai Red Curry Paste (to taste)

Red Curry Paste-  
1/2 cup fresh Thai Red Bird Peppers  
1/8 cup garlic  
1/8 cup small (indian) onions  
1/8 cup lemongrass  
1/8 cup galingal root  
1/8 cup green Thai peppers  
1 pinch cinnamon  
1 tblspoon grated fresh ginger  
2 kahfir lime leaves, minced  
juice of 1 lime  
1 tsp salt  
3 tablespoons sugar

Pound in a mortar and pestle until you have a paste. Put coconut milk into saucepan. Stir while bringing to a boil. Add curry paste herbs and fish sauce. Stir and bring back to a boil, and add chicken, hold at a slow boil for 5 minutes, add 2 cups of water, salt, and sugar. Simmer and stir until chicken is cooked thoroughly. Garnish with sweet Thai basil.

We were all very lucky that Saen brought her Thai veggie seeds back with her. I'm amazed they survived everything she and Glenn have been through. She had them stored in little film canisters and we put up a green house for her and keep it heated on cold days/night for the stuff out of season.

Something else that Glenn and Saen have shared is how you can take a member of the ginger family called Galingale, chop it up and then crush it to release its resin and then you mix that with water, ferment overnight, and then strain the biomass to create an extract. Then you take that extract and mix it in a 1:10 ration to more water and spray it directly on your fruit trees and bushes to prevent fruit flies which can be a bad problem in the subtropics and tropics. I happen to know that a patch of this was planted over in the USF Botanical Garden and we'll definitely be getting starts so I can grow some plots of this around Sanctuary. Plus one for the good guys; now we have a completely herbal remedy for some varmints that could destroy our fruit supply.

I can't wait until all my really hot peppers are ready for harvest. I'm going to use them to poison the rat and mice population around here. They are getting completely out of hand. Sanctuary's feline population just can't keep up with them. The two little boy kittens that we rescued way back when are now fully male … as in they are spraying everything that they can which is terminally gross. One of them has started to roam and I fear one day he'll leave the compound and never return. The other little boy cat doesn't seem quite as bent on roaming but he is twice as aggressive. That one I may have to send off somewhere myself; he's nearly attacked Sarah and Bekah twice now and that isn't going to continue. He doesn't do it to me but then again I'm top cat around here, the girls however appear to be fair game. Maybe I'll talk to Austin and see if he knows if there is another way to fix him. That might calm his ferociousness down some.

Pup is one strange dog. She is a mouse hunter. Whoever heard of a mouse hunting dog?! I really do think that dog must have been brain damaged or traumatized or something. She doesn't want to have much to do with the big dogs except for Mischief and only when Mischief is in the mood to be very tolerant. At least Pup keeps the rats and mice out of the garden.

The gardens are doing fairly well. I'm losing a few things here and there to the squirrels which really lights my tail feathers on fire but I'm not sure what I can do about it at this stage. I have the kids building little cages for individual plants or long caged "tunnels" over some of the rows but we don't have a lot of spare chicken wire just lying around; it's not like we can just run to Home Depot, Lowes, or Ace Hardware to grab another roll any time we want it. I tried putting up chain link but the varmints just crawled through the holes. I tried using clear plastic and screening from the destroyed houses but the squirrels just chewed through that. Anything too solid keeps in too much heat and "cooks" my little plants.

The main problem with the squirrels is over population. We don't really eat them because the ones around here have problems with worms and other parasites. There aren't enough predators to take them out … sure as heck they aren't playing chicken with cars and getting taken out that way. When Angus is feeling better I may ask if he can organize something that the younger kids can do.

Squirrels and rats aren't the only rodent-caused headaches I'm having. Those rabbits that the guys brought back? What started out as just a couple has blossomed into a pretty good sized bunny hutch. Only the adults that were brought back are big enough to eat yet and I don't want to do that because then we'd lose our breeding stock. But we are definitely going to have to do something. We've got almost too much livestock to take care of these days.

One of the angoras got out the other day and I was standing there like an idiot telling it to go back home and getting mad because it wasn't doing anything but hiding in the grass. About that time Sarah comes around the corner with Pup on a leash and I finally realized my mistake. Sarah thought it was hilarious. Hmmmm. Well, at least she got a kick out of it.

Aside from the demon squirrels I've managed to hold onto most of the garden, all of them actually. The only place that I was hacked off was one that I should have known better than to tempt fate with. I planted a small patch of greens within sight of the goat pen, before they were moved permanently into the large animal enclosure. Goats will be goats and I don't know if there is a fence on earth that will really keep a goat in if it wants something on the other side of it. Boy did those collards give Ol' Billy a belly ache. Otherwise, no harm no foul as it was one of my redundant back up gardens.

Most of the Temple tangerines have been harvested. I've managed to juice quite a few as well as can whole segments. The remaining ones will go into fruit salads until they are all gone. That's if the kids don't eat them all first. Some of the kids just can't seem to help themselves, they are always hungry. Mostly the crowd that was under the "care" of the pirates. They probably have food issues or whatever you want to diagnose it as and it's hard to convince them that there will be enough tomorrow. They still wolf their dinner down but not as badly as they did in the beginning.

Poke salad greens are finally starting to come up. I would have expected to see them sooner but the weather must have held them back. I'm pretty sure we've seen the last of the really cool weather which is a relief to me. Of course come summer I'll probably be singing a different tune.

The tropical apricots and the loquats are coming in nicely as well. The loquats took a little bit of a beating in that windstorm the other night but I think I got most of them up off the ground before any harm was done.

I can't wait for all the other stuff to be ready for harvest. The radishes are almost there and they'll be a really nice addition to the salad greens that are maturing.

I've spent most of the afternoon trying to get some organization going so that the group of us that is going can leave and make a gathering run tomorrow. I'm a little concerned about the whole situation. I don't know how I got elected to this position. Sure I wanted to go on the run but I'm talking about all the other stuff. Setting the meal schedule, making sure the Wall watches and hospital watches are covered and coordinated, making sure the kids all have chore charts to keep them out of trouble. Part of me feels like I'm being really bossy but when I try and get some other people's opinions they just look at me like "why are you asking me?!" I just don't get it. Individually all of the women have a pretty good dose of independence but as a group it's like everyone is looking for someone else to take the lead. I can understand Anne and Saen not being interested in the position, they are still feeling their way around here in Sanctuary. I can also see why maybe Rhonda or some of the other younger women don't want the responsibility or feel like they may not have enough experience yet. But Betty and Reba? What about Patricia?

I try and not get too bent out of shape. Actually I think I've handled the last few days rather well. I didn't panic, cry, pitch a fit, or any other less than constructive behavior. I got a few snide comments for an overheard comment to one of my own kids where I told them that it was going to be ok, to "have faith." I guess when people don't feel well that they don't exhibit as much tolerance as they would otherwise. Gets to me sometimes how I'm supposed to have tolerance and understanding for other folks but they don't offer any to me or mine on this subject. Oh nothing that I haven't had to deal with over the years even when things were good but it does give me pause and it is a warning that people are always going to be people no matter what the environment they find themselves in is.

Speaking of people's attitudes and perceptions I've asked everyone that feels like it to give me something for my journal. Some are playing around with the idea but not everyone has done it yet. Other priorities; but the short blurb that Chris gave me tells me that I'm not the only one that takes my personal beliefs seriously and tries not to freak other people out.

* * *

 _Something I think bears a bit of explanation is my habit of going off on my own for a while, as well as that rosary I keep with me. Religion's always been a big part of my life (thanks to my mother) and my meditations are a way of keeping that alive. Plus, seeing as there isn't any sort of priest down here, I need to see to it myself. The rosary itself is a bit of an heirloom. It was given to me for my Confirmation by my mother, who got it from her mother, who in turn got it from her mother. After four generations in the same family, something like that gets pretty valuable to a person. I'm not gonna get all preachy or anything. It's just an old habit that refuses to die and a way to remember my family. Sorry if I've been weirding anyone out with that, but maybe the explanation makes it seem less odd. Hopefully, this helps explain the "why" behind the "what."_

* * *

I thought it was sweet of him to explain things like that, especially given how important we all can see the occasional bit of alone time is to him. I'll have to tell Scott, James, and David and hopefully they can head off anything that might turn snarky; though on second thought maybe I'll leave off the "sweet" comment as that might not go over well with the guys. I really don't foresee anything uncomfortable happening, but like I said people are people and sometimes people just don't seem to be able to control how they react to stuff.

For instance, I know it is just about killing Scott to let me lead this run. He said some really hurtful things without even realizing he was being hurtful. Maybe it was how I was taking it but then again, all he did was make me even more determined to go.

Matlock and Dix are still too weak to do much more than fuss but I know that if even the tiniest of things go wrong they'll put us all in a gilded cage for quite some time. Cotton batting and gilded cages were never the fashion statement I wanted to make so I'm praying and planning that things go well and turn out constructive. I think the only reason that we are still getting to go is because James, who has made an amazingly quick recovery though he is still on soft foods, will be going as will Eric. Samuel would go if he could but that isn't happening. Despite his size he is still very sick which means to me he may have gotten a heavier contamination than some of the others.

Once the other guys all started acting like they were well enough to complain about being bored I asked them if they wanted to take the time to write something down for my journal. That shut quite a few of them up really fast, although I think of few of them were scribbling notes and saying they would get back to me later.

I also had to deal with Jim's bit of hard headedness today. He was walking – just barely – and insisted he could walk himself to the outhouse without our help. After a while you just have to give a guy some room to have some dignity so we let him go. When he didn't come back though a couple of us got worried and went looking for him. When I found him he was over near the still. He was "just checking" on it, or at least that's what he said. Well, I'll buy that as the last thing we want is an exploding still on top of everything else we have going.

However, he wanted to show me something. He took me over towards a lesser used area of the Wall and asked me to look in the container. Unsure of what I would find I slowly looked inside. A luuuuuuve nest; complete with mattress, candles, pillows, and a cooler of canned snacks. The number of people that would have to do this is rather small. On the other hand, maybe one of the married/committed couples was using it as a getaway. I don't know, but this only reinforces the idea that some things are going on below the surface that I don't know about. I wouldn't care except that I suspect this might be some of the kids … or maybe it was leftover from Marty's highjinks, I'm not sure. Makes me go all mother hen-ish however and that isn't good.

By the time we actually did get back to the hospital Jim was exhausted and slept most of the afternoon away. I've put Tina, Rose, and Melody on notice that he's probably going to try the same thing tomorrow and they may have to pole ax him to get him to stay put.

And with that bit of nonsense I am off to bed. I am taking early watch, the one that David normally takes. This will leave them plenty of day watch staff and I can go on the run with a clear conscience. I thought I would be more excited about going after having to fight so hard to set it up. Maybe I'm just tired. Hopefully I'll lighten up tomorrow and can have some much needed fun with it.


	145. Day 184

**Day 184 (Wednesday) – Women's Run**

The best description I can come up with for today is fantastical. OK, I went looking in the thesaurus for that one because you can only use the words interesting or extraordinary so many times before it becomes annoying in the extreme. Kind of like the abuse of the word "unprecedented" during the early months of the economic fiasco the world went through. A lot of us started calling it "the only four letter word with thirteen letters." I started emailing a link to online thesaurus to all of the major media outlets asking them to please use it so that it wouldn't sound like they got their statements all from the same talking head with orders to say it exactly the way it was scripted. (Although a part of me will always believe that is exactly what happened.)

The reason why I chose fantastical as my word of the day is because our run really was interesting, fun, quixotic, and yet it also had its fair share of fear, loathing, and emotive settings.

The day started out as ordinarily as any other day that we've gone on a run. I got off guard duty, made a quick change, grabbed a bite to eat, we all told everyone goodbye and all the other mushy stuff, accepted their admonishments to be careful and not to take chances, and then we headed out. We weren't going all that far and there were fewer of us than I had expected going. Also we didn't really mean to do much more than gather from one strip center so we only took the bus.

James and Eric were our main guards. They were there primarily to be "at the ready" at all times which freed the rest of us to search through all the stores to our hearts content. Eric was the only male older than nine years who didn't get dysentery. It would have been a mystery to bug me to no end except Waleski told me that Eric had apparently had shigellosis during his captivity by the pirates and it gave him a measure of immunity for a few months. Lucky Eric.

The women who went were myself, Rose, my Sarah, Melody, Claire, Callie, Tina, Cindy, Liz, Saen, Anne and Austin's Sarah. But what I failed to mention in last night's entry was that I had radioed over to Steve's place yesterday and asked him if Shorty needed anything for their girl. Guess what? Shorty and three teen girls met us and that added to the fine time we had in the beginning. Of course, they had a rather taciturn young man watching over them who never really unbent. He looked just enough like Steve that I'd say they were related, but per usual they were all rather careful with their answers. Real names were never even exchanged so we had to kind of make things up as we went along. My Sarah and Shorty's 12 year old got along famously after they got to know one another and by the end of the day Shorty's 12 year old had received the nickname "Music." The lack of names didn't spoil things, kind of made it fun as we tried to guess what their real names were and kept being met with "no"; but as it happened we were all appreciative of the extra guard.

Up Van Dyke Rd then south on Dale Mabry to the Bearss Ave intersection and then we turned into the strip center which held all the shops that were our goal for that day. Bekah wanted to go so badly but I told her that we needed her to monitor the radio in case Dix needed to run to the outhouse real quick right when there was an emergency. The little minx laughed at that a bit but I made it a priority to bring back something to reward her sacrifice.

After introductions between our group and Shorty's, we settled on a plan of action and a way of splitting the bounty based on group size. Basically Shorty's group would get 20% of whatever we brought in and we would get 80% unless the item was something one group or the other particularly needed, then we would work it out from there. For instance, Shorty and Steve's group doesn't include any young children; they have no immediate need for clothing or shoe sizes to fit that age group. On the other hand, we've got more plant containers than I could ever possibly use and Shorty needed a bunch of smaller ones so that she could start a roof-top garden. It was pretty easy to work things out on a case-by-case basis when we ran into stuff like that.

We started with the Tampa Alehouse. We were all armed but the young man with Shorty insisted on checking the place out before any of us females entered. James was in agreement with that but I could tell he was happy not to have to be the one who brought it up. Shorty doesn't strike me as the docile type so the fact that she quickly acquiesced to the young man's plan gave me a bit more confidence in him than I might have had otherwise on such short acquaintance.

Eric guarded the door as James and … I'll call him Shorty's guard for lack of any other name to give him … went through the building. The building was weather tight and hadn't been bothered with for several months, probably not sense September or October. There were three zombies inside the building but they were all in a single storeroom and were all past the shambler stage of decomposition. This gave James a chance to show off. He gave an exhibition to the older young man of the method that Scott developed to deal with this particular stage of zombie-hood. Scott calls it the mallet-and-awl or hammer-and-spike method. I just call it gross; effective but gross. It's simple; place sharp pointy thing against the cranium of zombie, then hit sharp pointy thing with a larger heavy thing doing your best not to get back-splashed by cranial fluids that exit the hold. Lastly you dispose of the sanitized corpse. Before the day was out the young man had made his own set using a hammer and chisel he found in a tool box in a maintenance closet in one of the stores.

The Alehouse pretty well started our day off on a good foot. I'll admit I'm not a beer or liquor drinker but I don't begrudge other people doing it. Scott will knock one back every once in a while and he's tasted what's come out of the still. And I plan on making small beer at some point to help secure potable drinkables on longer voyages but that's about it. Well the Alehouse was amazingly enough still stocked with beer though it looked like most of their hard liquor had been consumed by the trio prior to their conversion to NRS as evidenced by all the empty broken liquor bottles in the room with them. What were were interested in however were the unopened kegs numbering about two dozen, and just about as many empty ones. There was nearly that much in cask ale as well. Boy did we have fun figuring out how to fit that into the bus. It wasn't so bad for Shorty, at least at that point, because they had come in a dump truck.

There wasn't really any food per se left in the restaurant but there were plenty of condiments and paper goods and we eagerly split all of that up as well. The next place down was just an insurance office and its break room and desks had already been ransacked, possibly by the ones that had taken refuge in the Alehouse, but we did come away with some more office supplies. Shorty told us to take them all as they were swimming in office supplies from all the stuff over at the university and probably would be for the next decade. I heard a grumbled, "Not at the rate you are making us do schoolwork" from Shorty's middle girl. And that brought a chorus of agreement from our girls. Shorty and I just looked at each other, knowing that regardless of the grumpiness we got out of them these days, one day down the road they'd appreciate what we were trying to do.

I wasn't too hopeful when we broke into the Pizza Hut – again preceded by our guards checking the interior out first – but apparently Steve was a big pizza lover (like we couldn't have figured that out from his broadcasts) and Shorty really wanted to surprise him. There was only a lone 20-pound bag of flour which I gladly gave to Shorty's crew; but there was about four cases of pizza sauce. Most of the other toppings had gone over except for the pepperoni and a supply of parmesan cheese all of which our two groups split 50/50. I'm not far off from being able to make my own homemade pepperoni so it wasn't any skin off my nose to let it go. Not to mention it might butter the bread a little bit and build more goodwill between our two groups.

After Pizza Hut we decided to forego some of the smaller shops and head straight to Michael's Craft Store and see what we could find. One of the big glass plate windows was busted in front but that was the extent of the obvious exterior damage. I could tell James was a little nervous because Michael's is much larger than the other three places had been and it was darker in the rear areas. Shorty's guard recommended going straight from front to back and opening up the rear bay and door to let in what additional light they could. The recce, noting a bus a few employee vehicles in the rear of the building, was quickly accomplished and we really went to town in the store.

First we found all the plastic tubs and boxes that we could and lined them up in the front of the store, then everyone got a shopping cart and was assigned a section of the store.

We started with the yarn and needle crafts. That stuff was kind of bulky but it will be important as time goes along and we have to do more fabrication of clothing, linens, and such from scratch. The bakeware section was next though when I'll ever have the time to do the cake decorating like I used to is beyond me. It'll be good to have something for special occasions anyway. Next came art supplies then craft painting and then paper crafts and beads. Home décor and beads were another space hog and I started to wonder if we'd be able to bring everything back we found, especially as I piled bolt upon bolt of cloth into the bus on top of the kegs and casks already in there. I would have liked to have taken some of the silk and dried flowers but it just wasn't practical. We did clean out the candy section which apparently had been overlooked by looters. Who would think that a craft store would have edibles in it after all? And after all these months?

By the time we had finished with Michael's it was getting towards lunch. We stepped out into the full, and increasingly warm, sunlight and spread plastic tablecloths for our picnic. Shorty's crew was going to eat MREs until I asked wouldn't they rather have Red Beans and Rice with us. We had set rice to cooking in several large thermoses before we left Sanctuary and it was right at that perfect stage of fluffiness. I had also hayboxed a large Dutch oven of red beans and homemade sausage which we served on top of the rice. In exchange they shared their large igloo full of fresh lemonade. There isn't anything quite as satisfying for a cook as listening to the sound of silence around a table because people are too busy eating to yak. I have to admit it was pretty good even though it was more or less just a jacklegged recipe I had concocted at the last minute.

After lunch and a quick clean up we headed into the children's consignment shop and the shoe store. Neither place was large enough to hold all of us at once so we split up and went to town boxing up what we came for. Like I mentioned, Shorty had no interest in the children's clothing so they went into the shoe store first and pulled what they wanted. When they were finished we took everything we needed from there.

I think at this point we might have been getting a little too sure of ourselves. Nothing bad had happened; but over confidence can be a killer. The next shop down was an organic market and health food store. We had all walked over in a bunch when suddenly three men and a woman came barreling out of the glass shrieking, "They'll get you too, you better run!"

Needless to say no one's heart had been done too much good. James nearly shot one of the men but stopped just in time since they were running for their lives away from us. James and Shorty's guard looked all through the store but there wasn't anything untoward to be seen or heard. Quickly and quietly we took what we thought would be of use to us, split it, and then stored it in our respective vehicles. The bus was getting very crowded. I wished we had thought to bring at least the trailer that attached to the hitch that Scott and McElroy had welded to the back of the bus.

James and Eric said that since we did bring the straps that they could put some stuff on top of the bus in the luggage racks that had been bolted up there. That eased my mind some and it was also the best place for the swimming pool supplies that we next took from the Pinch-a-Penny on the northern end of the strip center. It was also a good place for the clothing we took from one of the higher end retailers that had rented space there beside a embroidery and sewing machine store.

We had run through all of the shops in the center and we still had a couple of hours before we planned to return to Sanctuary so we started going through the cars in the parking lot of the center. There wasn't a lot of them but there were enough. All the gas tanks were dry though we did find a few useful odds and ends sprinkled throughout which made the hassle of rummaging somewhat worth it.

The most interesting find however was actually in the back of the strip center where employees usually park. The bus was easily hidden from the road by the buildings surrounding it and the overgrowth of the vegetation back there. It was a blood mobile bus. Shorty said that they had found some pretty good supplies in the main off of Florida Blood Services which is on the USF campus. This bus was no exception. I have to admit a small thrill went through me when we found the coolers, though no longer cool, fully stocked with canned juices and sodas. There were several carts fully stocked with all sorts of wipes and other first aid items and even a crash cart with meds and such that had not one but two portable defibulators. All this we also split 50/50. I have no idea what the size of Steve's group really is but the fact is that we have the trained medic and they don't. That was another one of those "creating good will" gestures that I made on my own and so far no one has said anything about it in reproof.

James was still nervous because of the warning of the four crazies. Shorty's guard was also on high alert though I don't know if I would have called him nervous or not. The rest of us, though on higher alert than we had been, were still focused on getting the stuff packed away so we could head home. Maybe if we had all been more alert it wouldn't have happened. On the other hand, who knows? Sometimes the unexpected happens and you just have to live with it.

On the SE corner of the Dale Mabry Hwy/Bearss Avenue intersection are buildings that housed a bank and a gas station. We didn't even bother trying to scavenge through them for gatherings; both were pathetic wrecks that had been all but demolished except for some of their outer walls. But we should have been paying a little more attention to them. I'll tell you why in a bit.

After we had snugged all of our gathered items down, we stepped away from our vehicles for one more turn around the strip center to see if there was any little item that we could tuck in the few pockets of space that remained. Suddenly James and Shorty's guard went into that slient hyper-drive mode that people have cultivated in the last few months; it signaled to the rest of us ZOMBIES! We all immediately weaponed up and turned outwards looking for the threat.

From behind the Alehouse came a steady stream of zombies; there had to have been a good two dozen. Worse yet, these weren't shamblers; these suckers could move and they didn't look too overtly decayed either. Running through my subconscious was the thought that some survivor group had bitten the dust … or at least been bitten … not that long ago. But occupying my conscious was the immediate need to take up defensive positions.

As quickly and quietly as possible we formed a V putting the youngest and least experienced fighters inside the V; everyone else formed the legs of the V with James and Shorty's guard at point and Eric to the side of James. Shorty was on the other side of her guard and we ranged down the line from there. James is a great sniper so he started taking zombies out quickly. Shorty's guard and Eric did as well. I was too busy watching all sides for other potential attackers. But the zombies were closing in quick and we were backing up with the plan to use the standing walls of the demolished bank and gas station, as well as the trees in the parking lot green space, for cover.

The gunfire reverberated for what seemed like miles in all directions and was sure to draw more zombies to our position. We needed to get them all taken out and get in our vehicles and go ASAP.

We had backed ourselves up and were between the destroyed walls and the heavily treed green space that measures about 20 feet by 30 feet. In fact we were there when Eric took the last of the zombies out with a shotgun blast of 00 Buckshot. The last echo of that explosive sound hadn't totally faded when I had to duck to avoid a bottle thrown at me.

Zombies don't throw bottles but there was no one in sight. I was looking all over for my assailant when a piece of lumber clunked the back of the head of Shorty's guard sending him temporarily to his knees. If the throw had been any harder there would have been some damage to the young man's head.

Then it started raining debris. It was coming at us from both sides; rocks, empty bottles and cans, pieces of countertops, and pieces of desks. We were struggling to defend ourselves from the constant barrage and then it got … worse.

Finally over the noise of the debris hitting flesh and pavement we could hear the ah ah – ee ee – oo oo of monkeys. The shrill cries alerted us to one of the locations that our foes inhabited; the trees that stood between us and our vehicles. James started taking the vicious little beasts out one at a time, but there were so many of them. Shorty's guard was in a nasty mood and started spraying the trees with his weapon. Monkeys scattered everywhere.

The monkeys behind us made an awful racket as well. We could not afford to stick around and turned and tried to back up in the direction we had just come from, back so that we could get in our vehicles.

And then the rhesus monkeys started doing what rhesus monkeys always seem to take so much delight in – they started throwing their own feces. Gack! What a stench!

More than a few of us had to wash off outside in the cold of the evening air tonight and leave their clothes to air out. I'm eternally grateful that I have gotten into the habit of making sure that the girls and I wear bandanas to cover our hair.

Looking back I was worried that this situation would be too much for the youngest in our group. You could have knocked me over with a feather. My Sarah and Shorty's Music were nearly in tears all right … tears of laughter. They were holding their noses and trying to avoid all the flying crap. In exasperation I told them both they better stop laughing or something nasty was going to fly in their mouths. Prophetic … but for the wrong person.

I had just turned my face back around when a nice sized glob of monkey do hit my cheek. Of course the girls started howling in laughter … but they did try to keep their mouths covered.

I wasn't the only one that got it square. We had to cross under the trees to get back to the other side of the parking lot so we could take off out of there. Even moving as quickly as we did a couple of us … including Anne … got a golden shower courtesy of the beasts from hell.

As soon as we were on the other side of the trees we took off hell for leather to the bus and dump truck. The monkeys took that moment to come down out of the trees and chase us. Shorty's guard and James, both of whom had switched to the heavy gauge shotguns that they had strapped across their backs, let fly with enough shots to dissuade the monkeys from fallowing too closely.

Each group made it to our respective vehicles and Shorty and her crew waved and said they'd call us later. We piled our people into the bus as quickly as possible and started the engine and revved it up. Just as we closed the bus folding door, the monkeys became bold again and some tried to scramble onto the bus for a ride.

As we left, Eric spotted the first group of zombies that had come because of the noise but there weren't any ragers or runners in that group, thank goodness.

The odor on that bus was just hideous. We are rather used to putrid smells because of the zombies and how that smell seems to permeate everything these days but this was way off the chart. We dropped the windows as soon as we were sure that all the monkeys had jumped from the top carrier space. Trust me, that didn't help much.

By the time we drove up to Sanctuary's gates more than one of us had to hang our heads out a window and puke.

The men were waiting for us, having been alerted by radio to have wash basins and plenty of soap ready. As we climbed off the bus some of the guys held their noses and I saw a couple give honest to goodness heaves.

I reminded them that this too would pass and if they wanted to live in anything other than permanent misery they would keep their smart aleck comments to a very bare minimum. Angus and Jim opened their mouth to say something but Scott elbowed them both while I gave them the evil eye. They closed their mouths and left the vicinity real quick.

We've still gotten a couple of snickers but I can guarantee even that went away when Anne and I threatened to open every bottle and keg we had brought back and watch it run on the ground if they didn't lay off. Angus muttered something like, "Just having a little fun, no need to be cruel about it." See if I wash his dirty drawers any more without some sweetin' up first.

But overall it was a good day. I could have done without the beasty little rhesus monkeys … those monsters from the underworld … but I guess if I had to pick I'd still chose monkeys over zombies. Well, most of the time.

Wonder if Steve is going to use any of this in one of his broadcasts? Maybe if I bribe him with a pizza or calzone he'll conveniently forget the whole incident.

But back to more serious thoughts. Poor little Ty isn't improving. He's our youngest next to Kitty unless you count the three unborns. I know Waleski is really worried. They are keeping him hydrated but everything he takes in seems to come right back out the other end. I've got some jars of babyfood left from my private stash, mostly bananas. If they can get him to hold down a little broth tomorrow then we'll see if he'll hold down some bananas. If he can hold that down we'll bump him up to some rice pudding, cornstarch pudding or something similar. Please God don't let any of the pregnant women get this. Shigella can kill babies in utero as can the likes of salmonella. Food and water safety needs to remain of the highest priority, these days this stuff can kill all too easily.

The increasing number of zombies is also worrisome. We had an upswing in the local zombie population right before the Big Horde arrived. Its natural that we would be nervous about this but combined with the fact that over half our fighting force is at far less than 100% its really scary.

I'm in agreement with Dix about the need to hit as many locations on Dale Mabry as we can, as quickly as we can. But how are we to accomplish that and do all the things around Sanctuary that need doing? I need to get the corn in the ground. I also need to start giving more attention to all the gardens now that everything has popped up. And add into that the potential return of another large horde? The only good thing that I can hope for is that with the wider communication network that Steve is providing, surely we would hear something before it was right no top of us?

So much to think about. So much to do. We've got a bigger population here in Sanctuary than we've ever had, but I'm not sure that maybe we couldn't use a few more people. But then again, more people means that we would need more space, food, and everything else. Argh, my head hurts. I'm going to bed.


	146. Day 185

**Day 185 (Thursday)**

My turn in the kitchen first thing this morning. Good thing I'm not too cranky first thing 'cause all of the little monkey noises that were being made on the sly nearly drove me to throw something at a certain band of men that had a little bit too much time on their hands.

Thanks to our flock of chickens we've been able to cut back on using our powdered eggs. In fact, the hens are laying almost faster than we can eat them. We continue to use as many eggless recipes as possible so we don't get too dependent in case something happens to the flock. We're still working on a way to get an incubator going but in the mean time I'm letting the bantam hens – which are notoriously broody compared to regular hens – sit a nest of full-sized eggs. Mr. Morris figures that should work until we can find the parts to repair the incubator they brought with their things. And if we can find a natural way to raise the chickens with the least intervention on our part, we'll score a huge bonus. We also need to deal with the raccoon population because Reba caught one stealing eggs the other morning.

This last week the eggs have really been piling up so I decided to splurge and make Fiesta Eggs for those of us able to eat. I took a couple of chorizos, sliced them and then fried it up with some rehydrated bell peppers and diced onions. After I had finished with that I dumped everything in a colander to drain the grease off. I put the grease in with the dogs' rations.

Next, in the same skillet I had fried the chorizo mixture in, I dumped canned tomatoes and a few chopped canned chilies, some salsa, and some farmer's cheese that Betty had made the day before. I stirred everything together over low heat until the cheese melted.

In a large mixing bowl I beat together some eggs and then added some fresh sour cream that Reba had made from cream skimmed off yesterday's milk as well as a little milk to thin things out a bit. Then I added in the sausage mixture and the tomato mixture to the egg mixture.

After I had stirred things together, I dumped it into a couple of baking dishes and put it in our oven. While the eggs baked in a slow oven for about 25 minutes I made a huge batch of skillet toast.

I also made a batch of creamy grits. I figured that our recovering members would appreciate the toast and grits and it did seem to perk them right up.

Ty is finally able to keep down liquids. I made him a little bit of warm jello water and he really went to town on that but Rilla can't get him on anything approaching solid yet. Maybe tomorrow.

James looks half-starved. He's definitely up and about and in full recovery but you can tell he's lost some weight. I think on top of everything else he must be going through a bit of a growth spurt. I noticed yesterday that his pants were about two or three inches too short again. I'm glad we went ahead and got him the 32 longs yesterday even though he complained he'd have to roll them up. He's taller than Scott is and all we can do is pray we can keep him in clothes until he is finished growing. I told him if he didn't stop growing I was going to put him in kilts like Uncle Angus. He told me I'd have to catch him first.

Speaking of growing I heard Rose and James laughing this morning. I got irritated at first thinking that James was recounting my face of monkey do. Then Scott said, "Sissy?"

I snapped back, "What?!" He laughed and told me to stand next to Sarah. Sure enough she is nearly two inches taller than I am already and the girl won't be 13 until the end of March. I sighed while the rest of the family laughed. I told them to go ahead and have their fun and did a little laughing of my own after I got over my mully-grumps. I'm happy that they can laugh even if it is as my expense. It seems not that long ago we didn't feel we had anything to laugh at.

We did have something on the bizarre side happen today. Matlock was taking a turn on the Wall when he spotted some zombies surrounding a house about three blocks to the south of Sanctuary. We were concerned that someone(s) had gotten trapped so a contingent of sharp shooters started picking off the zombies one at a time. It took a while but eventually all of the zombies were sanitized.

No movement from the house. A rescue group went over there but returned without anyone in tow. We were all fairly depressed but then Dix said that there hadn't been anyone in the house to begin with. When we asked him what had attracted the zombies he said it was the smoke alarm! Apparently we had missed taking the batteries out of the smoke alarms in that house and they had started that infernal cheeping that would drive a saint to cussing.

While slightly humorous, the zombies really are mindless, it was also a little scary. There were either a bunch of zombies that were close enough to hear that cheeping or they can hear from much further away than we've estimated. Or worse, they have some means of communication that we can't see or hear whereby one zombie will find a "sound maker" and communicate its find to other zombies in some way. I sincerely hope the last is not true.

The bulk of my day has been taken up by putting in the first rows of corn. My rows were one hundred feet long and I planted four rows today by myself. Tomorrow I'll plant four more (with help from here on out) and the same for every succeeding day until I've used up all of my field space. Hopefully this way not all of the corn will come in at the same time, but there will be enough mature at any given point to cross-pollinate once they start tassling.

I drilled the seeds so that they went into the ground two inches deep and ten inches apart and the rows were three feet apart. With 100 foot rows that meant that I planted about 480 seeds today.

After all that work I did on the corn I decided to sit and sip a little bit of citrus juice that I mixed with soda water. It wasn't quite as nice as sipping ice cold cola, but it was still very nice; and I was having a wonderful time patting myself on the back on the good job I had done when I saw them. The demon varmints. Tree rats. Those ding dang squirrels! Those little barnacles on my butt were digging up my corn seeds and eating them. ARGH!

I called for the dogs and they chased them off for about an hour and then they got tired of running and they gave up. The little kids had an even shorter attention span for protecting the corn seeds. James came over and shot a … what do you call a bunch of squirrels? You call a bunch of birds that are shot a brace of birds. You call a bunch of fish that are caught a string of fish. Well, whatever you call them there was nearly two dozen of them. I hope that has put a dent in the population some. Angus and Mr. Morris, both recovering a little too slowly for my peace of mind, took them and skinned them. Four of the carcasses had to be thrown on the fire because they had worms really badly. We wouldn't have even wanted the dogs to eat them. Squirrels don't really have much of a pelt, but what pelt could be used was cleaned and put on stretcher boards to cure where the dogs can't get to them and use them as chew toys.

Only one pelt wasn't worth saving, James was able to able to get nearly all headshots with a .22 but one of the wormy ones was acting too spazzy for him to get cleanly.

The clean squirrels were quartered up and made a nice squirrel stew. Angus said he'll try and take some more out tomorrow if I would let Bekah and a couple of the other little kids help him. He'd teach them some tracking and hunting tips at the same time. I told him I was fine with Bekah going with him assuming she got her chores finished but he'd need to clear it with the other parents as I wasn't going to speak for them. I hope the kids behave themselves tomorrow, I don't think Angus is quite up to all of their shenanigans yet.

Something has to be done. I can't keep losing things in the gardens to squirrel damage. If I catch them digging in the garden or digging up the seeds I've planted one more time I'm going to go Hiroshima all over the place.

I tried to get the cats to go out there and hunt but Horatio … that's what we call the mostly red calico tom … nearly clawed the heck out of me. I wish he'd take as much delight in stalking the squirrels as he does in lying in wait to pounce on us humans. Austin told me today that it would be a relatively simple procedure to fix Horatio: As for the evil kitty situation...yeah I can take care of that easily. "Fixing" a male cat is almost laughably easy; you trim/shave the hair over the testicles, sterilize the area with iodine, a nice little dose of Ketamine to make kitty sleepy and not rip my damn hand off, incise the area directly above the testicles, grasp the testicles with a gauze pad and pull firmly, but not too fast. After that a simple spray of iodine over the incisions, and wait for him to wake up. No stitches or butterfly bandages required! Incisions will close in about 2-3 days and be completely healed within 2 weeks of so.

As long as it works I'll be happy. Horatio is beginning to think he is kin to cougars and panthers. The day he falls out of a tree on me is the day he's going to have to find him a new roost to call home.

And hunting of one kind leads me to hunting of another. Our smokehouse will be bare in no time flat. Angus and Scott are supposed to go deer hunting but we really need to carry out another major hunt. I'm not sure when that is supposed to happen but hopefully sooner rather than later.

Something has me spooked. Scott told me it was just the monkeys or all the men getting sick. I'm not sure; maybe. I try not and heed the feelings too much; I don't want anyone to think I'm being a hysterical female but … something just feels off, weird, crowding me metaphysically.

Tomorrow I'll get another four rows of corn planted and work some in the other gardens. The radishes are just about ready to pull and I hope to slice them and serve them with a wild fresh green salad. And if Angus and the kids do bring in some squirrels I might have time to make some Squirrel sausage; put those bloody little beggars to some good use.

Oh, and I found out who Shorty's guard was. It was Steve's son. Apparently he and Shorty have a his and hers family. I think that's cool. I never would have guessed it but Dix said he has estimated Steve's group to be between 20 and 30 people in size based on the different voices that he's heard on their call sign and the few facts that he's gathered from listening to Steve's broadcasts. Seems Steve's family was the forward guard of a group called the Ohio Safe Action Group or OSAG for short. I'll admit to being relieved that they have more than just a couple of people capable of defending their radio station. It would be a prime target for raiders and thieves.

I should ask Shorty if they are using the water tower as their water source. Back when I was going to USF, the tower provided over 95% of all of the potable water on the large campus. It wasn't great water but it was still water. If I remember correctly water was pumped up into the tower and then the force of gravity from the tall tower sent it out to all of the main buildings helped along by water pumps ever so often along the system. If they could shut the water off to the rest of campus and if only allowed the building or buildings they are living in access to that water, they could very well still have running water. Color me envious if they do.

We managed to get the solar hooked up to our well but we are reserving it for the main garden where Mabel's house used to be and for pulling water for treatment. Until we can figure out a way to test for we will continue to treat the water before letting anyone drink it. We've already gotten more lucky than we had any right to get that our pregnant ladies didn't get dysentery. I don't think we need to take any more chances down that road.

David and James saw smoke to the south of us, perhaps a smoky cooking fire from wet wood. It was a couple of more blocks beyond where the zombies surrounded that house. Tomorrow Dix is going to take a couple of guards and go recce in that direction to see what's up. It's a little too close for comfort and he wants to avoid any potentially unpleasant surprises.

I'm done in for the night. Kinda feel like I might be coming down with a head cold or something. Might have gotten a little dust in my sinuses. I'll wash my sinuses out and then head off to bed but before I do I want to make sure and make a short list of all the things we talked about in Council tonight as far as what projects we need to make some head way on:  
*Learning to turn the angora fur, llama fur, and whatever else we can come up with into thread that we can weave or knit with.  
*Build several more greenhouses so that we can supply fresh foods for our group out of season.  
*Propagating new fruit trees.  
*Turning one room of the food storehouse into a "cooler" using evaporation, fans, and solar energy.  
*Converting more wells so that they will run off of solar (and finding more solar panels).  
*Drill some ag wells by the gardens so that we can use drip irrigation when the rains don't come.  
*Gathering runs along Dale Mabry Hwy  
*Establishing some trade relationships

There were other things discussed but for now those are the ones that stand out in my mind. I know Dix and Matlock are heading some kind of task force for finding more ammo or converting to some other form of defense to conserve what ammo we have. What we have looks like a lot to me, but Matt says it won't go far if we have to start defending the compound against raiders or another large horde.


	147. Day 186

**Day 186 (Friday)**

Today has been one of those days that are almost too full to describe.

Dix was taking no chances and at first light took McElroy, J. Paul, Clay Jr., and Brian and went to go investigate the smoke we had seen late yesterday. When there is a danger of raiders or zombies Dix and Matlock have designed a series of clicks to use with the radios rather than words to avoid attracting any more attention than necessary.

About forty-five minutes after they headed out we got some clicks that translated "friends – emergency – watch for – incoming". Not knowing exactly what to make of that Matlock set a watch for any "incoming" and got Waleski and some of the guards prepared to head out if necessary. The radio clicks are useful but lack a lot of nuance.

About 15 minutes after the clicked message J. Paul came speeding up to the gate on a 10-speed Schwin that looks like it has seen better days.

"Y'all, we got one very pregnant lady out there that we need transport for. She's with a small group of folks that are a bit battered up … and the sister of that crazy dude is with them. King Al? But we gotta put some steam in it. Looks like troubles been trying to find 'em for about a week now and ain't that far off." He continued talking directly to Matlock, "Sir, Sgt. Dix asks if you would please send the bus and the Hummer with a driver and a guard or two for each. He's hardened their line in case the raiders that have been chasing them get there before we get back to 'em but we got to evac the pregnant lady and some kids asap."

That was quite a bit of excitement before breakfast was even off the table but we did what we had to do. The bus went out with Cease driving and James and David for guards. The Hummer went out with Austin driving and Chris riding shotgun. The rest of us hit our marks and did what we had trained to do, defend Sanctuary and help others when possible.

The vehicles, drivers, and guards took off and since we had yet to hear any clicks of warn or any telltale "pops" of gunfire we figured the vehicles made. After a few more moments Dix clicked "loading" which told us the transports had arrived and they were putting the people on board. Next we got "returning" in click code.

They were within 200 yards of the front gate when out of a side street came four Kawaski crotch rockets gunning for our vehicles and the people in them. James took out two of the raiders before you could say "Bob's your uncle." The remaining two were returning fire and were joined by a pickup truck with a reinforced camper on the back and a machine gun mounted on top of the camper.

Matlock lets off a string of expletives and then smiles crazily as he watches someone, Dix or McElroy most likely, toss a small can of something out the window. Right as the pickup starts to drive over the can, it happened so quickly they couldn't avoid it, the canister revealed itself to be an explosive device. The detonation lifts the pickup off of its front wheels and it careens into one of the motorcycles. The other two are taken out in the by gunfire from our side.

Since our vehicles didn't slow down I assumed that meant there were more where that came from. I was right. We've gotten pretty good about timing the gate opening and closing so that incoming vehicles don't have to come to a complete stop and a good thing in this instance. The bus was in and the Hummer was halfway in when gunfire erupted from a large caliber something of other. The Hummer lost a tire and spare but the remainder of the … shells, ammo, whatever you call it … hit the gate itself and the Wall. Either the person firing was a terrible shot or it was coming from far enough away that their trajectory was off … possibly a little of both. The movies may make it look simple, but those heavy caliber machine guns take training to use accurately.

The bus didn't even have time to roll to a stop before James and David were out and off to the top of the Wall. Both had that "my biscuits are burning" look that sad they were highly irritated with whoever was shooting at them. My son hit the guard tower and immediately set up sniper fire against anyone foolish enough to allow themselves to be seen.

We were blessed that the ammo wasn't armor piercing or not even our heavy gauge steel box cars would have withstood the raiders' fire power.

Dix, Matt, and the guards had our defense well in hand so the rest of us turned to help the new survivors.

I didn't get to meet everyone right away but basically the new survivors are as big a mixed bag as those of us already living in Sanctuary but with the same perseverance crossed with stubbornness.

Ronan Cross is a 29 year old man originally from Washington State. He was visiting a friend in Orlando and playing tourist when things totally fell apart. The kids were a little scared of him at first because he shaves his head and at 6 foot it gives him a bit of a bad guy look; but as soon as they figured out he smiles much more than he glowers the kids were fine. Ronan had lots of patience for them until Johnnie, Bubby, and Ray showed him their "science experiment." Hmmmm … seems there is another person here in Sanctuary that has as little tolerance for spiders as I do.

Curtis Stone is younger than Damion but not by much, he just looks like it. He's 27 and has a small, wiry build. I'll be honest, he reminds me a bit of Davy Jones from the Monkees. I'm not sure he would appreciate the comparison but he has that professional jockey build although at 5'6" he's a little too tall for that profession. And he's from the neck of the woods where my family came from; Tennessee. He was in north Florida hunting when the state line was closed off. Unable to get back home, he attached himself to different survivor groups as a protector – I watched him absolutely tear up one of the raiders later in the day. I heard Curtis mutter, "Size does not compensate for stupidity" when a couple of the girls oooohed and aaaaahed at the display. Poor guy, I have a feeling he's going to have to hide a bit until the girls figure out he is older than he looks.

Then there is Charlene … King Al's little sister … and her niece (Kelly) and nephew (Al the Third). Charlene spilled their story to me and I'll recount it in a bit.

Nick and Terra are one of the couples and Terra is the "very pregnant lady" everyone was so anxious for. They are both in their early 20s but apparently have been together since highschool so they seem older … or at least better established than most people their age would be. Boy is Terra pregnant. She's gotta be 37 or 38 weeks along and looks like the baby may have already started dropping. If any gent ever reads this journal it means that the baby is turning and lowering down and getting in position to be born. That's a miserable time because the baby is pushing against your bladder and basically anything that gets in its way. You feel like you are walking around with a bowling ball between your legs.

But the good news is that both Nick and Terra have some training in the medical field. Nick was a lab tech. He downplayed this by saying he was more of a glorified dishwasher and gopher but Waleski said not to play that down because at least he could be counted on to understand how critically important directions can be for a good outcome. I think Ski also mentioned something about pharmacy work to him. Terra on the other hand already has several years of training under her belt and has worked as a CNA and was on her way to finishing up her nursing degree. You could see the wheels going in Waleski's head when he found that out. Double bonus points is that Terra's specialty was going to be labor and delivery.

Terra's training is no guarantee for problem free pregnancies and births for our ladies here in Sanctuary but if I had to guess it was going to save Waleski from a cardiac arrest. She'll also be able to help train Rose and Melody in areas that Ski is having trouble with, not to mention he is happy to have another adult female that can help with any female patients.

From what I understand Nick and Terra were in a bad way when they were found. They were part of a group that Curtis was with before it fell apart … or should I say before it was picked apart due to zombies and poor choices by some of its members. Of the original dozen people Curtis, Nick, and Terra are the only ones left. Neither Nick or Terra were into "survivalism" but Nick has done everything he could to ensure his wife and unborn child's survival and that's good enough for me. We're all learning as we go to some extent.

The other couple is a little older than Scott and I are and they want to continue down to the Miami area to look for their two college aged children who were living with friends when things went crazy down there. Then there is another older gentleman and his adult son that have the Keys as their destination of choice. They figure to find an island, barricade it somehow, and live in a Caribbean paradise. I told Scott that would be fine … until the next hurricane came along and wiped them out. He told me that people are entitled to their own dreams and he wouldn't stand in their way when they left.

Scott doesn't want anyone around Sanctuary that doesn't want to be here. He said that is counterproductive and not worth the hassle. Can't say I totally disagree with him either.

I didn't really find all of this out until this evening. We were too busy to do the normal meet and greet round of social calls. We had two priorities to take care of simultaneously … the raiders and Terra's condition.

Waleski, now that the time had come, was cool as a cucumber. Terra was installed in the hospital. It was a couple of hours before we got the news that Terra's labor hadn't been true labor but stress induced Braxton-Hicks. To be safe however, Terra remains in the hospital under observation with Nick by her side. Her blood pressure is still a little higher than Waleski is comfortable with.

The rest of the morning was spent in a siege-like atmosphere. The raiders made a few attempts to get closer but our sharp shooters picked them off. The women not assisting on guard duty helped get the refugees checked over and prepared lunch for everyone since breakfast had pretty much been a wipe out. Sarah, Bekah, and some of the other girls did their share to help by making a couple hundred tortillas that could be stuffed with the various easy fillings that were served up buffet style.

I was on the part of the Wall that runs along the outside of the large animal enclosure. As focused as I was on the task at hand I still managed to notice that it wouldn't hurt to clean up all the manure the animals had made and to decry the fact that there was always more work than we had time to address.

Before I had time to think much more Charlene asked if she could be with me, her niece and nephew were sleeping on the benches of the mess hall being watched by Sarah and Josephine. Poor kid, both of her eyes are black and her lip is split. You could see her hands and arms were scratched and bruised up as well. I asked if she had been checked out.

"That girl named Rose did. She's your sister or daughter right?"

I smiled, sensing a bit of over the top schmoozing, "Daughter. What did she say?"

Charlene opened her mouth, then her face crumpled and she said, "Al's dead. Mona and her baby … something went wrong. Mona turned. She got Krystal before Al could put her down, it was one of his normal days. If he'd been crazy he'd dealt with her a lot quicker. But it … there was something wrong with the baby. It died, sort of. It was … it didn't have any teeth of anything but somehow Al still got infected by handling it and putting the poor thing out of its misery. Or maybe it was from all the blood when Mona pushed the baby out. I don't know. Al … he just … "

She gulped and lung full of air like she was trying not to cry. "We had sent those people your way a couple of days before. Al told me I had to take Kelly and little Al and catch up with them or to get to you guys on our own if I couldn't find them. We been hiding from that raider group … Al called them the Geriatric Jackasses because we never saw no young people riding with them … even before we met you guys. They shoot anyone between 40 and 20 and anyone younger than that they can't turn into a sex slave. "

It was hard for me to focus on defense of the Wall and Charlene's story at the same time but I had to. I stuck my hand out while I still watched the trees and she took it. Still without looking directly at her I pulled her closer. She sat down next to where I stood and leaned against my leg the way kids will when they just need some physical contact.

Charlene continued, "Al was gonna off himself when those jerks came around again. He had me take the kids and scram while he drew them off. He was too sick and weak though. He didn't last long and I didn't move fast enough. The caught him and tied him up. They caught us too. You know what they wanted from me but by that time of the day they were too drunk to … you know … they couldn't … um …"

She sighed deeply and I wanted to wring some raider necks. "Did they hurt you in … other ways?"

"No ma'am. They kicked me around some and blamed me cause they couldn't … you know … but mostly they were having too much fun torturing Al. That hurt me worse than what they wanted to do would have. I'd a let 'em if it would have helped Al. Al's PTSD had kicked in and then being sick … it was bad."

She was silent for a second and then kept on. "I was able to get me and the kids untied after dark fell and the rest of the raiders passed out drunk. I … I put Al's body to sleep permanently and took the kids and escaped. We ran like hell. We caught up to this other group the next day. The raiders had already been after them too. We'd get so far and have to stop cause that lady named Terra kept hurting so bad. Then the pains would stop and we'd move in a little further, jogging here and there and losing the raiders for a little bit. Yesterday the van we were riding in broke down and I guess during the night the raiders caught up and finally gotten bored of their game and meant to kill us."

As I opened my mouth to say something she rushed on, "Can we stay here? The kids and I? We'll work our share. I can do a lot more than people think I can. I took care of Al and Mona and Krystal as much as they took care of me. I just can't run no more, I'm too tired."

Not able to give her a 100 percent answer I put my hand on her shoulder to comfort and encourage her. A moment later I looked down and she was asleep.

I let Charlene sleep. I wasn't sure how I would convince Scott but this needed us. While I kept watch over my portion of our perimeter I made up and discarded dozens of petitions that would allow Charlene, Kelly, and little Al stay with us. About an hour later I found Scott had been wondering how he was going to convince me of the exact same thing. Curtis had told Scott, Matlock, and Dix their group's pieced together story.

Most of Sanctuary had already taken part in an emergency council and everyone had agreed that whoever wanted to could remain. About half the survivors will stay; the other couple and the father/son duo opted to leave at first light tomorrow if possible.

I didn't complain about not being included in the meeting; it came out the way I wanted it to and I had nothing to complain about. Scott, Rose, David, and James represented our family. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?

Matlock took my position so that I could participate in the lunch rotation that was going on. I woke Charlene and Scott and I took her down and made sure that she, Kelly, and little Al ate, got cleaned up from the skin out, and had clean clothes to wear. Then I took Rose, Melody, Sarah, and Bekah aside and asked them if they had any reservations. Luckily they didn't. My biological children seem to have accepted this phase in our family's development and my adopted or foster kids already thought of the whole process as "normal."

It's a squeeze but nowhere near as bad as we've experienced at various points in the past. And besides, Melody, Trent, and Belle will be moving out in the not too distant future. Charlene, Kelly, and little Al will fill the gap they leave behind.

I was half into my third bite of lunch when the raiders made their move. They had split their forces and tried to surround us with a line too thin to hold. This proved Dix's theory that these raiders were nothing more than harriers. They had survived by pestering smaller and less well-defended groups or by taking on mobile convoys. They didn't have the strategy or manpower necessary to take on a full defended compound like Sanctuary. Still, had we not planned ahead they could have done some damage.

They had sent another truck with a machine gun at our front gate and a non-military jeep 4x4 dressed up with another machine gun at our rear gate. Had they been able to get up any speed they could have rammed the gates but after the last raider battle we had reconfigured our approaches so that this couldn't happen.

The buses were the biggest vehicle that could enter the main compound these days, and that only by the practiced drivers. There was no straight, direct way to approach the gates. Concrete barricades guided all traffic into a zig zag approach from a nearly right angle to the gates. You couldn't avoid using this approach because there were pits, concertina wire, large pieces of broken blocks, and tire destroyers where there weren't even more concrete barriers. And all of this starts about 100 yards away from the gate.

Both vehicles were stopped cold before they could get that close. James at the front gate and Matlock at the rear took out the drivers and the gunners and disabled the vehicles themselves with well-placed shots.

The raiders had gotten grappling hooks from some place and were trying to use them to climb the Wall in several different locations. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

A third vehicle, a limousine believe it or not, made another play for the rear gate. This one was trickier. This thing must have been in diplomatic service or belonged to a gangster or something. It had bullet proof glass and armored exterior. However, someone forgot about its undercarriage. Samuel, who would have easily made his highschool varsity football team had things not devolved into Night of the Living Dead, lobbed the perfect pass putting on of Matlock's homemade explosive cans right in the path of the limo's wheels. Whooomp! It's left us with a heck of a mess to clean up but I'll suffer a little sweat for safety.

Ronan said there was another vehicle, this one a panel truck, but at the time we weren't seeing it. The raiders, the few left, were trying to rendezvous and retreat. Matlock and Dix were having none of that. Some of the men were standing around bouncing like an over anxious pups. All it took was a particularly nasty grin from Matlock and a nod from Dix and Angus, Austin, Brian, Chris, David, and Jim headed out to do a little "clean up." They were at it a couple of hours. The remaining raiders were more cautious. The found the panel truck within fifteen minutes of being out, took out the raider that had been left to guard it, and temporarily disabled it so the other raiders couldn't use it as a getaway tool.

I'm not sure I'm totally comfortable with our rules for raiders but that doesn't mean that I don't agree with them. One day I may look back and wonder what we were thinking, but that will be a far piece off from today. One of the few laws in Sanctuary that we've actually bothered to write down is the automatic death sentence for raiders that attack Sanctuary or its citizens. There is no trial, no jury, no appeal, no exception. Every man knew this when they headed out … and the sentences were carried out with all due haste.

It was another hour before all the corpses were disposed of in Juicer's compactor for removal to the body dump tomorrow. Before that job was finished however, life had already started to return to normal within Sanctuary's Wall and I was taking may turn at being in charge of dinner.

Regardless of how crazy the world gets, people still need to eat. I just kept that at the forefront of my mind as I tried to balance my ideals of pre-NRS and the reality I live today.

I made one of my favorite "easy" dishes for dinner; Skillet Spanish Rice. To stretch our meat supply out I replaced most of the ground beef called for with TVP that I had rehydrated with beef bouillon instead of just plain water. For the rest of the meat, I put in two quarts of ground beef that I had canned during the crazy days that Scott and I were trying to save everything we had in our big stand up freezer. I threw in some rehydrated chopped onion and diced green peppers.

After everything had "plumped" I fried the TVP, chopped onions, and green peppers in just enough butter to make the onions nearly transparent. Then I added uncooked rice (about 1 cup per pound of meat), chili powder, salt, pepper, cumin, and some tomato paste (about 8 oz per pound of meat). The I added water (about 1 ½ cups per cup of rice) and brought everything to a boil. Next I reduced the heat, put the lid on, and let it simmer for about 15 to 20 minutes.

For dessert I used up some of the stale miniature marshmallows that we seemed to find in every other house that we've gathered from the last couple of months. I made Pinto Bean Fudge. My family knew what was in it but they had a hard time convincing some of the other folks that they were on the level. What I like is that the fudge is actually a good protein source.

The recipe calls for evaporated milk, sugar, marshmallows, chocolate chips, nuts (optional), vanilla, and cooked pinto beans that have been drained. The hardest part is the first step where you combine the milk and sugar and boil them together for eight minutes. You have to stir constantly or the milk will burn and give it a nasty taste, not to mention ruin your pan. After that all you do is take it off the heat, stir in the rest of the ingredients until the marshmallows and chocolate chips melt and then dump the whole mess into a buttered pan to cool.

Rule in our house has always been he who does the dishes gets to lick the bowl. That means I usually had a couple of kids fighting for the chance to wash a few dishes so they could lick the spoon. This time by unanimous vote, it was Kelly and little Al who were given the bowl and spoon to lick and they didn't have to wash a dish either. When I tried to give Charlene a lick she said, "No, let them have it all." As she watched them carefully devour every smear leaving the bowl and utensil nearly spotless, a single tear traveled down her cheek.

"My mom, she ran off when I was real little. Al used to tell me it was because she couldn't handle what had happened to him. But Dad let slip one time when he was drunk that that was just an excuse, she really ran off with a man and just never came home. My dad was a terrible cook. Al was the only one that even tried but half the time … you know what he was like. Then he married Mona and as crazy as she was she was a great cook, but she wasn't really into kids. We kind of didn't exist in her world. We weren't real. Al loved Mona and I know she was good to him and for him, but I always wished there was a grown up woman that could teach me to be a real girl and do all of that girl stuff with."

I asked her if there hadn't been other women in her family she could have turned to.

"No ma'am. Well, there might have been but I didn't know 'em. My mother didn't have any family that I know of and Daddy ran off most of what little bit of family he had. Those that he didn't run off couldn't deal with Al being like he was."

"What about teachers?"

"Not really. The school I went to wasn't a school where a teacher was your friend. They spent too much time being afraid of the students or gossiping about how bad their love life was. I went to the Alternative Day School," she muttered under her breath. Then almost in anger she said, "People used to look at Daddy and Al and Mona and think I just had to be the same as them. I was just some poor little white trash girl that wasn't even good enough to be let go to a real school so that I could go to college and be something other than what they had decided I could be."

"Well, you showed them," I told her. "Probably most, if not all, of them are gone now; most likely because they weren't survivors and had been living in a rose-colored glasses kind of world where the bad stuff happened to everyone but them. But here you are. And now you have the chance that no one would give you before. What are you going to do with it?"

First she looked at me like I was crazier than her brother and then … then she looked like someone who had suddenly and totally accepted that the rules really had changed. She didn't have to be the poor little girl from the wrong side of the tracks any more. She could be the best person she was capable of being, the person that everyone had kept telling her she could never be.

She was quiet all through dinner and wouldn't get too far from my side. She wasn't used to being so readily accepted. It was a heartbreakingly new experience for her and left her rather subdued. I have a feeling that most of the super chipper I'm-just-fine-no-matter-what-you-think personality that we saw at the fairgrounds was really part of her emotional armor. Scott and I are hoping that she will relax as the days go along but it'll probably get worse before it gets better. It's hard to let go of years' worth of hurt; it certainly doesn't happen overnight. She, Kelly, and little Al also need to deal with the death of King Al and everything else they've experienced over the last six months.

We had thought to put Charlene in with Rose and Melody, Kelly in with the girls and little Al in with the boys but Kelly and Al refused to sleep apart from Charlene. We wound up fixing them up some sleeping pads in the living room so they could all stay together. Everything will work out eventually. It took time for Melody, Belle, and Trent to assimilate into things as well.

Now that I've stopped to look back on today's events, I'm amazed at how normal I feel. Not too long ago raiders would have had my knees knocking and in a near panic, worrying about my kids and everyone else in Sanctuary. But that didn't happen. Come to think of it I didn't even pull a mother hen with James. Maybe there are some things that I'm starting to accept.

Life's not going back. Too many have died. We've been dealt too many blows. But they weren't death blows. Not for those of us here in Sanctuary. I would say not for Steve's group either. Probably not for a lot of the little bands of survivors all over Florida … heck all over the world.

I don't know what tomorrow is going to bring, my intuition tells me there is some stuff coming we aren't going to like. But, whatever does come, I know we have the capacity to get through it. If we don't, it won't be for lack of trying.


	148. Day 188

**Day 188 (Sunday) – February 4th**

I was too busy to do any writing yesterday. I wasn't the only one either. The early part of today wasn't much better but I finally told Scott we needed to stop and breathe or we were going to pass out so about mid-afternoon he and I found an out of the way spot and just sat and talked for a while.

At first light yesterday morning the four adults who had decided not to remain in Sanctuary departed. They took the panel truck (that we had emptied out in the woods before bringing it in) as their transportation and they hoped to get at least as far as Port Charlotte, maybe even Cape Coral. Brandon practically pleaded with them to give up going that far south. He'd come from there and knew for a fact how bad things had gotten. But I don't think anyone could have stopped Scott and I if we were looking for our children either.

Water was easy enough to share with them now that we had the well up and running and we gave them the food that had been in one of the raiders' pickup trucks. It was no skin off our nose as we kept back what was in the panel truck and most of the ammo and weapons we had taken off of the raiders' corpses and they didn't seem to mind the blood that was splattered all over the cans and labels. The panel truck had nearly a full tank of gas and it was up to them to find fuel to keep them going. Maybe one of these days our generosity could extend to fuel but that was probably years down the road when we were manufacturing enough for our own use and had a good supply strategically stockpiled as well.

We even sent them out with a full belly of grits doctored up with sausage and cheese and a nice basket of fresh baked biscuits in case they got hungry before they could stop and cook a real meal.

Patricia told me later in the day that Brandon really had had problems with the idea of people going south. He said he's family nearly lost their lives coming north to escape all of that and it still wasn't enough. Apparently, by way of Josephine to Patricia, Brandon now wonders if maybe they shouldn't have done more to find out whether his older brother had survived. I hope he doesn't get it into his head that he needs to go find out for himself one way or the other. If what remains of the centralized government really wanted to do something they could create a database of people looking for their families; that way if people want to be found there is a mechanism for that. If someone doesn't want to be found … well, they should be left alone and families will have to find some way to accept that.

I know some days I want to know for sure about my brother and nephews one way or another; no matter what the answer is at least I would finally know. Other days I'm content to leave it in the arms of Morpheus and not think about it at all.

After the four adults heading south left we also had to say good bye to a hunting party. Lucky for me I don't have to write out what happened on that little adventure. Poor Austin was lamed up and not going anywhere so he wrote it up for me.

* * *

As written by Austin:  
 _I sat in the driver's seat of the F-350 and listened to the engine's tick tick tick as it cooled itself. Around me were the few healthy male residents of Sanctuary that volunteered to join me on this little insane trip._

 _A day or two before the great dysentery outbreak, Scott, Dix, Matlock, Brian, Angus, and I all hatched this plan to go to the Lowry Park Zoo and restock our meat supplies with anything we possibly could. Of course I just about wet myself when they asked me to lead the expedition since. I had a feeling they were testing my college education out to see if it was worth the paper it would have been written on and wanted to make sure I really did know what I was talking about. Scott produced a color map, which he stole out of Sissy's supplies, from his back pocket and we set about making a plan of action. After we had the basics worked out, I voiced a very serious question about what to do if some of the large African species had escaped and were likely roaming the park at will. Everyone looked slightly dejected and let down when the thought of lions, tigers, and bears chasing us came up._

 _I could say that I blame them. BUT, my stupid self decided it was time to unveil my well-hidden birthday present from the prior year. Running back to the barracks, I came back with a form-fitted rifle case and sat it down on the table over the map. I could see the questioning look from those around me, so I popped the latches and swung it open to reveal quite possibly, my last birthday present ever; a Winchester Model 70 Safari grade rifle, chambered in .458 Winchester Magnum. I had taken the time to have it bore sighted and even though my shoulder was useless for the next 3 days, I was able to sight it in on paper as well._

 _A few whistles and approving looks from the men seated around the table told me I had not only been given the task of leading the "Safari", but I was gonna be on point. After the drooling session was done with the rifle and the plan was streamlined, we broke the news to everyone else in Sanctuary. Initially the plan was met with a chorus of loud "NO!", especially from the women. But in the end we were able to talk them into seeing the necessity of the plan. After everyone was feeling better, we piled into the F-350 and took off for the zoo._

 _Sissy was the least vocal of the opposition to the run since she knew just how low we were on meat and other supplies that could possibly be obtained from the park. Her only concern was that we wouldn't overdo it and have a relapse or something like that. Once the all clear was given for the area, the supply group in the bus would move in to clean out what they could of the shops and stores while we continued to hunt for food._

 _So there we all sat, staring at the now overgrown gates of the zoo and listening to the complete silence of what used to be a major hub for families seeking to distract their children for a few precious hours. About 30 yards to the rear was the supply group consisting of Sissy, Saen, my Sarah, Tina, Melody, Anne, and Rose with Glenn driving. Since they were still raring to go even after the Woman's run, they perfectly fit the bill to scavenge what they could in our wake._

 _Myself, Dix, Brian, Angus, and Jim were the five idiots that volunteered to go deep into the park and hunt. Everyone was carrying some type of heavy caliber rifle or shotgun with slugs; I had my Model 70 and a 1911A1 on my hip, Dix was using his M4 and had a Remington 870 shotgun slung on his back, Brian was using my M-14, Angus had his Mauser and a S &W M29 revolver he picked up along the way during his raider hunt, and Jim had scrounged up an old M1 Garand. I wanted everyone to make it back at the end of the day, so rather than go with a light load of equipment, we took as much as we could since running from these beasts was usually a really bad idea._

 _Dix and I both had handheld radio's and we could communicate with each other if we got separated and we could let the scavenge team know when it was all clear. Their primary targets were the Zoo School that they could hit while they were waiting for us, the main event center, the several restaurants scattered through the park, and the Starbucks coffee place._

 _I made sure that they kept out of the west area of the park where the more dangerous species were located, the far east area of the park where the cheetahs and hyenas were at, and the far north were the alligators were kept. Our plan was that If we had time left over we were going to hunt for the main feed storage and hopefully stock-up on the dry feed for the animals back at Sanctuary._

 _The women were armed with the SKS's and AK-47's that they had retrieved from the raiders and surrounding houses since the 7.62x39 hit much harder than the 5.56x45 and of course Sissy had that damned machete she always insists she carry instead of her .22 pistol. Hell, it was a big enough fight just to get her to take the AK-47 she had slung over her back; only Scott had been able to convince her to take it in place of her .22. Everyone had drilled with the weapon they were using and reloading. While shaky at first, eventually performance leveled out and everyone became semi-proficient at swapping mags and loading stripper clips._

 _I opened the door to the one-ton pickup and stepped out into the warm, humid air that these people called winter. Yeah, everyone else is wearing coats and complaining about being cold and here I am sweating through my poor choice of clothing except for Angus who had had the good sense to wear his kilt._

 _I was granted permission to root through the storage containers and managed to find some khaki hunting pants, a long sleeved khaki shirt, a leather vest with cartridge holders sewn into the material, some knee high leather boots, a safari hat, and a fake monocle came out of the house that contained the odd canned food and the mounted animals._

 _What the hell was I THINKING?! The outfit went well with the bad rendition of a British lord on the Hunt and I about killed Jim with laughter when I popped off with my posh, fake accent saying "Well dear ol' chaps, I do believe we might have outdone ourselves here. Shall we go to the pub instead?" Laughter rippled all around me and we piled out of the truck and grouped together on the sidewalk right in front of the main gate._

 _I took a few seconds to fish a cigarette out of my vest pocket and lit it with a wooden match since my Zippo ran out of fluid long ago. Drawing the smoke into my lungs, I watched Dix pull out, of all things, a machete of his own and go about clearing the vines that had ensnared the gate. Sissy later identified them as saw briers and wild potato vines. They looked like something out of an old Tarzan movie._

 _While the guys had a pretty even load-out with load-bearing gear and light packs with food, water, and extra ammo, they were dressed in jeans and shirts while I looked like a reject from a 1950's British movie and was loaded down with the heavy ammunition for the Model 70 which weighed almost 15 pounds for only 100 rounds, plus my extra ammo, food, and water._

 _After a few minutes of hacking and pulling, the gates finally swung open and allowed us access to the main compound. We moved through the gate and into the eerily silent zoo. First impression was shock at the extent of the damage we found; almost everything mobile had been knocked over or otherwise destroyed. Most of the windows and doors were broken or knocked off their hinges, and there was animal feces everywhere. That told me that some of the larger predators had escaped and were running loose through the zoo._

 _The animals on our shopping list were few, but had the potential to really hurt us if they were spooked or really pissed off; Black Bear, Bearded Pig, Key Deer, Warthog, and as many Fox squirrels and kangaroos as we could drop._

 _After a shaky start into the zoo itself we all became a little more relaxed and began to walk slowly and quietly while signs of life began to manifest around the entire park. Rustling branches and grass parting were good signs of occupation and we all became a little more alert since none of us could know what waited. After almost twenty minutes of walking we came across the first pen of the Bearded Pig and saw several of the animals were dead and decaying quite nicely, so with the pig population eating their dead pen mates, we moved on since none of us could stomach the thought of actually eating them._

 _Next up were the Key Deer, which I found out were on the endangered species list, and all seemed healthy and well- muscled considering how reliant they had become on daily feedings and constant care. Several were downed with single shots from Angus's Mauser and Brian's M-14, while I stood back and watched the surrounding area. With a pen of approximately 15 deer, we only harvested 4 as to not unbalance the population and allow us an infinitely renewable source of venison and nice heavy skin to make clothing out of once the supply of material becomes used up._

 _We were congratulating each other on a good start when a damn tiger showed up and began to drag off one of the still twitching deer into the line of palms a few yards away. Shouting at the thing did nothing, but since the deer was still very much alive the tiger was having some trouble dragging the kicking animal off into the woods, this gave me the much needed time to holster my 1911 and unlimber the Model 70 from my back and brace it on the railing._

 _With the heavy rifle now balanced on the rail, I flipped off the safety and lifted the massive bolt, pulled it back, and shoved it forward to chamber the first of 3 cartridges and eased into position behind the scope, after a second of searching, I found the tiger and placed the crosshair on the ribcage just behind the right front shoulder. Knowing this was my only chance to take the shot cleanly, I took a deep breath and slowly let a portion of it out and squeezed the trigger._

 _The sound was deafening and the recoil was almost enough to knock me on my can from my kneeling position, but the result was exactly as expected. The tiger had dropped to the sand as if someone had cut its legs out from under it and had been knocked on its side with a couple of paws flying out from underneath it. Unfortunately the deer was still alive which prompted Dix to put a single shot into its head and cease its suffering. We drug the carcass up on the walkway and decided to discard the meat since we didn't know what diseases the tiger could be carrying; but we did skin out the deer and will be using the skin._

 _Since I was already out there with Brian and Dix, hauling up the other deer we took, I went over and checked on my tiger. The pool of blood was the dark crimson of arterial blood and it appeared to be dead where it lay and after several prods with a rifle, I assumed it to be dead and set about skinning it; there was no way in hell that I was going to pass up the opportunity to have a white tiger coat._

 _With the task of moving the freshly killed deer out of the way, we set about gutting them and thankfully it only took a few minutes on each deer. The viscera were left in the grass for the carrion animals and birds in the area, while we moved on toward the Florida section of the park. In this section we were interested in the Black Bear and Squirrels and while no bear showed itself, we were able to drop about 20 fox squirrels with a .22 rifle Dix had brought along. Unlike the ones near Sanctuary, these were worm free and were kept in the skin until we could get back for them later in the day._

 _We continued to follow the path through the park and finally came across the Warthogs and the Gazelle pens. After almost 20 minutes of aimed rifle fire, we had a impressive kill count of 10 gazelle and 4 warthogs, everything was going great until we all heard the barking laugh of hyenas._

 _Only a few manifested themselves at first and it didn't take a trained eye to tell that they were starving; ribs showed as their chests heaved in and out with anticipation. Several more appeared at the scent of blood and then more joined the pack to give a total of 13 very hungry and bloodthirsty animals. I shouldered my heavy rifle and caught the shotgun Dix tossed to me, flicked the safety off, and brought it to my shoulder and waited for the damn things to make a run at us. I was scared, here we all were on a simulated African grassland with absolutely no cover and outnumbered almost 3 to 1._

 _After what seemed like hours of playing stare down, the Alpha male came running at us with a loping gate that almost was playful until the remainder took off toward us at a sprint, all wanting the same thing, fresh meat and the joy of the kill._

 _I'm not sure who fired first, it was either Dix or Brian, but the lead hyena slowed to a trot and began to limp on its front left leg and was consequently attacked by its remaining pack mates who had now caught up. The sound was god awful, a cross between screaming and yelping as the former leader was torn apart and devoured. For some reason I could only think of the new cannibal zombies that are now mixed in with the standard shuffling ones._

 _Unfortunately, the hyenas that weren't distracted by the kill, were still interested in us so we opened up on them once they got within a hundred yards or so. Several of them dropped, but we were making hurried and panicked shots as the remaining 8 closed in. Dix's M4 was cracking out rounds, but the small cartridge only seemed to slow them down, while Brian and Jim were only connecting about every third shot. Angus was picking them off one by one, but the bolt action could only fire so fast. The slug gun I was using seemed to be the ideal weapon, but again I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing and ran out of slugs after a few seconds._

 _Dropping the empty pump gun to the dirt, I drew the .45 and began to look for the closest of the hell hounds. Dix dropped his magazine free and pulled another as the closest hyena clamped down on his leg and ripped through his pants, sinking its teeth into the flesh below. Dix cried out and brought the butt of his rifle down on the beasts head several times until it finally released his leg and I was able to put it down with my pistol. Angus pulled his club and began to swing at the animals, knocking them head over heels while the rest of us put them down one by one._

 _I though the fight was over when the last one fell onto the dirt, so I almost wet myself when one came up behind me and clamped down on my left calf, I let out a half yell half sound of rage and slammed the pistol into the side of the damn things head and broke the lower jaw. I lined up the sights and squeezed the trigger twice and dropped it for good._

 _Almost everyone was suffering from some injury or another, but Dix and I seemed to be the worst off. Since walking was a pain in the ass now, Angus, Jim, and Brian found a couple of flatbed carts and loaded us onto them and hauled our butts back to the F-350 where Sissy and my Sarah cleaned us up under my direction. We are damn lucky the hyenas were as weak as they were. A full grown and healthy hyena has a bite pressure of about 800 pounds per square in … in other words the damn things can crush bone in a single snap._

 _After the run in with the hyenas the rest of the park was a cake walk; the Zoo School yielded several cases of paper, pens, coloring books, crayons, some food stuffs like juice boxes and crackers, while the rest of the park gave us coffee from the Starbucks. Sadly the food places had been broke into by the animals and most of it was damaged or scrapped anyway when a call came over the radio for me to come up to the main gate if I could._

 _I took a final drag off my smoke that had been lit earlier and I pitched it to the sidewalk as I hobbled up to the gate and took a seat on the park bench. Watching everyone else run by with animals or food made me feel useless, but soon I could see why they needed me up there. Sissy, Saen, and Tina were walking towards me with two flatbed carts loaded down with boxes and each had huge grins on their faces. The boxes contained vet supplies from a hidden office they stumbled across. After shooting the lock off the door, they proceeded to take everything but the refrigerated vaccines and open vials._

 _We now have thousands of syringes and needles, at least 100 different vaccines including ones I could give to the cattle back home, and most importantly was the pain killers and penicillin. I could hardly keep myself from dancing around with glee until my leg protested and I had to sit back down. Hobbling back over to the F-350, I sat on the tailgate and dug through the boxes and withdrew two syringes and six replacement needle tips plus two vials._

 _Dix had come over by this time and sat next to me with a questioning look on his face, so while I drew 30cc's of the slightly yellow solution into a syringe, I made small talk and eventually asked him if he was allergic to penicillin to which he said no and I quickly jabbed the needle into his arm and injected the antibiotic. It really was my only chance to do so since it usually takes about 3 of us to hold him down for a shot of anything except liquor._

 _With that task done, he gave me a disgruntled look, gave me a barely grumbled "thanks" and got back into the truck while everyone else had a chuckle on his behalf. Angus, Jim, Brian, and I also got the injection just to make sure we wouldn't end up one day with blood poisoning or worse from the hyena attack._

 _The last syringe I used again for myself, it contained 5cc's of M.S. Sulphate, which everyone else knows as Morphine, it dulled the pain from the ragged bite in my leg, but left me level headed and my mind clear. I was going to offer a similar shot to Dix, but by the time I got up to the cab of the truck, he was asleep in the passenger seat. He was really pissed about going to sleep "on duty."_

 _Overall we got enough meat to feed Sanctuary for the next month or so and enough medical supplies to keep us in good health for much longer. Included in the small haul was a nifty little break barreled .22 pellet gun that could also fire tranquilizer darts for small animal. While we didn't find the darts, I did round up a few thousand rounds of .22 pellets and gave it to Sissy to thin the squirrel population that keep threatening the gardens._

 _My leg is propped up and is throbbing, but the wound is clear of any infection. Ski gave me his opinion and says since I can't really see it too well, it is healing nicely. Ski reamed me a good bit for giving penicillin injections out there at the park and not waiting until I got back here for a sterile area, which I now admit to having been a bad idea, but he was impressed that I was able to get a needle into Dix by myself and not have him hit me._

 _Well hopefully Sissy won't cut too much of this out of the Sanctuary Journal, but since I had nothing else to do except sit on my ass, it seemed like a good time to write the "Safari" down so she can get it transcribed into our own piece of history in the making. Looking down at my bandaged leg, I think next time I'm gonna wear something a little bit heavier; something that withstands teeth…_

* * *

I don't know why but I was plenty sore that night after getting in from the Lowry Park Zoo gathering run. Might have been because I was so tense the whole time we were there. I still remember the Busch Gardens run and my rather unique experience with the wildlife. Scott tried to massage the stiffness out of my neck muscles but it didn't help as much as it normally does.

I'm very thankful for the meat the men brought in as well as the medical supplies, but the rest of the park – especially the food outlets – were a disappointment. I don't know what I had expected, but I didn't find it. The kids seemed to enjoy what we brought back, they are all wearing their "new" t-shirts today like real tourists, but by and large the runs are only beginning to reinforce how very necessary it is going to be to be fully self-sufficient within the year.

We'll probably go back for more meat in a few weeks but Austin cautioned us against over hunting the game there or we would lose the source altogether. Might be back to Busch instead, and might be with some of Steve's crew … or at least that is what Scott gave me to understand today.

Anyway, after we all pulled back into Sanctuary we still had lots of work to do. Some took the medical supplies over to Waleski. Another group moved the food supplies to the food storehouse to be inventoried and put away. Dix and Austin got to listen to Waleski give them a lecture and had to suffer through a thorough exam and redressing of their wounds.

Dix was still smarting from having gone to sleep. He would have done the manly "gotta prove myself now" thing if Ski hadn't told him in no uncertain terms that if he didn't get off the leg he'd shoot him in the butt with a tranquilizer. You do not want to see a man that size limp off in a pout; it is an ugly sight. Dix retreated to the radio shack and stayed there the rest of the day.

Mr. Morris still isn't his normal, good humored self but he wanted to help. And Angus, himself looking like he was dragging more than a little bit, asked if he wanted to help him skin the squirrels so they could be fried up for dinner that night.

It may sound bizarre but I enjoy watching Mr. Morris and Angus while they are prepping the animals that have been caught. It's a real pleasure to watch it being done properly.

First the men would take the squirrel carcass in the palm of their hand, belly up with the head facing the skinner. Then they would use a small knife with a two-inch blade and insert the blade under the skin at the neck and run it down the belly not cutting anything but the skin. At the unmentionables they continue the cut around all but cut the meat so the yuckies are loose but still attached to innards. Next they pull the skin working their fingers under and around the neck all the way. From there they cut the skin away from the head.

The next part is like one of those magic tricks where magicians pull the tablecloth off without knocking any dishes to the ground. They grip the head in one hand and skin in other and pull off in one quick pull. Lastly, with two fingers, they push in under ribs and scoop out innards. When the skin is off you can cut off the paws and head.

For dinner we used the squirrels to make squirrel pie. Think chicken pie or beef or kidney pie. It's kind of like a stew under a blank of flaky crust. We made a bunch of it and it was gone in no time flat. With seven more mouths to feed we are going to have to adjust some of our recipes.

We had a whole table of pregnant women at dinner tonight. Scott started to say something about nesting and clucking hens but strangely he lost the breath to finish what he was saying. I don't know how it happened, but somehow Rose and my elbows slid off the table and caught him at the same time. Surely some cosmic coincidence.

Terra was up and around enough to eat dinner that night but you could tell her heart wasn't really in it. She's definitely feeling the effects of all the stress she has been under. Nick tries not to hover, but you can see he is worried. The story of Charlene's sister in law hasn't helped either. Subconsciously we all knew the possibilities that existed, but realistically facing those possibilities is another thing all together.

I don't think Charlene appreciated my absence but she accepted it. James was looking at me in a bit of a panic when we got in and told me later that she followed him around the entire time with her niece and nephew in tow. When he was on duty, when he was doing his regular chores, when he was trying to hang out with the guys, even when he went to the outhouse. I tried hard not to laugh and instead explained that she was used to following her brother around and she had picked him as a temporary substitute. I told him that rather than be upset he should feel complimented as it probably took a lot of trust in him for her to do that. That gave my hard headed son something to think on and later in the day I watched him specifically include Kelly and little Al in a game he had devised to teach the younger children how to use a slingshot.

Our family headed off to bed early not even staying around for the get together with the new folks. James, Scott, and David all had guard duty tonight, in that order. James was on the 8 to 11 pm shift, Scott was on the 11 pm to 2 am shift, and David was on the 2 to 5 am shift. I know most places probably run their shifts at the 3's (3, 6, 9, and 12) but that's just not how we do it. This way any raiders expecting us to run the guard shifts the same as everyone else will get a surprise.

I had thought of a way to get Kelly and Al to try sleeping in the rooms and wanted to give it a try. I was going to let the kids have a slumber party … within reason of course. I brought out our portable DVD player that I keep charged and put a movie on that the kids picked. Of all things they picked "Ol' Yeller." I popped them some popcorn and then I presented Kelly and Al with their own, personal "shaker" flashlight. All the kids showed them how they had their names on theirs and I ceremoniously did the same for Kelly and Al. You would have thought that Scott and I had given them the greatest thing since sliced bread.

After the movie was over the kids were all ready to go to bed; the girls with the girls and the boys with the boys. I even let them build "tents" in their rooms and they could stay awake and talk but it was lights out time. Within 30 minutes they were all asleep. Charlene couldn't believe it. Just to be on the safe side she opted to put her pallet down in the hallway so the kids could find her if they woke in the night, and so they wouldn't wake anyone else.

I dozed a little, barely waking up when James and Scott switched watches. Unfortunately when Scott came in at about 3:15 am and crawled in bed I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. Rather than toss and turn I got up and went onto the lanai, heated up some water on my little candle stove and had a mug of peppermint tea.

After I settled onto a patio chair with my mug I decided to top the comfy "me time" off by checking to see if Steve had anything going on the radio. Hoo-boy, he had a toot on.

And now I understand why Steve sticks mostly to the late night broadcasts. It's probably the only time Shorty can't ride heard on his tongue and he gets to be a completely free-form thinker and conversationalist that don't have to follow the rules.

* * *

 _And late night listener, that was one of my blasts from the past, "Soft Cell" with "Tainted Love". Yeah, I know that many of you out there are looking at each other and thinking; "How old is this fuck?" Well, not as old as you think, and older than I care to admit._

 _You are of course, listening to Steve's Midnight Music and Talk Show. The time according to the only working watch on the damn radio is four nineteen. If you listen carefully, you'll hear the sounds of the second hand as it makes its way around the face of the timepiece meant for railroad men in an age when iron horses were king and the men who ran them were gods._

 _Yes, listener, I am a bit intoxicated tonight. There was an awesome fucking good run for items a few days ago, and they yielded some very nice things. That sound you heard was my bourbon glass hitting the mic. Thanks go out to the folks at Sanctuary for their suggestion that we join them; The Kid says he wants to have Mass, and speaking as the proud father of someone who knows his way around a Mass, come one come all. I don't know how the Pope would feel about a layman giving communion, but to hell with the old bastard anyway, there's a reason why we Catholics drink._

 _Where was I?_

 _Music. Here's a tune that since I'm in an old fucker mood, is one I've liked ever since I saw a stripper dance to it._

 _"Depeche Mod" and "Personal Jesus"._

 _And that was "Queen, Find Me Somebody to Love"_

 _I warned you I was in that kind of mood._

 _Let me enlighten all of you listeners out there. I was digging through the stacks here at the library and I happened upon this old article about viruses in "The Sciences" from 1998. Yes, folks, that's the last century. I know some of you little shits weren't even a stain on momma panties yet, but it holds relevance even today. So sit back, grab a beverage, and listen to a few of the things that ol' George Armelagos has to say._

 _First off a little history. Not because I think you are stupid, far from it, folks, if you're hearing my voice, you are among the smartest people alive. Influenza, the last big outbreak was in 1918, killed 21 millions people in a few months. Smallpox, a disease that's been around since fucking forever, killed nearly 300 million people in the twenty century alone. I toss those piddling numbers out there so we have a baseline so to speak. According to Ol' George, says that "Deaths from infectious disease in the United States rose 58 percent between 1980 and 1992. Twenty-nine new diseases have been reported in the past twenty-five years…" that's a new disease a year, listener, "…Ebloa virus, for instance, can in just a few days reduce a healthy person to a bag of teeming flesh spilling blood and organ parts from every orifice."_

 _Scared yet? Oh yeah, we have zombies now. Let me read on. "Creutfeld-Jakob disease…" a mouthful when your sober, let alone drunk…"…eats at its victims brains until they resemble wet sponges." Don't we wish that on more than a few undead fucks right now? Moving on, it says that we are one species and even though we are "10 to the 17th times larger than the average bacterium…" we are in essence fucked. The bacterium that we fight against outnumbers us and evolves faster than we can kill it. It says that we "…must compete with 5000 kinds of viruses and more than 300,000 species of bacteria. Moreover, in the twenty years it takes humans to produce a new generation, bacteria can reproduce a half-million times."_

 _Now you might be saying, "Steve, you shit-faced bastard, we tune in for news and music and shit, not to hear you lecture us." But you must know that I have spent my time behind the pulpit as it were, molding young minds and teaching those little frail thinkers the way on more than one occasion, so I am predisposed to lecturing. So fuck off, shut up and listen. I say this to tell you this other thing._

 _But first a story. The other day we went on a trading expedition for some things that we just can't get around here and met up with a group, I'll call them the Filthies. Now we've got protocol for all kinds of things around here and while I might give out names of groups and people, I never tell you where they are for security reasons. But the Filthies, you need to stay away from them. They reside in the Old Carrolwood area and I say this only because they are the most disgusting fucking excuse for humans I've seen since NRS reared its ugly head. These bitches were living in squalor, they all had lice, fleas and ringworm and those were only the things we could identify at a glance. No telling what kind of crabs were dropping from their underwear or what puss oozed from the regions covered by the rags they called clothing. The Filthies all had matted hair, rotten teeth and if one wished to delve further, you might have found open bed sores and scabies. It was absolutely revolting to have to be even a few feet up wind of them. I wouldn't fuck one of them with a raiders dick._

 _I digress. It's the bourbon._

 _People, no matter what, there's a reason to stay clean. We're entering the summer months here in Florida, and it's only going to get worse. The heat, the bugs, the weather, it really won't work in our favor if we don't do those things to keep cleanliness a priority. I know water can be at a premium during some of those times, but for Christ's Sake, leave enough for a whores bath at the very least. We've made it this far humanity; let's not drop the ball now._

 _Ol' George reminds us in his article, "The Viral Superhighway", "We are living in the twilight of the antibiotic era: within our lifetime, scraped knees and cut fingers may return to the realm of fatal conditions."_

 _There ain't many of us left folks, as mom always said, wash your hands._

 _Oh, Mass starts at noon. You ain't got nothin' else to do, so tune in, we'll be broadcasting live._

 _So on to more music and if you have a request, it's 5330.5 on the ham and channel 30 on the CB. Operators are standing by and we'll take the calls in the order we receive them. Here's "Men at Work" with "Overkill" to continue our romp through the some-say, best-be forgotten 1980's._

* * *

Hearing about "the Filthies" made me very concerned. We could run straight into that group if we continued much further down our course along Dale Mabry Hwy. Old Carrolwood was also the area where Matlock's ex-wife had lived and died. I wonder if he knew any of the "Filthies" or if they had moved in at some point.

Over breakfast I spoke to Dix and Matlock about Steve's broadcast. Both were understandably interested in pursuing this further so they called Steve's group who we now know by the acronym OSAG. Steve was asleep but Shorty produced a guy who gave his name as Dave who had also eyewitnessed the "Filthies." His words were that Steve was actually being kind and that in his opinion they were all crazier than dung beetles and twice as dirty … or that's how close a translation I'm willing to write down after I removed all the cussing that Dix had put in there.

Even though it was a Sunday and supposedly a Rest Day I felt I had so much to do that I just couldn't afford it. I was already a couple of days behind on planting the corn even though the kids had tried to do some yesterday. And at the time it looked like it might ran so I hurried to put 8 more rows in.

Scott woke up with the fidgets too and spent his morning setting stakes so that the gatehouses' foundations could be laid this coming week and chalking in the placement for the mounts of the three .50 caliber machine guns. They'll only be used as a last resort because barring what ammo was found with the raiders, we haven't seen any more of it. There were also a couple of what McElroy told me were M240 machine guns and apparently there were several cases of ammo for those things in one of the big up trucks. Makes me wonder if those raiders had been more organized just how much damage they could have done.

Dix wasn't in the greatest of moods due to the pain in his leg but he was hobbling about setting up a run out to Dale Mabry that took off about 9 or so. Matlock decided to take this one and they were going to go down as far as the Hudson Lane intersection to see if they spotted any signs of these "Filthies." Waleski said that if they did see these people not to have anything to do with them. With pregnant women and children in Sanctuary, we couldn't afford some communicable disease coming back from a handshake or careless contact. I tossed Matt a big bottle of hand sanitizer and he installed it in the front of the bus by the driver's seat.

Since the run was happening on a Rest Day, participation wasn't mandatory. So long as you didn't have guard duty that day you could go. Young Eric begged to be allowed to go so he played cabin boy to Matlock's captain. Lee volunteered to go as well. After that there was quite a shuffle and in the end Matlock had to turn some volunteers aside. All the guys from yesterday's hunt were still sore and thus remained to do work around Sanctuary. Kevin decided he wanted to get out for a change and Clay Jr. and followed him onto the bus. Cease was staying behind to help Dix with any running he needed to do so McElroy – our titular third in command – opted to go with Matlock for a change. The last two slots were filled by Ronan and Curtis who, while still nursing some bumps and bruises from their encounters with the raiders, were eager to be included in an official Sanctuary outing so that they could make their own place in the hierarchy of things.

Charlene affixed herself to my side and was watching me so hard I was having a hard time ignoring it. Sarah, my sweet but cluelessly blunt child, she came right out and asked her why she was watching me all the time. Charlene, herself an outspokenly blunt person, said because she wanted to know what I did that made everybody treat me like I knew stuff. Sarah, bless her replied, "Well, because she does."

I called out, "Girls? Would you like to help me get the next phase of the garden in? I'll even give you your own patch to grow and tend for your own."

Both girls were all over that. And when some of the other children heard about it they wanted their patch of garden as well. The only one I seemed to be missing were Bekah and Ella. When I asked where they were I was told they were working on a school project. Hmm. On a rest day? I was especially curious when I found out this "school project" involved Angus. At the time I just hoped that Anne wouldn't kill Angus when she found out. I don't know what it is with those two but they take great delight and egging each other on to more and more outrageous heights. I found out later that it was actually a legitimate lesson even if Angus did make it more fun than your average school project had any business being. The girls even wrote up a scientific report which I'm including below.

With all the helping hands, including some adults who decided to join along, I managed to not only plant 8 more rows of corn but get in quite a bit of all of the other stuff that I wanted to plant as well: bush beans, pole beans, lima beans, cucumbers, eggplant, okra, blackeyed peas, more peppers both sweet and hot, , pumpkins, summer squash, winter squash, tomatoes, turnips, beets, carrots, collard greens, kohlrabi, lettuce, mustard greens, peanuts, radishes, and even some Swiss chard. Tomorrow I'm going to put the sweet potatoes in the raised beds that I had built and then lined with chicken wire before filling with a mix of good compost and sand. I'll also plant the watermelons and cantaloupes where they can really spread out. Another thing to do tomorrow will be to run the strings for the pole beans and cucumbers to climb on.

My helpers would come and go as it suited them. That was OK with me, they were just volunteers. I asked Charlene to make sure that all of the little kids got from the field to the mess hall and ate lunch. She was eager to show she was responsible.

It wasn't long before she came back and brought me a pocket sandwich for my own lunch. I realized then how long ago breakfast seemed and how hungry I was. I also noticed the dark circles under Charlene's eyes that weren't just from the abuse she suffered. When I tried to get her to go rest she said, "But you don't."

Oh boy. How easy it is to forget that kids watch everything you do as well as the things you don't do. I decided right then to set a better example of staying healthy and told her thank you. I think she believes that I am as crazy in my own way as her brother had been. In all honesty she may very well be correct. But it gets me through the day.

I walked her back and told her to find a hammock and if she wasn't comfortable with Kelly and Al running loose with the other kids, maybe she could persuade them to hop up in the hammock with her and take a nap. I'm fairly certain that's exactly what she did and all three of them were looking better rested at dinner.

As I passed a small garden behind one of the houses I saw Chris with a radio. That's when I remembered that Steve had mentioned The Kid … I'm pretty sure he meant his son … was going to put on a layman's Mass for those that cared to listen. I should have figured that Chris would want to at least hear what was being said. He's private that way but now thinking back I think a couple of other people may have been checking that broadcast out. I wonder if Steve will broadcast a nondenominational service at any point. Scott and I and the kids do our own thing but it might be nice to listen to something a little more organized for a change. Which got me to wondering about Charlene, Kelly, and Al; Scott and I wouldn't force anything on them but we would expect a certain level of behavior and obedience. I didn't think it would be a problem but better to be aware of the potential and it not happen than to never think about it and get gobsmacked when something hits you out of left field.

After that thought is when I went in search of Scott and asked him to go on a "date" with me. Gotta love a man that is so eager and ready to please. Wink. Wink. We just had fun spending some quality time together enjoy each other's company, with only the occasional interruption by a child looking for attention. And we did that all afternoon right up until Matlock and his crew returned.

They brought back lots of odds and ends but no big surprises. Every business, including the big post office building, over by Lowes was looted of just about anything useful. However, all the stepping stones and blocks were still where they were stacked out in Lowes garden center since last time we had been there. We had a use for them now and a means to collect and haul them back which we didn't have before. Tomorrow Matlock will lead another run over there and Lee wants to check over the leftovers of the small engines and other bits and pieces that are in the back maintenance area to see what we could possibly use.

Target was trashed but still held some odds and ends that might be useful though most of the linens and clothing had been exposed to the elements and were molded and mildewed beyond repair. Matt brought back some sports equipment for the kids to use after chores are completed and Curtis brought back some small exercise equipment for anyone that didn't feel like lifting the free weights that were set up in one of the empty houses.

Due to the economic downturn that the world had been suffering when NRS showed up, most of the stores had started limiting their stock to what would fit on their shelves so the back rooms of most places were pretty bare however there was the occasional case of TP or paper towels that were found. I tell you what was a big hit however, was the cases of feminine hygiene products that was found believe it or not in the back room of Staples Office Supplies. I guess it had been ordered by a company to stock their employee bathrooms.

A few edibles had been found here and there, but not in any great quantity. As badly damaged and looted as many of the businesses were it was still relatively easy to tell that some of the buildings had been pawed through in the not that distant past.

Matlock and the gathering crew did get a glimpse of the "Filthies" and a more pathetic and nauseating group Matt says he never hopes to meet. They ran off at the first sight of the hummer and the bus even though they had obviously gotten to Orange Grove elementary school first. The body odor they left behind wasn't even hidden by the stench of recent zombie activity.

The "filthies" had been trying, without apparent success, to break into the walk in coolers in the back of the school cafeteria. A couple of snips with the heavy duty bolt cutters that our crews always take with them and it was easy enough for people who still had the use of their opposable thumbs to get in. There were a couple of #10 cans of that school house pudding that everyone loves to hate but everything else had spoiled months ago.

About the only place that hadn't been ransacked by the "filthies" was the library. How do we figure that it was the filthies who did this? Because of what we've come to think of as their signature – dirty handprints on every surface.

Matlock had thought about bringing back some books for the kids but he said he felt like he had fleas crawling all over him the whole time he was at the school. He just couldn't get those people's appearance out of his mind nor get rid of the feeling they were being watched and as soon as they left the "filthies" would go right back to picking over and through everything.

The whole strip center over by Publix was also riddled with evidence of the "filthies." For some reason the "filties" don't appear to have crossed to the west side of the highway. No idea why since there isn't any traffic to stop them. Maybe they're too scared of getting too far from their home base which does appear to be the houses surrounding Carrolwood Park.

But Matt was so disgusted that he decided to go all the way down to Busch Blvd and see what he could see. That yielded better results. Val's Basket Shop has been put on tomorrow's run list. Lots of potentially useful items in there like floral tape and wire, baskets, concrete planters, and a few pieces of lightweight furniture perfect for the guard shacks. Matt also took a drive a little west on Linebaugh Avenue and was delighted to see that many of the businesses there still looked relatively intact. None of them were food vendors but most offices had some edibles tucked into desks and break rooms.

Tomorrow is Wash Day so I won't be going on the run. I need to get some more bed linens fixed up for our new house members. They also need some new clothes from the skin out, especially Charlene who looks like she's been forced to wear a bra that is two sizes too small for too long. Poor girl really does need a woman's touch to help her along. I also want Ski to look at Al's ears. The kid doesn't talk much and when he does it's like he has a mouth full of marbles. If he has a hearing deficit I'm going to see if Rhonda might know of anything that might help. Her specialty in school was working with kids that needed ASL assistance.

After dinner, another gastronomic feast for both eyes and stomach executed by Saen, we all pretty much lazed about until the sun went down. It was a red sunset so hopefully tomorrow's weather will be nice. We never got the promised rain so I'll be running irrigation lines into the newly planted beds on top of everything else.

We came home quickly after that … the mosquitoes are starting to be a problem again and I need to rig up some smudge pots and transplant some more citronella bushes … and the kids toddled off to bed. Charlene is still sleeping on the floor in the hallway but I think it is more for her own comfort than for Kelly's and Al's who have done amazingly well. I think that is bothering Charlene a little bit and I'll try and get her to talk it out tomorrow if she's in the mood.

Scott hit the sack at the same time the kids did, he was tuckered. As for me, I was still wound. I drank too much real tea at dinner and it's taken some time for it to wear off. Think I have just enough oomph left to transcribe Bekah and Ella's "school project paper" and then I'm off to bed myself.

* * *

 _Uncle Angus Smites Evil  
By Bekah, aged 9 and Ella, aged 8_

 _Uncle Angus is a mighty, mighty northmen! He hunts really good and always catches what he goes after whether it is rabbits or raiders. Today we observed Uncle Angus go on another very important mission. We got to ride with him in the golf cart which he drives better than Rose does. Rose hits all the bumps but Uncle Angus never hit a tree, not once. Uncle Angus called the mission preemptive strike. Ella and I didn't know what that meant but here is how Uncle Angus explained it to us._

 _"The intended prey had been testing Sanctuary's borders for many months now, and the evidence of their invasion can be found all around the perimeter of the walls defenses. Many of the warriors of Sanctuary hold no fear of this evil; as they have hardened there war skills with glorious battles over the many months of defending their homes and loved ones from the many horrors that now roam the land."_

 _"Yes many hold no fear, but alas there are those within the walls that tremble at the invading evil, with horror and dread. But fear not, as we mighty warriors quest forth on the glorious mission to rid our lands of the fearsome pestilence that has encroached upon us!"_

 _Be careful when you ask Uncle Angus to explain things. Sometimes he can exaggerate. A lot. Like that time he was trying to explain why he was on the Wall talking about dragons. Momma and Mrs. Anne, Ella's momma, had their eyebrows up in their hairline when they were listening to it. Ella and I couldn't hold in our laughs in any more. Uncle Angus gave us a look he calls "fearsome" but we know he doesn't really mean anything by it. It always makes all of us girls laugh even harder._

 _Uncle Angus sighed and said, "What are you girls laughing at? This is no tea-party where heading for you know. We're bound to see vicious battle before too long."_

 _We tried to explain to Uncle Angus that they were just squirrels but Uncle Angus got a really silly look on his face and said, "Just squirrels ? Just squirrels?! You were there, you heard your mother. She said they were demons that were spawned from the darkest pits of - EVIL !"_

 _That made us laugh even more. My mama doesn't like squirrels. She says they have been put here to test her faith. But that's when daddy says it's a test she's never passed. Then he runs out of the room pretending he's afraid of mama._

 _When we told this to Uncle Angus he said, "Ha, I'll bet you a hand full of tootsie rolls he's not pretending. But still, back to my point, your mama said that these evil demons taunt and mock her and daily and try to steal her prized possessions. They also make tremendous messes just to infuriate her. This insult just can no longer be tolerated. So without fear for my own life I insisted on leading this mission of the greatest importance! "_

 _That made us laugh some more because we know that the only reason Uncle Angus said he would take care of the problem was because James told him mama was thinking about taking his hooch and soaking a batch of nuts in it so the squirrels would get drunk and fall out of the trees and kill themselves. Uncle Angus doesn't like it when people talk about using his moonshine for something other than what he calls medicinal purposes._

 _We went nearly the whole perimeter of Sanctuary and with the new Wall that is a long way. Every squirrel we saw ended up in bags on the little trailer behind the cart. After the first couple of squirrels, some of the teenagers decided to come along as well, even James. They are all good shots with the .22's and only a couple of them needed to take more than one shot._

 _There had been only one casualty during the battle. When Uncle Angus was moving the bags around on the trailer one of the not so dead squirrels decided to bite him on the meaty side of his hand. He started hollering really loud. He ran the rest of the squirrels off. It took James and Samuel to get the squirrel to let go of Uncle Angus' hand; it had died mid bite._

 _Uncle Angus looked kind of funning jumping up and down with a squirrel stuck to his hand and James and Samuel trying to get him to hold still long enough for them to finish pulling it off. You could tell that James and Samuel were trying really hard not to laugh but then Samuel says, "Zombie squirrel" and all the teenagers started being stupid._

 _Uncle Angus gave one of his growls and they all ran off still laughing. That left Ella and I to give Uncle Angus first aid. He did want us to at first but we threatened to tell our moms if he didn't. He handed us a little first aid kit out of one of his kilt pockets and sat down and let us take care of him. Momma and Mrs. Anne have that kind of effect on people._

 _Uncle Angus said thank you real nice when we finished but I think he must have gone over and had Mr. Waleski look at the squirrel bite too. At lunch he didn't have all of the pretty bows on the bandages that we had tied. He had also lost the pink ribbon someplace too._

 _Uncle Angus said that we smited nearly 30 squirrels and that was a glorious battle by anyone's standards. Momma gave in and told him his hooch was safe for another day._

 _The End_


	149. Day 189

**Day 189 (Monday)**

Had things and people going every which a way today. We had another run out to the Dale Mabry Hwy area. Scott and a crew finally got started on the front and rear gatehouses. Angus and Mr. Morris are finally feeling more the thing though Angus' hand that the squirrel bit and the area around Mr. Morris' amputation were both irritated. Despite that they took off to add some additional security to Angus' second base and got a real shock. We had … well I guess you'd call it a "family" of peddlers visit. And I spent most of the day working on the garden and future food self-sufficiency plans; in particular I planted 4 more rows of corn and planted about 10 more 100 foot rows of potatoes. Our new folks got settled in to their respective living quarters. And various and other sundry things going on, so many that half the time I don't hear about everything any more.

Dix's and Austin's legs are still pretty messed up. No significant infection, thank goodness, but hyena's mouths are very dirty because they are carrion eaters. They aren't going anywhere for at least a week or more. Matlock was torn between leading another run, this one further along Dale Mabry to Busch Blvd and Gunn Hwy, but opted to remain and work on Sanctuary's defenses. Instead McElroy led this run with some interesting results as well as some information. They left at first light so as to be back well before dark. There were starting to be signs of a weather change and in Florida that can mean thunderstorms. Thunderstorms can get interesting in lightening alley which is what the corridor between Tampa and Titusville is known. I forget how many people each year used to be struck by lightning but I remember reading that lightning was the number one weather killer in Florida, ahead of all other weather related deaths in the state. In other words, don't act stupid in Florida weather or you could wind up dead … or undead … as the case may be.

At the same time that one crew went out on the Dale Mabry gathering run, another crew took off for a short run to Lowes and Home Depot to bring back all of the cinderblocks, stepping stones, etc. that could be brought back. We'd already gotten all the topsoil and fencing materials months ago as well as pretty much all the other usable stuff that hadn't been trashed when the buildings were looted and fire bombed or whatever the heck happened to them. It was going to take two or three trips but the more they could bring back the less Scott and I would have to fight over what to use them for. I want to build more raised garden beds and he needs some of the materials for the building projects that he and Matlock have on the books. I suppose if worse comes to worse I could ask the men to fell some of the tall palm trees in the area and use them as berms for the raised beds.

Speaking of gardening, I did a whole lot of that today. Like I mentioned I got in another four hundred feet of corn and another 1000 feet of potatoes. I don't know what I would have done had we had to eat all the seed potatoes from the last plantings I did and the ones that I was able to save from the Feed Depot so long ago. We've also found a few potatoes in the abandoned houses to piece everything out. I've got to find a better way to save my seed potatoes. I probably lost every bit of 50 pounds of them to rats and they attract all sorts of other bugs, thugs and nasties.

The potatoes are going to be really important to our diet once they start coming in. A hundred feet of potatoes can produce between 150 and 300 pounds of tubers, depending on weather conditions and variety. The average American had been eating about 125 pounds of potatoes each year. In Ireland during the 1800s, lack of potatoes, had driven thousands out of their homeland to be immigrants in the US or they would have died of starvation.

Betty and I have been talking over some things with Waleski. We noticed that since we've started to rely more on wild game than on domesticated meat that folks are losing weight again. Not too bad but on a couple of the kids it's really noticeable. I think we've been a little remiss in not realizing that not only are we having to change the items that we cook, the way we cook, but we also need to change the way we eat. What I mean is that in the last two decades or so we'd become conditioned to the idea that fat is bad, carbs are bad, sugar is bad, etc. But in reality our bodies need that stuff to function the way it should.

The problem was that most people's working life became more sedentary than our ancestors had been. We weren't necessarily working in the fields growing our own food, etc. Instead we were sitting at desks earning our food. We also ate a lot more domesticated meats that were higher in fat than the hunted game that our ancestors put on the table regularly.

We've been straining a lot of the cream out of the milk the kids drank, essentially giving them skim milk as opposed to whole. We were stingy with the butter in accordance with what we still thought of as "healthy" cooking. We are rationing bread until our corn crop comes in and we can meal it for corn flour. We are trying to live like our ancestors did without recognizing that there was a reason why they ate all of that fatty stuff.

It's called Protein Poisoning. Wild game is much leaner than domesticated livestock. A diet heavy on wild game means that we need to add more fat and carbs back into our diet. It starts tomorrow. We'll take the night milk that has been allowed to have the cream rise, strain off the cream and set it aside, then add that "skimmed" milk into the morning milk that we will leave whole. Hopefully this will help with the kids. For adults we will be adding more fats into our cooking; frying things in bacon grease instead of canola oil, a bread spread made of olive oil as long as we have it, and other things like that.

Mr. Morris and Angus were back and forth, in and out, of Sanctuary today. They've got another still and smokehouse all set up down at Angus' fire station. On one of the trips the other women and I let James, Eric, and Samuel shepherd the kids over to Angus' place to help him paint it. They came back a couple of hours later and I was very, very, very glad that I had my kids wear really old clothes. Angus and Mr. Morris were as messy as the kids. Scott had gone up there to collect them for lunch and came back laughing. He said it looked like monkeys had tried their hand at painting.

Monkeys and other exotic wildlife reminds me of why Angus wouldn't let the kids go back up to the fire station after lunch. Seems he spotted some really big paw prints and needed the kids to stay out of the area until he could confirm what they were from. Mr. Morris said they looked like bear tracks to him but he wasn't for sure as they were bigger than any he had seen before. Angus confirmed later, during an open council meeting, that they were bear tracks … grizzly bear tracks.

Grizzlies are not native to Florida; heck, they aren't native to the south at all; looks like we have a zoo or circus escapee running loose. We radioed OSAG and Steve said he'd get a warning on the air for any who would take it seriously. I hope Angus is wrong, but about these sorts of things I haven't seen him wrong yet. He mentioned that he was going to try and track the bear to see if it is still in the area. Not sure how I feel about that. Part of me says leave it alone, part of … well, if it's a threat then just kill it. I know that is blood thirsty but it's a non-native species and I have no idea how that will effect our ability to hunt. We already have to deal with hyenas, large predator felines, kamodo dragons … now grizzly bears?!

We had a large boa take one of our kids today … the goat variety, not human. Samuel heard it bleating in terror but by the time he got to it all he could do was put it out of its misery. The snake had already crushed it, snapping the kid's spine, and was trying to unhinge its jaws to begin swallowing its prey. Boas and gators are already competing predators down in the 'Glades, I hope that doesn't happen around here though Fish & Wildlife officials had estimated that released and escaped boas were becoming an endemic problem throughout the southern USA. With nothing to keep them in check they'll multiply out of control and then we really will have a problem.

About an hour after both run teams were back inside, and an hour before dinner was to be set out, we had our first traders visit. They were more like peddlers living out of a couple of old RVs that they had converted to run on some kind of homemade bio-fuel. There was a complicated looking digester on top of both vehicles that stank to high heavens so more than likely it was some type of methane based fuel. That stuff is over my head but I'm learning. Nice set up but nothing else they had really interested us.

Matlock and Dix traded some canned goods for maps and information just to open up future trades. One of these days we may very well need something from farther off and the more options we have to acquire it the more likely we are to acquire it.

We have a couple of smokers in our group and they traded the peddlers for some tobacco and papers. I won't hold it against them, my own great grandmother dipped snuff since before my mother was born … I just don't care to have smoke blown in my face when I'm trying to talk to someone. If I'm not having to breathe it what do I care? I'll kill Scott and any of my kids if they try and take it up but that's a different issue all together. Both sides of our family has a history of heart problems and my grandfather had lung cancer. I'll also skin anyone I catch tempting or offering my kids a smoke. Scott will smoke a stogie every once in a great while but not around me and not around the kids.

They asked if they could set up their camp with their back to Sanctuary's Wall. Dix and Matlock agreed but have set an extra guard dedicated to keeping an eye on them alone. They said they would be off at first light as they have a trade planned over near the USF area. Bet its Steve, I saw a case of sardines in the back under wraps with things they said weren't for trade.

My last piece of journaling for tonight is going to stick in here the piece that Brian slipped me today. I think he was a little embarrassed, but didn't want Austin to show him up. It's nice to find out where all of us have come from.

* * *

 _I'm not much of a writer, I tend to keep things short and unimaginative in most areas. Guess I'll start from the beginning. I'm a twenty two year old college student from Chicago, came down here for a week to visit the family I have down here, as well as scout out new colleges to attend, as the one I was in wasn't really doing it for me._

 _Before the end of the world, I was a sales associate at Advance Auto Parts, for...almost a year. I do a lot of electronics stuff, and can fix a lot of things without help or with minimal guidance. I'm also an avid gardener (I think Sissy was grateful to hear that) and I've tried to learn more from Austin about farming._

 _Ah crap, there I go again, this is why I hate journals. Anyway, when I was visiting with my family, the NRS plague hit New Port Richey where my grandmother lived, and hit it hard. I was with my uncle at the time, but we both tried getting in there to save her. That was almost a mistake, we both ended up trapped in my grandma's condo before we managed to get out with my grandma in tow. After that we hit up my aunt's place, but it was already abandoned with a note saying they were heading up to my mother's house in Chicago._

 _We were almost to the border when the border was shut down. And when we tried turning around to head back to my uncle's, we got ambushed by a group of local thugs. My grandma was shot and killed, while me and my uncle got away with bruises and scrapes. My grandma reanimated shortly after we finished, and bit my uncle, who was trying to get the little blue Ford Taurus my grandma got from my parents a few years ago. It had my uncle's 12 gauge trap shotgun, and about seventy shotshells, all hand loaded from his reloading equipment._

 _I...shot my own grandma. That was probably the single hardest thing I could ever do, beside shoot my uncle when it was clear that he was turning. He even begged me, which really upset me._

 _After that I headed south, towards...I never really knew. All I knew was that my uncle's place was somewhere north of Orlando, but I didn't drive down here, I flew, so all I know is that the car ride was a long one. I ended up stopping in various towns, more often then not chased out of said towns by more local thugs, and then I reached the end of the line._

 _I was holed up in Ybor City trying to avoid that crazy couple and their zombie "pet" when I almost shot Jim. Didn't really see him coming in, and was busy trying to get a clear view of the gunfight going on outside of the place I was holed up in. I heard him crunch on some broken glass, and I swear I don't know who jumped more, me or him when I spun that old 12 gauge my uncle loved right at him._

 _After hearing him explain why I should think he's one of the good guys, I went with him, and joined up with the sanctuary crowd. And, well, ya'll know the rest._


	150. Day 190

**Day 190 (Tuesday) – February 6th**

It's been raining like a sonofagun all day today. Tonight I found out that our clinic (Waleski finally put his foot down and told people to stop calling it a hospital as it made him feel all panicky) personnel have received almost a half dozen complaints about feeling kind of flu-ish. Three of the six are from my house alone, and now I'm starting to feel all sore and icky.

As promised the peddlers left at first light and we let Steve know they were heading his way. They weren't as dirty as the "filthies" but they weren't as clean as I would have liked. Whatever happened to leaving a place cleaner than you found it? We run a pretty tight ship and keep our perimeter neat and orderly. After the peddlers took off we hand to dispose of some trash and rake over some areas where they had tossed their chamber pots. I also noticed that the men didn't act with much modesty and had to keep the younger girls back to keep them from getting an eye full when the men urinated out in the open. Have we really, as a society, devolved to the point where a man doesn't even feel the need to take care of his business out of sight? I counted several young girls in that group and no allowances were made for them either. Makes me concerned for the future if that's the way things are going to be. I mean I know as human beings need to relieve themselves but come on … a little privacy goes a long way to keeping things civilized.

Breakfast was Huevos Rancheros. I had mine mild; my stomach was bothering me just a bit. About mid-way through breakfast it started to drizzle. Rain or shine though there are some chores that still have to be done. Animals need to be fed and watered. Wood needs to be cut and stacked. Cows and goats need to be milked. And the Wall still needs to be guarded. The good thing about the rain was that it was great for all the seeds that I had been planting the last few days and it made the zombies more bizarre but less dangerous. I'll put up with bizarre to get less dangerous, we've had a definite uptick in the number of zombies though they tend to come in clumps.

I made sure everyone in my family had their rain slickers on. I saw some people walking about bare-headed in the rain and all I could do was roll my eyes. I swear some of the boys seem to think they are going to live forever. Even Angus had enough sense to throw a rain poncho on. He was a bit disappointed that his bear tracks were washed away but I suppose if it is around he'll find some fresh ones.

I tried to do some hoeing out in the garden. What a mess that was. I didn't really have too much to do because I've been mulching really well and that's kept the worst of that type of work to a minimum. The very last of the citrus is beginning to fall from the trees so tomorrow I'm going to work on canning the little bit that's left. The quarts of orange, grapefruit, and tangerine juice as well as the pints of lemon and lime juice, are a real comfort to me when I go into the food storehouse. I hope to add grape juice and some of the berry juices to that later on.

We had to hook some fans up to solar panels – the ones we swiped off of the street lamps – and keep them running as much as we can. The humidity was beginning to talk its toll on our supplies. I vacuumed sealed as much of our dried stuff as I could but we'll run out of those bags sooner or later and we need to find another way of taking care of the problem. We also have several of those chemical dehumidifiers going, but again that solution won't last forever. We also need to develop a better system of refrigeration before the weather turns warm. I wish we could keep at least one refrigerator up and running at all times. Of course if wishes were pennies I'd be rich.

By mid-morning the rain was coming down in earnest. We had to start emptying our water catchment barrels again and we haven't had to do that in a long time. Everything went straight into the water cisterns we have built. We keep the lids on the cisterns, we have to, or we'd wind up with a horrible mosquito problem. Samuel and my Sarah, as part of one of their school projects, are building a bunch of bat houses and swallow bird houses. The sooner we have those little darlings move into our neighborhood the better. I can't tell you how infernally annoying it is to be kept awake when a mosquito, or three, get into the house. They always seem to enjoy dive bombing my ears right as I'm trying to drift off.

When my feet got so cold and wet that I couldn't feel them any more I finally gave up and headed back to the house to be met by the joyful news that someone had forgotten to cover up the wood pile and there wasn't any dry would to run the wood cookstove with. MREs had been passed around and as far as the meals went I think Johnnie summed it up pretty well when he told Bubby, "You git what you git and you don't throw a fit." Maybe the boy has learned a few things I've been trying to teach him.

I didn't get the chance to do our family's share of the laundry but it wasn't too bad. The worst things I just hung out in the rain. Of course I hadn't expected the rain to continue as long as it has so now I've got a lanai decorated with numerous unmentionables of all colors and sizes hanging from line strung from one in to the other several times.

Samuel showed up a little after lunchtime and asked if he could stay over at our place. I thought something was wrong at first but he said, "No ma'am. Its just that all the pregnant ladies are over at Jack and Mother's place and … I really don't want to hear all about that stuff. And … um … Ms. Cindy and Dad are … well …"

My eyebrows went up because this was the first I had heard of Dix and Cindy being on anything other than a nodding acquaintance. Samuel's face got really red, "They aren't doing that! I mean they're you know … um … sort of talking some … about stuff … sort of."

I laughed and finally cut him some slack and let it go. Poor kid. He's had his life turned upside down, even more than some of the rest of us have. He's pretty level headed, but he is still just 14. My Sarah was happy to see him. Now that Tina has Laura firmly under her thumb Samuel has been able to relax and he and Sarah are best friends again.

I left all the kids sitting around the kitchen table occupied with some lesson or project. I didn't have to be much more than a facilitator these days, the kids were so hungry to learn. Sure, the little ones still needed some help the first couple of times they are introduced to a new concept and the older ones needed help with some of the more advanced match assignments, but overall they were turning into well-developed independent learners. My kids, because they have always been homeschooled, accept it as the way things are supposed to be. The other kids are amazed at what I can create for school … I call them learning opportunities. We do a lot of thematic and literature units. We finished up The Swiss Family Robinson a long time ago and followed it up with Robinson Crusoe. After Crusoe we did A Christmas Carol for the holidays. The younger kids are now studying Sign of the Beaver and the older kids are studying Alas, Babylon. I've got a whole list of books I'd like the kids to read, not all of them survivalist fiction but most of them are classics of one type or another with morality and preparedness lessons in them.

The one big writing project that I've assigned all the kids is to start their own journals. I told them they didn't have to write in them every day but it would be nice if they wrote in them at least once a week. I explained that I used my journal as a way to vent my feelings, record history, and get my own thoughts and plans in order. I told them sometimes I go back and read something that happened a while back and maybe I will understand what was happening at the time better with a little distance or it might remind me about something I didn't want to forget. And sometimes I cringe at what I've written but at other times I read about happy stuff that makes me feel better. A couple of the kids rolled their eyes the first time I gave them the assignment but I've now also told them they could do sketches to fill their journal so long as they have a paragraph to explain what they were drawing and why. I also told them they were allowed to use their journal for technical drawings if they want to use it as a planning tool. That last one made the older boys happier. The teen boys, except for perhaps Brandon who doesn't really join in any of our lessons, aren't really a touchy-feely crowd. I told them to think of it along the lines of what Lewis and Clark did or maybe Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, or even General George Patton who also kept a personal journal.

Charlene is eating up this whole alternative way of learning. Brandon says that she took nearly an hour to pick her first book and now every time I turn around I catch her reading. She'll read while she stirs the mixing bowl. She'll read aloud to the little kids if she is watching them. She gets on the bike generator and reads while she is pumping the pedals to charge a battery. I'm really glad to see it if you want to know the truth. James told me that she carries a notepad in her pocket now the same way I do. I expected him to have something a little mean to say about it but he actually seemed rather impressed. Scott and James are both men with "self made" mentalities, David too for that matter. I think they approve of Charlene even if she is a little different from everyone else. I think the difference lies in what she has gone through and not her core capacity. Anyone that made the mistake of thinking that Charlene is not quite as smart as everyone else is in for a rude awakening. She can figure geometry problems quicker than I can. Methinks maybe she has been forced to hide her light under a bushel and now she is starting to let it see light of day. I'm interested in seeing where this is gonna go.

After I had finished the last sock and did all the little odds and ends I could inside I sat down and took a rest. That's when I noticed I wasn't feeling so hot. A little shivery, a little ache-y … uh oh. I got up and made a batch of my anti-flu remedy. You take two teaspoons of cayenne pepper and 1 ½ teaspoons of sea salt and grind them together until you get a paste. Then you add a cup of boiling water to the paste and let it steep until it is cool. Then you add a cup of cider vinegar. And adult can take about a teaspoon of this every half hour and bye-bye flu. Kids need to have this diluted a bit with more water and given a teaspoon every hour.

I also fixed up a kettle of ginger tea, and gave the kids all a cuppa with some honey in there for good measure. I'm glad I did now. None of the kids that were at my house have thus far shown any symptoms of getting sick; only Rose, David, and myself have, and while I'm not 100% yet I'm definitely no worse.

And for the scratchy throats I made ginger candy drops. Thank goodness that Scott, James, and David had installed that homemade cookstove into the kitchen for me. It doesn't get a lot of use but I've been glad to have it the few times I've needed it. For the ginger candy you take a pound of dark honey (the darker the better) and add ½ teaspoon of ginger. Simmer the two together over very low heat for 45 minutes, stirring often to keep the honey from scorching and sticking. When finished you pour it onto a buttered platter and let it cool. It's not a hard candy, you cut it into shapes after its cold using a wet knife, but my kids have always loved it better than any cough drop I've been able to find.

And since I was stuck inside and having to make constructive work for myself I made something for Mr. Morris that I hope will help him feel better. I steeped rosemary in a bottle Madeira wine that I had found. It's supposed to be a heart tonic and is also taken after an illness or a nervous upset. I'm hoping maybe this will be the pick me up he needs. He just hasn't come back from the amputation the same energetic man he was before. I know that Kevin is worried about him.

I also made a clove gargle but that won't be ready for a week. I took a pint of sherry and put in 2 tablespoons of whole cloves and 1 tablespoon of cinnamon bark, both of which I gave a little pounding to with a mortar and pestle just to bruise them up a bit and release their oils. I threw a pinch of caraway seeds in there too. I put this all in a bottle, sealed it, and put it in my closet where it stays dark. I'll shake it a couple of times of day for a week and then strain the spices out and rebottle it. All it takes is a teaspoon or so of this in a glass of water and you've got a great sore throat gargle.

When Scott came in and said that Dix was looking for Samuel the school party broke up. That was when we found out that dinner was cancelled as well. There are pros and cons to having an outdoor dining hall and kitchen and today was one of the days we were experiencing the cons. To be honest, I didn't mind. Group cooking can be fun and also relieves me of having to cook all the time for my brood, but the lack of privacy kind of wears on me sometimes.

Cease, who was supposed to eat at our table tonight, dropped by and said that it was all right and that he would grab a Clif bar or something. I told him he better have his feet under our home table come 6 o'clock or I'd come looking for him. He just grinned and said yes ma'am. I had several quarts of Spanish bean soup that needed to be used up so that's what I heated up for dinner. I also fixed some homemade crackers.

Rose and David only ate a small cup of soup each and then they apologized for being bad company and went to bed. I have a feeling that David is going to have a hard time on guard duty in the morning, especially if it is still raining. Cease stayed for a little while before he and James headed off to take their turn on the Wall. All the couples have decided to have their commitment ceremony on Valentine's Day which is just a little over a week away. The speed caught me off guard. I thought they had wanted to wait until March but I guess I can't really blame them. When Scott and I were ready to get married every day seemed to stretch away forever.

Let's see there is Cease and Melody, McElroy and Rhonda, Jack and Patricia, and now I'm hearing that Waleski and Rilla will be committing as well. And while I don't expect Dix and Cindy right away, I'm wondering if they won't be at it shortly. What is it about the end of the world that makes people want to pair off and make babies? Or at least give it the old college try? Wonder if we'll be hearing Austin and his Sarah making that kind of commitment any time soon? I like Sarah, but she's nearly as busy as I am with things and I haven't gotten to know her the way I would like to. She's gotta be a pistol to put up with some of Austin's shenanigans that's for sure.

And I think I've got it figured out who the little love nest belongs to. Seems Brandon and Josephine have been sneaking off to have a little privacy. Nothing has come of it … yet … but I overheard Patricia giving them "the talk" about how things aren't like they used to be. There are no more condoms and no more birth control pills, not even any more morning-after pills. If you are going to have sex you have to accept the responsibility that you might be creating a baby and all the life changing things that leads to. I wonder how the paired off adults are handling this?

Anne let slip that she and Lee took care of that issue pre-NRS. I'm not sure about Glenn and Saen or Austin and Sarah. Melody told me that while she and Cease want to wait until at least after the summer, they are prepared and have plans in case she gets pregnant. I think a lot of the women are waiting to see how Terra and then Rhonda and Patricia do with their pregnancies and births.

Speaking of Terra, she is really waddling. I saw her at breakfast and she looked just about as uncomfortable as you can get without actually being in labor. I'll be amazed it she makes it to a full 40 weeks although I know for a fact that first babies are generally late. If she does make it to 40 weeks I hope the poor girl doesn't have to go much further than that. I know it became a habit to induce pregnancies that went 10 days late but we don't have the capacity to do that anymore. I wonder what the prescribed procedure is if you have no medical intervention? Strip the membrane maybe? Ew! As much as I love my kids, I'm very happy no to have to worry about getting pregnant any more. I had to have medical intervention each time because of emergencies. Scott used to joke and say he thought you were supposed to get better at something the more often you did it. I couldn't stand it when he would make me laugh when I was in labor, Lordy that hurt.

The one thing I have missed is being able to breastfeed Kitty. I've heard that you can get your body to cooperate if you are determined to breastfeed a child when you haven't been pregnant but it takes a strong desire and practice (and sometimes drugs) for that to happen. I'm 42 and I doubt even under optimal circumstances I could have pulled that off. There are some things that suck about getting older, but I wouldn't give Kitty up for the world. I can't tell the difference between her and our biological children at all. Biological or adopted our kids are ours and we'd die for them and all the trouble we've had has been and will always be worth it.

I'll tell you someone though who is rethinking the trouble they are having with their kids. Tina is fit to be tied with Laura. Every time they give that child and inch she tries to take a mile. Yesterday she even went outside the Wall without permission to talk to a young man in the peddler group. After Tina got finished reaming her out a good one, Laura says, "But he was just so cute." Even Maddie's mouth fell open at that one. I hate to say it, but in a way I'm glad that Laura doesn't want to hang out with my Sarah and Bekah any longer. That girl is just plain too much. I can foresee some real problems down the road as she gets older, and maybe not that far down the road at the rate she is going.

Maddie on the other hand appears to be trying really hard; not always succeeding, but she is trying so I'll give her brownie points for that. Tina and Dante' have taken over raising her. Brandon simply is not old enough, or strong willed enough, to be an authority figure for her. Tina says she still cries for her mother every once in a while, but apparently Trish was a distant kind of mother that was trying to relive her own childhood through Maddie's popularity; kind of like a beauty pageant mother only not quite as extreme as the stereotype. Tina's very hands-on approach to parenting is much closer to what Maddie apparently needs and she's thriving. Too bad Tina and Dante' can't find the magic bullet to help Laura.

Well here it is, late again. I had meant to go to bed early and get some extra sleep but it doesn't look like that is going to happen. Maybe I'll catnap tomorrow while Kitty takes a nap as well. Can't hurt to dream anyway.


	151. Day 191

**Day 191 (Wednesday) – February 7th**

The rain let up some time during the night but it left a mess behind. I had to clean up the cooking area before I could even think about starting breakfast. And with several people down sick with whatever is going around I wanted something quick and easy to clean up. Bonus is that Italian Breakfast Cobbler is portable so people could take their food and go someplace else to eat it rather than sitting cheek by jowl sharing their germs.

The cobbler was really easy and filling. Basically you take bulk sausage and add some Italian seasonings to it. Brown it up with onion and green peppers then add some mushrooms. Add some spinach – in this case I was using canned spinach that I had drained really well – and mix everything until you have an evenly distributed filling. Dump this into your casserole dish or pan and top with some cheese. In another bowl you want to make a "crust" out of flour, parmesan cheese, milk, butter, and eggs. Once your crust mixture has been whisked smooth, pour it over the meat and cheese mixture. Then you just bake it until your crust is golden brown. Filling and warming. For those that enjoy it I made one pan extra spicy and for the younger kids I made a pan that was pretty mild.

While I was getting breakfast, the girls were hanging out the still damp laundry and marking the items that needed mending. Thank goodness for my Sarah. She can really darn socks quickly. I still have to do all of the button holes that have come loose, those whip stitches can be a little tricky, but even Bekah can sew buttons back on. Rose helps when she can but she doesn't have a lot of patience for sewing any more. She did when she was younger and it was all new and fun being able to do things her friends couldn't … now she'd rather stitch up a person than stitch up a shirt.

After breakfast I hurried off to check on the gardens leaving the kids to do their morning chores. Rose is doing fine after a good night's sleep but James came and got me when he came in from guard duty and told me that David was burning up and shivering at the same time. Sure enough he is sick all right. I dosed him during the night and Waleski checked on him. It's a virus of some type that may or may not be a flu virus and that being the case the only thing to do is allow it to run its course. He has slept the day away and says he is feeling a little better now that the fever is under control. James is sleeping on the floor with the boys until David is better to avoid germ transmission and I misted the room with my hoarded Lysol several times during the day.

As far as the gardens go, the heavy rain did beat down some of the seedlings but I propped them back up so hopefully no harm done. The plants loved the rain as far as I can tell. They like the warmer weather we've been having as well. The rain made it kind of cool-ish yesterday, but by this afternoon we were into the mid 70s which has been really nice. We'll see a few more cool snaps but the danger of frost should be totally gone by now.

After I made sure that all of the gardens didn't wash away – and chased off some ravens that were in the cornfield until Johnnie and Bubby could come by and shoo 'em off further with their sling shots – I had some of the kids helping me to gather the tail end of the citrus trees that were about to give out. The youngest, those unable to climb up the trees to pick, were given the job of picking up the fallen fruit and tossing it into a basket. I scrape out the pulp of this fruit for the pigs and throw the peels into the compost pile. It's a little labor intensive but "waste not want not" as the old saying goes.

Glenn came up with a grand idea and I told Saen to give him a big fat kiss for me. After I brought it up at council the other night I guess some of the guys had been putting their heads together on the refrigeration issue. They sketched out a plan that should work and it will be finished well before truly warm weather sets in which I consider to be a blessing. I don't know if we'll actually be able to make ice but they assured me that it will definitely keep things cool enough to keep them from spoiling until we can preserve them in some other way. That'll definitely be important if we want to continue hunting through the warm months.

Glenn volunteered to head up the project and though it takes warm bodies away from the gate house framing its important enough that we voted to do it. But all of these projects really points out our limitations. We have a crew gathering on Dale Mabry, we have a crew working on the gate houses, and now we have a crew working on building a large walk in refrigerator. That doesn't even include our normal chores like cooking, cleaning, and gardening … nor does it include guard duty. Well, we are OK for now and the sooner we get the other projects out of the way the better off we will be.

For the "cooler" as we are calling it Glenn brought in a nice sized refrigerated trailer, the kind that usually haul produce or frozen stuff to market. He backed it up and parked it under a large shade tree next to the food store house. Then he scraped several other refrigerated trailers and attached their insulation in additional layers on the outside of the main trailer body. On the outside of that they took insulated siding they had scavenged off of some of the buildings that are being dismantled to weather proof the whole thing. Scott also suggested that they strap the whole thing down like you would a mobile home just in case of high winds.

The "cooling" part of the whole contraption came from the guts of several RVs that had refrigerators that ran off of propane. OK, for the nontechnical wannabe but never will be geeks out there, here's the explanation I was given.

Seems that most RV refrigerators use anhydrous ammonia. They use heat to compress to the coolant rather than a mechanical compressor. Some of the newer RVs converted over to electrical compressors but enough of those other types are still out there that is wasn't all that difficult to find enough coolant parts for what we wanted to do. This is Florida after all. And in some places on the interstate and in some of the retirement communities, RVs are as common as four door sedans. Some of them are pretty wrecked up but the guts are still salvageable.

What Glenn had proposed was that instead of trying to find a constant supply of propane was that we convert the heater part to use a Fresnel lens. A Fresnel lens is what was used in lighthouses to make the light brighter so that it could be seen further. The surface of the Fresnel isn't smooth, but has this jiggy-jaggy cuts in the surface instead. Yeah, I know, real technical that but I'm not sure what else you would call it. They used to make these plastic sheets to go in front of your computer screen like a magnifier that was a version of the Fresnel lens and that's a close as a description as I can come.

The men even went so far as to have a backup plan in case of overcast or rainy days when there was no sunlight for the Fresnel to collect. The Fresnel can be removed and a small fire can be used as an alternative heat source. Now I think that is cool … let's hope it actually works. Not that I doubt the guys or anything but I'd hate to get my hopes all up and then have the thing not work for some reason. They said it should be finished late tomorrow and I guess we will give it a couple of days to cool down and then we'll see what we'll see.

Since the cookstove was pretty much totally taken over by the canning some of us were doing, we used Dutch ovens and made Apple, Bean and Ham casserole using Spam, canned beans, and some dried apples. It was really good. For dessert everyone had Black Forest Cobbler made from chocolate cake mix, canned cherry pie filling, and some chocolate bars that we need to start using because they are getting "old."

The folks that went on the run didn't come back with anything spectacular. I figure now that six months have come and gone the likelihood of finding a real jackpot have slimmed down significantly. McElroy reported that many of the places they went into looked like they'd already been ransacked at least once. McElroy did bring back some ceramic tiles and supplies for the house he and Rhonda are finishing up renovating. They, like the rest of us, have ripped out most of the carpeting and are down to bare concrete because it is easier to care for. Rhonda was just going to leave it bare but Scott asked everyone why they would do that when its simple work to lay tile. Eventually that's likely what everyone will do. Heck of a lot easier to push a broom than it is to beat out wall to wall carpeting.

The front gatehouse is now framed in. Lordy it's a monster. Scott wasn't sure exactly what to use on the exterior of the gatehouse. He didn't want to use wood because of the fire hazard. We are beginning to run out of the wooden telephone poles anyway and will only be using them from framing from here on out. The concrete telephone poles are nearly as numerous as the wooden one were so he figured out a way to use them. He lays them on the wooden framing just like the wooden poles were laid against the steel storage containers that make up the Wall. Instead of nails however they are using metal hurricane straps they've been taking from some of the big metal warehouses up and down US41.

It looks more industrial than the rustic wooden poles but the concrete ones are more uniform which helps with leveling and such. There are two large gates on either end of the gate house. The exterior gate leads from US41 into the gatehouse and then there is an interior gate that leads into Sanctuary. The gate house is long enough to fit a bus and the F350 end to end so only one of the gates has to be opened at a time. Along the top of the gate house Scott and Matlock worked in murder holes and a few other surprises should we need to. And guards can walk along the top of the gate house with impunity because they have plenty of cover.

After the gate houses are complete I think Scott and Matlock have talked about building a trebuchet as well as possibly tearing up US41 even more to install two collapsible "bridges" across "moats" that can be blown to prevent direct access to our main gate. Who knows what kind of nasty stuff they plan to eventually install at the rear gate. I swear my husband gets more blood thirsty with every project.

Since I had the stove blazing away I decided to go ahead and make some more preserves; the loquats and tropical apricots were perfect for this. It always makes me a little nervous when I start using great quantities of sugar but it is what it is. The sugar cane is doing really well without much assistance from me. Harvesting is still a long way off but I just have to have faith that I'll be able to figure out how to make do with whatever we have when we run out of the processed sugar.

I let the kids plant a bunch of sunflowers today. I hope they take. My luck with sunflowers has been hit or miss over the years, same with the nasturtium that I had them plant as well. Both could be a really great addition to our diets. That's if we can save them from the squirrels and other varmints.

Speaking of varmints, Austin sat and pegged squirrels for two hours without having to move with that pellet gun he brought back from Lowry. I guess it makes him feel useful considering he's lamed up and can't do much else.

And Angus also did some hunting today. Jim gave us a scare a bit ago. I thought his shoulder or collar bone was broken for sure but it was only a dislocation. He'd decided to take one of the horses out riding on the outside of the Wall. He just needs to get off to himself sometimes. I think he is thinking of home and needs privacy to do it in.

On that particular ride he had a snake cross his path. He tried to shoot the snake with the side arm he was carrying but he said as soon as he pulled the trigger the horse had a fit. It threw him and he landed hard and on a bit of gravel. We had all assumed we'd be able to use the horses to hunt with and various other types of travel but if they were going to bolt at every loud noise that wasn't going to work. Thankfully the horse returned to Sanctuary but that didn't help Jim's sore shoulder.

Angus decided that until Jim was recovered he'd try and help out getting the horses exercised and used to gun fire. That's something that only looks easy in the movies. I'm not … fond … of horses. Nothing against them personally but I feel about them the way some people used to feel about computers; if I can avoid using them I do. I don't know who all is a decent rider all I know is I'm … not. Every time I have to get on a horse my butt, back, and thighs are so sore for then next two or three days I can hardly stand it. I had someone tell me I ride like a sack of potatoes. I don't have any reason to contradict that if you want the truth.

My Sarah on the other hand acts like she's been around and on horses her whole life and that's about as far from the truth as you can get and still be in the same hemisphere. I could count on one hand the number of times Sarah had been up on a horse before we built Sanctuary. Samuel on the other hand used to take riding lessons and can do all the fancy bouncing around things and can even run barrels … race barrels … barrel racing … whatever the heck you call it he's good. And the datgum things listen to them.

We have this horse out in the pasture called Lady. Well, Lady is no lady let me tell you. That horse has it in for me. She's kicked the fence I was leaning against, gone out of her way to come across the field and lean over the fence to try and bite me, and she pulls my braid every chance she gets … don't even think she minds me when I tell her to leave me alone. But for Sarah and Samuel … she's a princess. Between me and you future reader, I think she took affront the time I threatened to send her to the glue factory but you'll never hear me admit to having said it.

Scott surprised everyone by giving Sarah permission to help Angus with the horses outside of the Wall. Samuel turned pleading eyes on his mom and dad and after Angus assured them that they weren't going too far he was allowed to go as well. Laura has to be a snothead about it but nothing worse than we've all come to expect. I think Scott must have had an understanding with Angus 'cause it was real clear that there would be no heroics or antics while they were out and Scott read both kids the riot act before they left.

They took six of the horses, three to ride and one tied to each saddle. Angus said the kids just about talked his ears off until he stopped sudden when he spotted some deer at the edge of the field where he had intended to set up.

There were 8 deer in total, whitetails but no antlers. According to Angus he figured they were all does since there were so many clumped together and none had antlers. They watched from their position and the deer didn't come out the other side of the tree line after they had started moving along.

Angus made a decision to change plans and brought the kids back to Sanctuary straight away after promising he would take them out another time. Scott met them at the gate thinking there might have been an emergency. Angus asked the kids to take the spare horse back to the horse paddock and tend to them and then explained to Scott about the whitetails.

Scott whistled for James and they volunteered to go on the short hunt with Angus. When Angus asked whether Scott had let me know where they were going he said, "Nope." After a second Angus sighed and said, "You're going to blame me aren't you." According to James Scott smiled real big and said, "Yep." Honestly. Men. Every one of them suffers from some level of testosterone poisoning. Right when I think I've got them figured out I get shown Just how much I don't. If I was to have done that to Scott he would have been birthing kitties … but me, uh uh, I'm supposed to be the good little wife and understand how the men just have to be manly men and go off without a goodbye sometimes. Grr.

Upon reaching the spot that the kids and Angus had turned around the men stopped. Angus decided to test James and after pointing to the little wooded area where the deer had gone into everyone dismounted.

Angus waved James over and pointed to the target and asked, "What direction is the wind blowing?"

He took a second and answered, "Straight to us."

Then Angus asked, "Where are the deer?" Scott came a little closer and faced the woods. James was looking at the spot also and thinking. He reminded them to think about the wind direction. The patch of woods was close to 40 yards square and James replied, "About the middle would give them line of sight to all four sides."

Angus said, "Yes it would. But let me give you a little hunting lesson." He pointed at the patch of trees and continued, "The wind is coming straight to the woods and then going over it, at the end of the tree line it drops down quickly in a swirling motion and most of the wind keeps coming straight on its way. But that swirling wind coming over the top also sends a strong breeze back into the tree line from behind."

Looking at James Angus continued his lesson. "A deer use its nose as its first defense, so the wind is on its side. If the deer are a few yards into the tree line on the front side, then their nose can cover their front and rear, leaving their eyes and ears to cover their sides."

James staring into the trees slowly started to nod his head up and down. After a second Angus asked again, "So what's the best way to go from here?" It took him a bit to work it out but Angus was pleased when he answer, "From behind and the sides?"

Scott told me James just about blushed as red as the apples I've been craving when Angus said, "You know Scott, I bet he's leading hunts on his own in no time." Scott was certainly proud of him and he's been kidding him about it off and on since then.

That's when they got down to business. Angus had Scott go around the east side while he went around the west side. He had James walk straight ahead and when he got to 30 yards he was to knee and get ready. Scott and Angus crept along the outside and then started into the trees from the back.

Angus told James, "When they spook they're going to come in your direction because going north will put them out in the open. They're bound to stop close to the tree line and be looking back at me and your dad, that's when you take your shot. But just take the one because your dad and I will be coming in from an angle and should each get a good target after you shoot because at that point they're going to scatter and run every place to get out of there."

After going in for a good 10 yards Angus and Scott heard them go. They couldn't see anything through the underbrush but they could hear them going towards James. From that point on it was exactly like Angus had planned it out. James took his shot, Scott took his shot and then Angus brought down his own target.

When James was telling the story over dinner you could see how satisfied he was. Scott's grin was pretty high wattage as well. Angus just looked like he'd done what he set out to do and was glad of a job well done.

James brought the horses to the front of the trees while Scott and Angus dragging the deer to the edge of the tree line. After watching Angus gut the first deer, Scott and James started working on the others. The problem started when Angus when to put one of the deer carcasses on the back on one of the horses. The horses weren't having any of it. Angus said, "I think we might have a small problem."

Even with Scott's help it became apparent that it wasn't going to work. They wound up having to haul the deer on their shoulders to a shaded area out of the brush and over to an overgrown parking lot where they used the walkie talkie to come transport the meat. I've probably mentioned it a time or two but Angus isn't adjusting very quickly to the heat and humidity we call winter. He was sweating pretty good by the time someone from Sanctuary was able to come pick them up.

They got the deer back in time that we did a pretty quick menu change and had fresh venison stew for dinner. Betty and Reba also took the time to show us how to make venison sausage and that's what we'll have with breakfast. I also pressured canned some venison meat and Mr. Morris organized a good measure of venison jerky that was put on the dehydrator trays we reserve for meat. It meant running a battery all night but it's what we have to do to preserve things around here.

And speaking of preserving, think I'll head off to bed and try to preserve me some beauty sleep. My anti-flu remedy is working but I can still tell I'm not at 100%. And frankly, the work isn't going to get any lighter. By the end of this month we'll begin harvesting things from the garden and then most of my time will be taken up with that.


	152. Day 192

**Day 192 (Thursday) – February 8th**

The cooler was finished late today. It's a monster. Of course it's still as warm as a freshly delivered pizza box in there; it will take at least 24 hours to cool off. Maybe longer because that is how long they used to recommend that you let small upright freezers cool down before you started putting stuff in them. This behemoth is a lot bigger than the old freezer your granny kept on the back porch. Assuming it all comes out as planned there is also a better than even chance we'll even be able to make ice.

The way it was explained to me is that it uses the ammonia absorption method similar to what the Cooler has. It makes ice in batches rather than continuously which means we'll have to be responsible and ration it, but if we can maybe frame off part of the cooler to build an "ice cave" sort of deal then we could maybe build up a reserve of ice that would then make it cold enough in the "cave" to make more ice with. Eh, what do I know? Anyway, the ice maker would be solar power using big parabolic mirrors or trough mirrors. The parabolic mirror would shine on the ammonia resovoir, heating the ammonia so that it separates from the water in the system. When the ammonia cools it is absorbed back into the water in the system by bubbling creating a kind of reverse evaporation. It causes a super cooling effect which is what freezes water. Sounds easy and complicated at the same time, like a giant middle school science project, which is kind of what I hope to turn it into.

I talked it over with the other adults and we all agree that while we really need the kids to be part of the work crews, we also need to be a more effective and consistent about making sure they have school time and play time as well. Rilla, Terra, and Rhonda have all agreed that about three times a week they will take the five and under set and do "preschool" for basic reading and math skills. I'm not one to push kids too early, too hard with arbitrary benchmarks that look good on paper but have nothing whatsoever to do with individualized child development. On the other hand, basic skills will let them get their feet wet and will be something they can build on once their lessons become more structured. The teens, those still disposed to "getting an education" will lean heavily into the arena of apprenticeship with a dusting of leadership skills, history lessons, and any of the advanced or applied sciences that work with what the field they are studying. Language arts and literature can be individualized to fall under the heading of leadership and/or history. The tweens will have a combination of structured lesson plans and individualized field training. Its not a perfect system, but it beats the heck out of letting them run young and dumb. Thus far there are only two kids resistant to any idea of "school."

One would of course be Laura who is just going through a contrary stage no matter what it is about. The other is young Liz. Mostly I think Liz is just afraid of failure. If we can find something that Liz is interested in and structure her lessons so that it incorporates stuff from that interest then allow her to build up some confidence I believe it will turn out alright in the end. On the other hand, I never believed in beating a dead horse. If she doesn't want to participate I'm not sure what we can really do about it at this stage. Right now I'm just not ready to fight that particular fight. We have too much stuff going on as it is.

In other construction news, the roof and walls are up on the front gatehouse. I think it looks good, a little odd in relation to the Wall, but it definitely adds a measure of protection and defense that we didn't have before. One of the few things they have left to do is hang the new outer gates and put in a floor of limestone that they've hauled in from a local landscaping company.

The tarmac, concrete, and road bed have been badly torn up in the various raids we've endured. Once the road surface has been compromised it didn't take much more than a rain storm and a little traffic to make the small holes into big craters. Scott finally decided that as long as we were going to tear up the railroad tracks at that point then there wasn't any reason not to go ahead and tear up the road within the gatehouse. It was a lot of work but using sledge hammers and large pry bars they levered the large chunks of concrete up and out of the way and piled them off to the side to be used in building field walls next fall after we've cleared more of the semi-standing structures to the north and south of Sanctuary. I want to try planting rye and we need at least one good sized hay field to feed the animals off of this winter. A short wall won't stop animal incursions but it will let other people know that what's inside the wall already belongs to someone and stealing will likely draw a reaction.

The limestone they replace the concrete with will be much easier to maintain than anything else we could come up with, similar to a gravel road. All we'll have to do is grade it out every once in a while. We could have gone the corduroy road route but wood to ground contact around here pretty much guarantees problems with termites.

And horrors … one of the houses that need to be torn down is infested with termites! Scott thinks they're just subterranean termites and not the dry-wood type but that's still bad enough. He had McElroy's crew make a side trip to a couple of different "Do It Yourself Pest Control" businesses that he knew of and had them bring back all the chemicals that they found. Tomorrow, instead of starting on the rear gatehouse like he wanted to, the construction crew will start treating all the houses in Sanctuary as a preventive measure against termites and finish dismantling the houses that are coming down of all the stuff that is worth keeping. The biggie he was happy they found was a huge supply of this stuff called Termidor. It will let him treat effectively without having to tent the building and use gas and fans. The big plus with that stuff is that it also treats for all kinds of ants, from those tiny Crazy Ants right up to the super destructive Carpenter Ants. I'm hoping it will also keep the Fire Ants out of the houses and down to a minimum. As soon as he finishes treating everything, they'll begin tearing down the condemned buildings and hauling the debris over into the burned out zone left behind by the Big Fire that is now mostly tall grass and bushes with dangerous sharp pointy objects mixed in. At some point we'll need to burn the junk off, or dig a hole and bury it, but despite the rain things are way too dry for a major burning project right now.

There is already a really big fire burning in the south Tampa area. Reports were radioed in to OSAG and Steve said a family group actually witnessed the lightning strike that set the fire off yesterday. The rain held the blaze in check until about 2 am. After the rain stopped, the fire started eating up anything flammable within its reach. The damp from the rain didn't stop it; it's just slowing it down and making it incredibly smoky. With no fire departments its already eaten up a 10 block radius but looks to be going west as opposed to north; a real relief for us. But when the breeze is blowing right we can sure smell it. But thinking of another big fire - or Big Fire - Scott and Glenn are looking at incorporating fire breaks into the landscape both inside and outside of Sanctuary. Just when it seems you have something figured out something new comes along to teach you otherwise.

Got some more corn planted today and also started a couple of new raised garden beds. I haven't got anything to plant in them yet but it's nice to have them already built. About half dozen of the concrete light poles have been lost because they've snapped or had big chunks break out of them exposing their interior rebar. Scott was just going to discard these until I asked if I could have them hauled over to one of the empty lots I had set aside to break ground in. I have three 45 x 30-foot raised beds now that are three feet high. I laid old aluminum fencing that was in sections too small to be useful for any other project on the bottom and then broken dishes and gravel on top of that for drainage. Now all I have to do is figure out how I'm going to fill them up. A couple of the guys have volunteered to haul the dirt in but its going to require some work. There are some empty fields north of the Dale Mabry/Van Dyke intersection but they'll still have to scrape the top off before they can get to just dirt. And most of that "dirt" is really just sand. If they can bring it in I'll probably have to plant it with something like legumes or sugar beets the first season unless I run across a great source of organic material to mix in. I'm making compost faster and in greater quantities than I ever have, but its still not enough for the size gardens we are caring for.

Also, I had Saen ask me if there were any water buffalo around here. I figured Busch probably has … or at least had … some, though I'm not absolutely positive whether they survived. Get this … when Saen was young her family had a rice farm. She used water buffalos to work the paddies and still remembers how to train the water buffalo; I guess kind of like oxen. There is a large body of water less than a half mile from the northeastern section of the Wall called Lake Sempter that could be used as an irrigation source. There is also a little lake on the other side of US41 called Richard Lake that could be used assuming there is enough empty space to put the paddies in. Not knowing anything about rice paddies I'm leaving the selection up to Saen and Glenn.

A bonus to the rice we could grow would be the fact that after a bit, fish can be introduced into the paddies and that would be another source of food for us AND the fish would control the problems with mosquitoes caused by standing water. Beyond that I would worry about snakes and gators being attracted to any water source but that's what being careful is for.

My only concern is finding the rice seed to start the whole process. Saen says that she has a little bit but that won't be enough for several seasons by doing it like Robinson Crusoe grew his wheat to bake his bread. However, I know that there are … or were … Asian import stores and markets over near MacDill. There were some others near downtown and Channelside. That will mean another run over there into uncertain territory but I don't see how we can turn down the chance to do this.

Tomorrow Matlock and Glenn are going to escort Saen to the two locations I mentioned and see if either one is suitable for rice growing. If they are then day after tomorrow we are going to send a crew over to the Asian market warehouses and see if we can find seed.

And if that proves fruitful then we'll need to start preparing the rice paddies immediately. According to a book I have on Florida flora and fauna, rice is planted in March and a harvest is made in July with a second harvest at some point between August and November depending on variety. Rice seed takes about 6 weeks to germinate and grow big enough for the seedlings to be transplanted. We are really going to have to haul but to have everything set up before March is gone. I have to say, while we still have plenty of rice knowing that they'll be more where that came from will be a big weight off me.

According to that same book, the average harvest per acre is about 130 bushels per acre or about 6100 pounds. Of course that is commercial production and harvesting. And that is with American varieties of rice. I'm not sure what the yield per acre would be for the Thai rice that Saen is looking for. Another resource I found is that rice in the Everglades yields about 4500 pounds per acre. That's still a lot of rice in my opinion and that one of the companions of growing rice are crawfish or crayfish … some southerners just call the little aquatic varmint a crawdaddy. They are good eating. But, one thing at a time; first we need to see if the land is actually suitable for rice cultivation.

Next month, if it continues to warm up like it has been doing, I'm going to plant all of the marigold and calendula seeds I can lay my hands on. I'm almost out of my calendula ointment and that stuff is as good as commercially prepared antiseptic. I started making it a few years ago when I found out it was used extensively during the US Civil War and during the world wars (particular WWI) for treating suppurating wounds and such like.

Rose and James managed to miss the worst of the acne problems that most teenagers have, but that doesn't mean they've missed out on them altogether. Right now James is breaking out all across his back; probably from the chocolate bar Angus snuck him. A couple of the pimples are really painful and one or two of them look like they are trying to get infected. I put a little of the calendula ointment that I have left on the worst of the bumps and he said they are already much less sore and I noticed they weren't as red and irritated looking either. Now all the girls (and a few of the women) want some calendula cream for their monthly break outs. And as I found out with Kitty, calendula ointment is also good for diaper rash. I hope I don't run out before I can make some more up.

Waleski still gets a little crossed eyed when I pull out my "home remedies" but he is more open to trying them on minor cases just to see if they work. Another example of this is little Ty was finally up and running around a bit and fell and sprained his little knee. The boy was crying so pitiful and of course Ski a much bigger sucker for kids than he likes to let on … especially now that he's going to be Ty's step father. I grabbed some milk and stepped calendula flower heads for a bit and then used it as a soak for the knee. The swelling went right down and by dinner they practically had to tie Ty down to keep him from hopping around. The resiliency of most of the kids has been amazing to witness.

Had another sighting of a large group of zombies; these were heading north. What's with the change? First it was like all of the zombies were moving east to west, or vice versa, and now they are heading from south to north. Maybe there isn't any logic to their movements. Makes me crazy when I think about it too hard.

We've attracted some zombies today with all the construction noise and unfortunately there were several runners in the group. They got most of them before they got too close but Brian and Chris got a bad scare when they had one come up out of a bushy area while they were patrolling the perimeter on foot; no bites but it was close. We need to get out and start clearing the grass and bushes that have grown up in the yards and in the burned zone over the last few months. It's letting things get too close before we spot them. And then you get paranoid and start imagining you are seeing things.

For instance, and I didn't even say anything to Scott because I know he'd ask me if it had been pink, I could have sworn I saw an elephant out in the brush outside the north perimeter of Sanctuary today. I know, I know. It does make me sounds a little nutty or like I've been sampling the still's production but I really haven't. And besides elephants can't possibly be any worse than what Angus has taken off tracking. It was a big bear, probably a grizzly by the sound of the sightings. Might not be a grizzly but until we know for sure Angus said he's going to track it like it is one and give it the respect it's due. All we heard from him on the radio is that he had to bed down for the night early and all is going well.

I think Dix and Angus got into it a little bit again … both of them are capable of rubbing each other the wrong way so I think they tend to avoid each other when they can. Dix's high handedness tends to irritate Angus, and Dix has a bad habit of underestimating some of the non-military survivors. I don't think Dix means anything bad by it. Scott says it's a bit of a guy thing too. We've got a lot of alpha males in Sanctuary. Most of the time they all have their own projects and stuff to call their own so territorialness isn't that much of a problem. However, every once in a while its like having too many male lions in a single cage … there's just gonna be a cat fight. And there isn't a dang thing we women can do about it. Just sit back and watch and hope to avoid any spilt blood. As soon as they're done growling the show is over and its like nothing ever happened. I swear somebody needs to write a "how to" manual. They do it for livestock, don't quite understand why it can't be done for men.

We did finally get to meet a couple of the guys from Steve's group. They were out cruising getting a feel for the area since they aren't locals and stopped by as a courtesy to let us know they were in the area. They missed lunch but were in time for tea so I offered them some of the cookies that I had baked earlier. There were four of them and they were a pretty mixed lot, same as us here in Sanctuary. About the only thing I got out of them were their names though I had the feeling that at least one of them had kids as they didn't mind when they got run over by an impromptu game of dodgeball. And they didn't remark on how strange it was to see a bunch of kids so that tells me they must have at least a few tucked away with OSAG. Let's see there was Dave and Rusty, both of whom we've talked to via the radio. The other two were named Jon and Len. I overhead them talking to some guy named Scott on the radio confirming signal strength or some such. All four of them seemed nice enough as strangers go but they were as lip-locked as Steve was in the beginning.

I had to laugh at them when I gave them a bag of black sapotes to take back to Shorty and Steve. Black sapote aren't the prettiest fruit … they are also called black persimmons … but they have a unique flavor and texture that has also gotten them the nickname chocolate pudding fruit. I told them to take the pulp and mash it up with some honey and/or orange juice and they'll have a treat. My guess is they are going to let someone else be the guinea pig on that one. I'll have to ask Shorty if they even bring them back or just chunk them cause they thought it was a joke.


	153. Day 193

**Day 193 (Friday) – February 9th – Cleaning Day**

I'm trying really hard to get back on my schedule, the one we developed so long ago to help us accomplish everything that needed doing during the week: Monday = wash, Tuesday = mending, Wednesday = water harvesting and treatment, Thursday = food prep, Friday = cleaning, Saturday = baking, Sunday = rest. The cooler months has meant that folks don't make quite so many sweaty and smelly clothes so the laundry load is a little light. As a result we can normally get the mending done on laundry day as well. That left Tuesdays for major gathering runs.

We haven't stuck to that though which has been a little annoying for me. I'm very flexible so its not changing the schedule exactly. Its more not adhering to a decision that we all voted on that is annoying. I know it is for a good reason but it makes future scheduling crazy. Like trying to schedule in time for the kids' school work. How are we supposed to get definite times set aside for when concepts will be covered and assignments completed and turned in if we are constantly being told that the tweens and teens are needed to fill in gaps left by people that had to go on the gathering runs. I am getting more than a little irritated. Again, I know it's a necessary "evil" but this is really getting out of hand. I've got to find some way to impress on Dix and Matlock that they can't keep doing this with the kids. And, this also takes them away from chores they are responsible for in their own homes. Whether they are littles, tweens, or teens … they are still kids. Treating them like they are adults up to a certain point is one thing, but to deny them the ability to enjoy what remains of their childhood is something different all together. I don't know why, but this is really eating at me lately.

The gathering runs are taking longer, both in time and distance, to bring in the same amount of useful to semi-useful stuff. No large food supplies have been found in the last couple of days. No large supply of ammo has been found. The tiles and other building supplies are being tucked away in the storage containers so I guess that is a good thing but we could get most of that by transferring more effort into dismantling houses in the area which would use much less fuel. A full propane truck was found in a warehouse today as was 200 gallons of unleaded fuel, but no diesel which is what we've been using the most.

I don't know if it is the female in me, but with only men going on the gathering runs for the last little bit, I'm wondering if they are missing things that the women would catch. I'm wondering if they are overlooking some shops just because they think they wouldn't be worth anything.

Tomorrow Scott has promised to take me and a few of the other women that want to go on a drive through of the area that McElroy's crew has been gathering from. It may or may not be an all day event; a lot depends on whether we see anything we want to investigate more closely. For example, the guys acted like they had hit the jackpot when they brought back a bunch of socks and underwear … but they were all men's sizes. When they were asked if there had been any women's sizes in the store they said they didn't notice any. Uh huh. What about children's sizes? Nope, didn't notice any of those either. Yeah, sure. I'm inclined to believe that they didn't notice any, I'm not necessarily inclined to believe that that was because there weren't any there.

But that's tomorrow; today was cleaning day. Since we don't eat at home very often what remains of the kitchen and dining room tend to stay much neater and take less time to maintain. Since we do all of our laundry out of doors it's the same thing for the utility area. Indoor bathrooms are another thing of the past. Because of no electric lights most shaving gets done outside as does most of the bathing; all that means that the bathrooms don't get near as dirty as they did before. But the floors take more cleaning because we track more in and don't have electric vacuums. The rugs have to be taken outside to be beaten. The windows stay open much more which means more dusting. Bugs are turning out to be a bigger problem that I like but there isn't much more we can do about it. There is just so much mess out in the urban areas right now and not much to cut back on the bugs' breeding. Every couple of weeks I have the kids rake up the leaves from around the house and that keeps the German and Asian roaches out of the house somewhat. The stuff that Scott and the gathering crew bring back from those pest control places has already begun to help; I find dead bugs all over the place which is pretty gross yet strangely satisfying. But the long term prognosis isn't good when the chemicals run out. Natural repellents are just that, repellents; they don't really kill to any great degree.

Today was another hunt. Matlock was very interested in Saen's idea of using water buffalo like teams of oxen. He took a small group and went to Busch Gardens and brought back three and a half likely looking specimens. The reason I say three and a half is because Matlock decided to bring back a female buffalo cow that looks to be well into pregnancy. None of the animals were skittish and were obviously still used to humans though it has to have been some time since they've had much interaction. This should make Saen's job of training them quite a bit easier.

Jim and a couple of the other young men brought down a couple of those big gazelle looking animals and Matlock brought down a gator, although I guess the term bringing "down" doesn't really apply. He brought back a gator that scared the crap out of him when he lunged up from under some greenery near one of the standing water pools. They wanted to bring back some pig but didn't find any though the evidence of wild pigs in the park was all over the place. A lot of the greenery and green spaces were rooted up. The baboon troop, the one that terrorized us so badly on that first trip, was nowhere to be seen. My guess is they may have used up the food sources within the park and they branched out. Or, they were driven out by predators.

The elephants were also gone from the park. I finally got up the courage to mention something to Scott about my possible sighting and he laughed but not too badly at me. Actually what he said was that seeing elephants couldn't be as bad as seeing Angus' reaction to finding a snow leopard on top of the fire station. He was stepping out right at dawn and watched the thing climb down and then head northwest through some dense foliage. It hasn't been back which probably means that it is either dead or heading toward new territory.

It's very freaky how many animals we see heading north. It might be that they are migrating and getting away from the heat and humidity but still. Of course, a lot of birds begin their annual migration back north starting about now. Sometimes I wish I could fly with those birds and see what is going on in the rest of the country, around the world. The small glimpses we get through Steve's broadcasts only whet my appetite and make me think of more questions.

Frankly I'm somewhat surprised that we haven't heard more from what supposedly remains of the central government. Scott, who was a real current events and history buff before NRS shrank our world, says that no news is not good news in these circumstances. It's not that he is expecting … or even wanting … the central government types to come back and "save the world" but they did perform a job. If we have an invasion by a foreign country, so we have any defenses manned and ready to go? Are they cleaning up and repairing the interstate traffic routes and assisting in interstate commerce? Too many questions and too few answers.

Speaking of questions the kids keep asking me when Uncle Angus is going to be home. All that I can tell him is that he is tracking the bear. He's been gone two days now. Hopefully he'll be back in the next day or two with good news; either the bear is gone from the area or he has dealt with it post haste.

Four days left to prepare for Commitment Day for our couples. On the 13th I'm going to back a huge sheet cake and do my best to decorate it nicely. We are going to roast a pig and fix an assortment of side dishes. The still will provide some adult beverages but for the children and those of us not imbibing for whatever reason I'm going to fix a really nice non-alcoholic punch. And get this, we'll have ice.

The cooler has definitely gotten cooler. It's not cold yet but it was cool enough that we could put the meat that Matlock and team brought back into the cooler while processed it a bit at a time. By tomorrow at this time we should definitely have a nice walk-in sized refrigerator to use. I don't want to get dependent on it but it will be nice being able to save milk from one day to the next, storing homemade cheeses, and having a safe place to store meat until we can get it cooked, canned, or smoked.

Tomorrow the first batch of ice should be ready. We'll save it and by the 14th we should have quite a bit, certainly enough for a party and maybe even enough for the kids to make "kick the can" ice cream. If it works for Commitment Day then we'll be able to make cake and ice cream for Bekah's birthday which is the 16th.

I got into a bit of a contretemps with Waleski; partly my fault and partly over reaction on his. I've been a parent longer than he has been a medic. He's a good medic but is a little on the controlling side due to his desire to do a good job.

Sis woke up crabby and cranky this morning. I wasn't too worried about it, everyone has an off day. By midmorning she had developed a pretty high temperature however. Sis is just three or there abouts so she can't really take adult meds and anyway, I've never been one to just run to the medicine cabinet or the doctor over every little ailment. She didn't have a rash and wasn't showing any other signs of illness except for the fever. It is was a virus nothing much could be done about it except to let it run its course.

I washed her down and gave her natural defenses time to kick in. The fever didn't break or come down. That's where I probably should have said something to Waleski, even if it was out of common courtesy, but I didn't. I had given him my last fresh thyme and the new stuff wasn't ready for harvest. My dried thyme was over at the mess hall and frankly I was too lazy to go get it as I was in the middle of mopping floors. Looking through the house I found my poultry seasoning and made up a cold tea for Sis to drink.

Why poultry seasoning of all things? Well, poultry seasoning has thyme, marjoram, and sage in it. All thread are good herbal remedies for fever. Why cold? It's better to give young children cold tea when they already have a fever; at least that's always what I've been told. I sweetened the tea with just a touch of pasteurized honey. She wasn't thrilled with the taste but was thirsty enough that she didn't fight it too much. Then I laid her in on a pallet in my bedroom and let her sweat it out. By the evening she was much improved and the fever was completely gone.

Waleski's nose was out of joint however. The only thing that Rose and Rachel ever openly disagreed on was my use of home remedies. Rose believes in them whole heartedly having been raised on them and knowing firsthand how well they can work. I have been happy to see that Ski is at least willing to consider alternative methods, or perhaps I should call them more traditional methods, rather than just the modern medications everyone seemed to have become so dependent on. But fresh after a round of flu going through Sanctuary and on top of having four pregnant women to look after, he was a little sensitive to what I think he took as criticism. When he overheard Rose and Melody talking about Sis' fever he came tearing over here and nearly got in my face.

Luckily we both backed down and then I apologized – no skin off of my nose to do so – and explained that it wasn't a criticism of him or his talents. He explained his side which is that he is trying to nip any kind of illness in the bud in case it is something catching. I admitted to seeing his point but privately I told Scott that it felt too much like someone questioning my skills as a parent and trying to tell me how to do my job.

Scott understood. I hadn't realized that he's had his own share of having to deal with things in ways other than what he would have normally. Scott and I have always been very independent. Neither one of us wants Matlock's or Dixon's job but we also don't necessarily want them telling us how to do everything either. We feel the lack of privacy we have to run our family the way we choose to do so, and not just which way works best for the majority. That brings me back around to the kids working. I'm the parent, I should be saying how much my child will and will not work. I know them best and I'm the one that is trying to provide a future for them, and have their personal best interests at heart … well, Scott and I are. Some days I feel a little bit too much like a cog in a wheel. On the one hand I know that I serve a purpose and without me the machinery of Sanctuary wouldn't run as smoothly. On the other hand, a cog doesn't have any self-will or self-determination. A cog is all that a cog will ever be. Scott and I have always wanted more than that; or at least more than that on our own terms. We certainly have always wanted more than that for our kids.

That's another adjustment reaction I guess. We need other more now than we did pre-NRS. Pre-NRS we were about as independent as we could get. Now however, now we do need other people and that comes with some compromises that are turning out to be more difficult to swallow than I expected. Pride goeth before a fall … I don't think Scott and I could have done as well as a single family group as we have done as member of survivors' community. But, on some days I'd like to just go back to doing things the way we want to and being the bosses and setting our own schedule. Selfish or short-sighted, I'm not sure, but I feel like our independences is being taken away a little at a time and that bothers me a great deal.


	154. Day 194

**Day 194 (Saturday) – February 10th - Baking Day**

What is up? It's like everyone has PMS or something, myself included. Stress. Fatigue. Pre-wedding jitters. I think it is all of that and more. This day has sucked!

Scott and I were kind of growly at each other this morning which didn't start the day off very well. Either the kids woke up in the same mood or we infected them with our crankiness. But by breakfast I could tell it wasn't just our family. A general air of something … maybe of slight depression … seemed to hang over everyone.

Breakfast was only slightly mollifying. I think it was more the coffee and strong tea than the stacks of fresh pancakes and canned bacon that helped. Everyone sat around glumly, waiting until the very last second before they had to head off to their scheduled chores or duties.

I had a raging headache most of the day which did not improve when I had a run in with Dix and Matlock over their constantly pulling the kids from home chores and school work to run errands for them, be put on work teams, etc. It devolved into a shouting match and me telling them if they didn't back off my kids wouldn't be participating in any of their little chore charts.

Things got real quiet after that. I told them that they were making a lot of assumptions and disrupting my ability to parent. It is one thing to take a willing and able older teenager and put them on guard duty or on some other compound duty roster, but the tweens and younger crowd were being leaned on too heavily. They were just kids and further more I resented the fact that they assumed that it was OK with me for them to just haul them out to do whatever, whenever without my permission.

I reminded the crowd of people that had gathered that we had built Sanctuary as a place of safety and at least in part to give our children a level of normalcy that had been missing in the beginning. Now that we are at a place that we can do that, despite it being an adjusted normality, we were doing just the opposite than what we had all envisioned. If they wanted to continue going on runs with fewer and fewer returns for the trouble then that was up to the adults. But if they did want to do that they didn't have any right to expect that they could just assume that the kids would fill in the blanks they leave in their wake here in Sanctuary. Someone wants to go on a run then find an adult to fill their spot on guard duty. Someone wants to go hunting, do it on their free time and find an adult to take over any chores like with the animals or construction crews.

Tasha, who I really hadn't had that much to do with as she hung out mostly with Cindy, Tina, and Becky, came out of left field and made the comment that maybe I had too much parental responsibility and maybe the Council should rethink my adoption of Bubby, Sis, Kitty, and Charlene and her two littles and spread that responsibility around a little more. Well that's when Scott really roared.

I hadn't noticed him walk up. He flat out was ready to walk away from Sanctuary and our home over this. You just do not push that man passed a certain point. David, James, Rose, and the rest of our kids … including all our foster kids … prepared to walk away with us. What really choked me up, and drew me up short, was that Melody looked at Cease and they grabbed Belle and Trent and were walking with us.

I was shaking with fear but with fury as well. Now I understood how some of the other early survivor communities had split. And I hadn't realized how easy it would be for it to happen to us.

Strangely Dix was the only one to step into the breach. He gave out that loud whistle he has and practically bellowed, "Damnit Scott, Tasha isn't speaking for me. Slow down man, let's talk this out."

When Scott gets angry it's one thing; but when Scott gets furious … it's bad. Not even I care to be around him when things have gone that far. "Fuck this shit. I was there and helped to pull your asses out in the very beginning as much as you pulled mine out. I've been here for this place and each and every person here since the beginning. We've opened our home, our resources, our hearts time and time again. Sissy has worked herself sick and my kids have done as much as most of the adults around here. This has been our home … not Sanctuary - but this street, this city - longer than anyone else here. But shit on this … no one, abso fucking lutely no one threatens my family in any way, shape, or form. No one tells me how to run my family. And I'll be damned if anyone is going to tell me who I can be a parent to and how I'm allowed to do it. You got that!"

Matlock stepped in at that point and said, "This has gotten blown way out of proportion." But Dix, maybe understood better as evidenced by him saying, "No it wasn't being blown out of proportion. Something has caused this and it needs to be dealt with." I think maybe he understood how important an issue this is with us. I like Matlock but on this issue I just don't think he got it how serious we were.

We called a Council meeting but asked that only the adults attend and that meant anyone 18 and older. Rose and James, and Charlene as well, were angry about not being allowed to go but I asked them to please be patient and let us try and work something out.

It was a long, drawn out meeting and a lot of things were aired out that I don't care to go into at the moment. Let's just say that my feelings are a little hurt that some would think that I was being arrogant and pushy, that I somehow thought of my family as better than anyone else's. Patricia came to me afterwards and tried to make excuses for Tina and Dante'. I told her I understood that they were still going through the healing process from where Tina was assaulted but that apparently the feelings they had pre-dated that event. As for that little Tasha chick, the way I feel right now I wouldn't turn my back on her. I'm not sure about Cindy, but I'll admit that it doesn't make me very comfortable to know that she and Dix are having some kind of relationship and its possible that she holds some kind of bad opinion of me and mine. It makes me wonder what kind of influence she is trying to peddle in the bedroom.

It's going to be a while before I get over this one. Scott and the other men seem to have worked it out during the meeting. There were handshakes and even a few smiles but I didn't really feel a part of it.

Scott knows I still don't feel very comfortable. He said that he thinks it will be some time before anyone tries to push us on that issue again. I said that made me wonder whether he had been serious about us packing up and leaving and he said, "As a heart attack Babe. I don't want to, but I was dead serious about not taking any more shit. No one threatens our family or those we consider family. We're just stuck for now, but it doesn't have to stay that way."

That's the thing for me I guess. I had started thinking of everyone in Sanctuary like my family. Now, now I don't know what to think. I know families have squabbles although my own immediate family have only had fairly mild ones compared to what some people had going on in their families during the same time frame. This just bothers me.

I hate feeling like I have to watch my back. And I hate being fake. I've always pretty much been a loner except for a few friends and lots of acquaintances. Scott and the kids have always been enough for me. Now when I have to work with these other people I feel I have to have barriers up. Oh well, you live you learn I guess. It's just one more depressing thing to have to deal with. At least now I know that all is not hunky dory and rosy. I just have a hard time finding out that a couple of them have been talking about me behind my back. I'll give myself a couple of days to get over it but I'll be honest here in this journal. It hurts.

Oh, and I guess I have to say that it wasn't everyone. Matter of fact I guess I have to admit that there were more people that said they understood than didn't. All the newest folks pretty much stood back, most of them not even having kids. Anne and Lee said that they didn't want their kids working quite so much on the adult rosters either. Chores were one thing but constant work was another. The Morris family didn't have much to say either but I think that is mainly because their kids are already older.

Becky was … detached I guess you could say. She tried to not take sides at all. I guess she feels that because of her position as Matlock's wife she has to stay neutral, but I know she is close friends with Tina. And Tina made it sound like there were more than a few that agreed with her assessment of the situation.

Speaking of Tina and Dante' I guess I also need to mention that Laura is a lying sack of shit. Not the nicest thing to say about a 13 year old but there you go. There is just something wrong with that child. She's wild to a fault and manipulative on top of it. Apparently she's been carrying tales to her parents about "things that are being said about her and to her."

While denying most of the stories, I reminded them that Laura's behavior wasn't exactly exemplary and that my family wasn't the only one that had dealt with repercussions from that. And that next time, instead of letting the problem of he said/she said fester, to deal with it right away so that the facts can be determined. Scott and I don't have a problem disciplining our kids. There has been more than one occasion when we've assigned them extra chores and made them apologize for being out of line. If they were wrong then we wouldn't have a problem dealing with it. But I'm not going to go back months of time and try and determine who said what and when and whether there was an out and out lie or a misunderstanding. Laura is another one I won't trust as far as I can throw her and I've already told my kids they aren't allowed to play with her or hang out with her and that if there is a problem they are to report to Scott or I immediately.

It was interesting to note that Tina stopped short of calling my Sarah wild and having an inappropriate friendship with Samuel. Scott and I are very careful that Sarah knows the kind of behavior we expect from her and while Sarah and Samuel do spend a lot of time together, they often have one or more littles tagging along or another adult around. As much as I would like to say things couldn't happen with my kids the truth is that nature has a strong pull and there's a reason why there are rules. Laura has already tried to mess with their friendship once that I'm aware of and nearly succeeded. I'm sure she will go back around to doing that, she just hasn't found out how to make it Sarah's fault without drawing Samuel into it and therefore Patricia and Dix as well.

I'll mention one other thing and then I really will try and let this go like I said. Something Tasha said is really sticking it to me. She said because our family was so large we used a disproportionate amount of resources compared to everyone else. And for us to begrudge the kids having to work was just wrong. Dix again pointed out to Tasha that she was relatively new and hadn't been around in the beginning when the only thing the group had to survive on is what we had in our own supplies. Tasha's response? "That was then, this is now."

Scott was almost breathless with fury at this and the breath he did draw was whistling in and out. I wasn't much better, but before either one of us could say anything it was Patricia, Rhonda, Reba, and Betty who stood up and said, "Who is helping to build Sanctuary? Who is helping to design and build the gates? Who is out in the garden every day making sure we have food to put on the table?" And they added a few other things besides.

I have to use that support to offset some of the hurtful stuff. I have to remember I still have friends; good friends. But it still bothers me that Tasha and Tina could be … I don't know … mean spirited I guess. Tina, maybe I can put it down to problems with her kid and trauma from Samson's attack. Tasha though, she's young enough to be my daughter, isn't a parent, doesn't have the greatest background pre-NRS herself. Yeah, maybe her time as a captive of the pirates has soured or warped her a little but I still don't understand it all. Maybe we'll just have to agree not to like each other. And I honestly still don't understand how this all devolved as badly as it did. Dix and Matlock pushed me once too often and I lost my temper – not necessarily their fault as my temper is a well known problem I try to control – but still something is just hinky that my issue with over scheduling the kids into adult tasks could get so out of control and someone could mention taking some of our kids away.

About the only constructive thing to come out of the whole mess is that at the beginning of March Dix has personally promised we will begin making concessions for the kids and their need for more educational and free time. Part of me wants to know why we can't do it sooner but I guess there are some major projects that need to be finished. Matlock also agreed to this but Dix gave his personal promise which may mean he's had some concerns for Samuel or maybe that Patricia had said something. Or maybe … oh heck, I don't know.

Scott and I are still going to go out tomorrow and do a quick run through some of the areas McElroy's crew have already gone through. I'm a little uncomfortable doing so but Scott said I couldn't allow the situation to stop me from doing what I know needs doing. I was going to ask some of the other women to come along but plans have changed. Melody and Rose will be coming; Waleski had already scheduled them both a free day from the clinic since we didn't have anyone sick. David is going to ride shotgun with Scott while James stays home and keeps an eye on all the younger kids with Charlene's help. Cease, who I hope doesn't suffer any backlash from siding with our family, is already scheduled for McElroy's crew who we are supposed to hook up with for lunch. I asked Charlene if she wanted to come with us but she said she'd had her fill of the outside world for a while and would rather stay home if it was all right.

It was strange to hear Charlene call our house "home." Johnnie asked if Charlene was ours now too and James said, "Yes she is twerp so knock it off." Nice big brother thing to say, but Johnnie just laughed and asked Al if he wanted to play cars with him and Bubby. Charlene sighed. I thought at first she was upset about what James had said but instead you could see she was … satisfied? Yeah, I guess satisfied is the best word. Like things were the way they were supposed to be. I wish I could have more of that feeling.

Scott and Jim were talking just a little while ago on the screened lanai to avoid the unseasonably early mosquito problem. He was asking if anything else had been decided about the rice paddies and then went on about something called "yabbing" which is I think kind of like catching crawdaddies. He said he did that plenty back home and that it would be great if we do indeed put some in the hypothetical rice fields. He also relayed that Angus was back but had opted to stay the night at his fire station. Scott said we'll stop by there on the way out and see how he's doing.

I hope I can sleep tonight. At dinner everyone acted like things were back to normal … well, as normal as they ever get any more. But I just couldn't do it. I wound up grabbing my plate and taking Kitty and the littles as soon as they had finished eating and going back to the house. I just wasn't up to socializing and couldn't eat while it felt like all eyes staring me in the back.

Before the sun went down I tended the bits and pieces of edible landscaping that I've been maintaining in our yard. I also took a quick inventory of the food I still have hidden. As soon as I had finished I admitted to myself that was like grabbing a security blanket but bah! Who cares! If others haven't squirreled away a few things "just in case" then that is up to them.

Forget it. I'm going to bed. Writing this out hasn't helped as much as I thought … had hoped … it would.


	155. Day 195

_**Author's Note:** Thanks to all who are reading and enjoying Sissy's journal. For the next three weeks my access to wifi is going to be sporadic. I will try and post as I can so if you are so inclined "favorite" the story so you can get notifications of when I do. The same holds true with the rest of the stories that I am currently posting. Continue to read and review as you are able please and if you don't see a post but a couple of times over the next three weeks just you know it is because wifi didn't happen, not because I have stopped posting. Thanks again!_

* * *

 **Day 195 (Sunday) – February 11th**

I worked today but it was still more of a "rest day" than yesterday was when I didn't do nearly as much as I had scheduled. And I guess I'm more at peace than I was despite still not completely being reconciled to yesterday's events.

We got up early this morning, well before first light, and finished getting ready to go on the run. I gave the kids their assigned tasks for the day and bid them to stay in the house or in the fenced in area in the back. Charlene said she'd take care of it and James, bleary eyed from a short night of sleep after guard duty, said they would all probably stay there since he wasn't scheduled for any Sanctuary duties.

I still felt like the run wasn't the best idea but then again I felt Scott was right, I couldn't let any conflicts I was having with others stop me from living the way I wanted to. Well, within reason of course. James was going to be the oldest left at home and while I have a lot of confidence in him I was feeling … something. Under normal circumstances I would have asked Matlock and Becky to keep a look out or even Patricia, but this time I asked Waleski and Dixon to do it and I'm glad I did. It saved some grief after we got home.

At five, when David got off of guard duty, we headed out the gate with McElroy's crew. We were in the Avalanche with the big trailer attached. They were in the tow truck, bus, and the F350. McElroy's crew was already headed quickly away while we stopped off at Angus' place to find him already up and raring to go.

A sixth passenger would have crowded things too much so the girls and I hopped into the back of the truck and huddled under the makeshift gun port that Scott had built back there while the guys stayed in the cab and talked. I wasn't in much mood for company anyway though I did try and keep up a stream of conversation so I didn't make Rose and Melody upset. It was pretty obvious that I hadn't completely let go of my upset. But by this time I wasn't angry, just hurt.

We were about twenty minutes behind McElroy's crew but we didn't mean to catch up anyway until lunch so we headed south on Dale Mabry Hwy. Scott told me to bang on the back window if I saw any place I wanted to stop but in all honesty I didn't see anything until we got down to the strip center where The Last Pitcher Show movie house was. It wasn't your modern theater but was a place you could go in, sit at a table, eat or drink beer and watch a movie on a full sized screen. They had really cheap dollar movies a couple of times a month and Scott and I had taken the kids there several times. It was sad to think we wouldn't ever do that again, at least not what the kids were still young.

Our group had already cleaned out the theater but missed a couple of other shops in the same complex. The Bead Shop was a place I had always enjoyed browsing but had rarely been able to afford to buy anything in. This time I looked at the girls and we simply threw everything we wanted into a large tub that wound up being too heavy for us to carry by ourselves.

David stood watch over our antics while Scott and Angus were in deep conversation. I guessed rightly that Scott was telling him about what had gone on yesterday. It was all the gold wired and chain that created most of the weight. You should have seen the faces that Scott and Angus made when they tried to lift it the first time. I figured that eventually we might be able to use the gold wire and beads to make things to trade. At the very least they'd make good presents for each other.

From the bead shop we roamed into the florist shop, the locksmith's, and the mortgage company. There wasn't much to find but there were a few things that had been looked over. We hopped back in the Avalanche and went further south and the next stop we made was at the Beall's Outlet and Marshall's clothing stores. Sure enough the guys had completely overlooked all the kids and women's "unmentionables." I even had the girls bag up the out of season swimsuits in case we were eventually reduced to running around in bikini tops and sports bras. Scott was trying to make me laugh … I think. He waggled his eye brows and said, "Woo! Woo!" in that silly way he has when he is trying to be complimentary about something I've picked out to wear. I'll admit it made me grin a little. The man can be really silly when he wants to be and always seems to be able to make me feel better to some extent.

It was hard to be lighthearted though. We were running into more shamblers than I had expected. Nothing we couldn't handle but it still cast a certain amount of reserve over our group. Angus said he'd seen a few as well but had been able to avoid most of them and stayed focused on the bear hunt. He gave me the little notebook he'd been keeping for Bekah and I'll transcribe his story at the end of this journal entry.

After the two clothing stores I didn't see anything of real interest until we passed the Borders and the Barnes and Noble bookstores. We'd actually lucked out and Brandon had been on the run when our crews stopped at these two places and he picked a bunch of great books, CDs, and DVDs to bring back. That meant that the girls and I could go through the stores and pick things out without having to be too particular.

The books were showing some signs of weathering and the back of the stores were dark where the light from the front windows barely penetrated but the stores were zombie free so we were able to get by with our wind up flashlights. It was eeriest in the children's section where I grabbed hardback covers of all of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books as well as biographies, classics, and technical manuals written on a kids' level. I left Melody and Rose to do their own picking after that while I hurriedly went through all of the cookbooks and gardening manuals. From there I went to the travel section and pulled all of the Florida books and several other interesting looking ones that I thought might come in handy for school lessons.

The coffee shop in each bookstore had already been thoroughly gone through but I found the bathrooms were still fully stocked and even had some cleaning supplies under the counters. David grabbed the rolls of register tapes saying that they would make great note paper up in the guard stations. Angus and Scott grabbed all of the maps and street atlases even though we were sure that previous teams had brought copies back with them. Both men said it couldn't hurt to have duplicates of stuff. They looked at each other when they said it so I figure that Angus had agreed to help us find and stock a bug out location in case worse comes to worse. My mind keeps shying away from that but I know that even if things get smoothed over, it simply makes too much sense to have a fallback position just in case.

After the bookstores we turned off of Dale Mabry and onto Busch Blvd and made a quick stop at Val's Basket Shop. It's more warehouse than store and it had indeed been gone over thoroughly. I should hope so considering how explicit I had been about wanting particular things from this place. I still managed to ask for, and be given permission by Scott who was trying to monitory our weight and space limitations, to bring back some of the concrete planters and some of the silk flowers and less practical decorative items. A zombie that had been an older woman in life was still banging around in the office area and I briefly wondered why the other team hadn't put it down. Then it turned around and I saw all the maggots crawling all over it what was left of its face.

I guess the other team thought that it wouldn't be up and walking much longer given its condition but for some reason it was still pretty feisty. Scott and Angus both said to just leave it, it couldn't get out so that's what we did. With ammo getting harder to find we are being more discerning about whether to put a zombie down or let it go. I used my machete a few times today and Scott used the long-handled sledge hammer he has started carrying. It made him feel lopsided until he got used to it but he says now he barely notices the weight of it.

We must look like quite a pair – crazy machete woman and a black haired Thor wannabe – but it works for us and its more quiet that a gun would be. David has been thinking about carrying a scythe or a long handled sickle and James favors the compound bow he found months back. And of course the kids all can use a slingshot quite effectively these days. If you had told me eight or nine months ago we would become dependent on medieval weapons and battle defenses I would have called you crazier than a hog drunk on corn mash.

Busch Blvd ended and Gunn Highway began and the businesses became smaller and I wasn't sure exactly what to expect or where to stop. The jewelry stores and pawn shops were already looted long ago. The gun shops the same. McElroy and his crew had already gone through all of the automotive and tire shops along the way so we didn't bother stopping there either. The furniture stores and flooring stores were also picked over as were the paint and other construction materials locations.

I did stop in the Big Lots center and took a look around in there to prove to myself that it was a waste of time. I also stopped at one of the Walmarts. It looked like a war had gone on inside the building. Long decayed corpses lay everywhere, the shelving was tore up something bad, and I think that is the emptiest I have ever seen one of those types of stores.

We all agreed that we weren't going to risk going into the Mall after McElroy reported hearing growling from inside. In fact, Scott made the girls and I pile into the cab of the truck until we were out of that immediate area all together.

It was about that time that we caught up with McElroy's crew over off of Sheldon Road where they were going through a huge storage facility, one of those that used to be temperature controlled on one side and just regular on the other. It was still a bit before lunch so Scott, David, and Angus went to help pop open the doors that hadn't already been broken into by looters. McElroy saw Scott and asked if they could put a bass boat on top of the trailer and fit a couple of "granny bikes" in the back of the truck. It made for a tight fit for the girls and I in the back but I figured on the way back I'd ride in the back and put the girls in the cab with the guys.

As I was going through one of the temperature controlled units that looked like it was full of nothing more than some vintage clothing and other collectibles McElroy made a point of stopping by. I didn't know how to respond when he said he was sorry he hadn't spoken up more yesterday and that he'd already said the same to Scott a few minutes earlier. Seems he'd heard from Rhonda that Tasha had been talking out of turn almost from the time she had gotten to Sanctuary but that the women had not been paying it too much attention, just assuming she was still reacting to the brutality she had suffered at the hands of the pirates. They thought with time she would acclimatize better to our group. They hadn't realized she had found a willing audience in Tina, nor had they realized the extent of how Tina felt. But either way, Rhonda now felt bad and McElroy said he felt bad for not realizing how things stood sooner and saying something.

The other thing he spoke to me about was now that he was going to be a father, he was beginning to see the sense in how Scott and I had been trying to run our family and the restrictions we had been trying to place on what the kids could and could not do. He said frankly he was scared to death of having to be responsible for one kid, much less the number we had in our family. I told him being a parent was something you grew into, that's why God gave them to you as babies to start with. Babies are a whole lot more forgiving of mistakes than teenagers are. We both gave a chuckle at that and then parted ways and continued doing what we had been doing.

I guess it makes me feel better to know that perhaps some of the people that didn't say anything yesterday, didn't do it out of malice. On the other hand … well, I'm not going to get caught up in that cycle again. I'm trying to write out my journal entry for today, not rehash yesterday over and over again.

At lunch, the girls and I served the food up despite the fact that no one asked us to. It gave me something to do and the girls just wanted to help and be supportive I guess. Both of them are growing into fine women and I'm proud to know them and call them mine for as long as they'll allow me to.

Lunch was a simple affair of rice and beans that had been transported in an insulated cooler used like a haybox. No plates, just paper cups and everyone now carries their own utensils since we raided the camping gear at a couple of different stores; good old metal spork on a key ring or one of those pocket knife looking set ups with a knife, fork, and spoon that all fold away. Everyone also has their own canteen or nalgene bottle they keep on their person at all times.

After lunch we left McElroy's crew behind as there were still several locked areas that they hadn't been gone through yet. Carrying the boat and bikes was a bit awkward but not to the point that we dumped them off. We continued on Sheldon Road until we picked Gunn Hwy back up. Rather than turn down Erlich Rd and come home that route, Scott and Angus decided to take Gunn all the way to Van Dyke and see if there was anything interesting out that way.

There are lots of residential areas to explore but we didn't have the time or the manpower to really do much of that. We did however stop at a place right off the highway that had an old sign fallen over in the yard that said "honey for sale." The occupants had made the effort to board over their windows so we had some hope that something worth something was inside. Sure enough, after a quick and quiet entry through the back of the house we found what looked like a whole season's worth of honey on one of the bedrooms. We boxed that right up and put it into the trailer and some jars went under the feet of the occupants in the truck in case we had to dump the trailer somewhere along the way in a quick getaway. A shed in the rear of the house revealed a bunch of stainless steel equipment that turned out to be a honey extractor and bottling equipment.

There were at least 12 boxed hives full of busy, buzzing bees at the rear fence and I could just make out several more in the wooded area between the house and the lake that was back there. I remembered that Kevin had mentioned having kept bees at one point so rather than take the chance of disturbing the hives we'd leave the moving of the bees to others.

It was right as we were leaving by the backdoor of the house to continue on our way that we heard the deep bass growl coming from the planted pines between the house and the lake.

Jumping Jehoshaphat! Unless you've ever been the hunted (vs. the hunter) you won't be able to understand that awful shivery feeling that runs up your back when you hear certain sounds. As the breeze changed direction, it brought with it the distinctive coppery smell of lots of fresh blood.

Looks like maybe we were trespassing on someone's private hunting preserve. We froze and then slowly backed away from the tree line and toward our vehicle. No other sound was heard. All the other living things in the area had the sense to hunker down and see who won.

Angus had changed from "uncle" into that distinctive hunting mode he has. Scott and David were following his lead. They handed the truck keys to me while they covered our retreat. Before I could get the keys in the door I noticed a feline shape stalking around the opposite corner of the house from which we had come.

The men just had time to turn and shoot as a white tiger charged out of the tall grass. When I say it sprang at us I'm not kidding. It was airborne when all three shots caught it at various locations in its underside. When it hit the ground it rolled but was dead on impact; dead enough that its eyes hadn't even shut and its tongue hung out of its wide open mouth. I'm glad that I had "adult" men with me. Some of the younger types might have been tempted to play Tarzan and fool around too much. With something like this just kill the dang thing and forget the rest. The object is to live. If you've got a story to tell afterwards fine … but you have to be alive to do it, so just shoot it already.

While Scott and Angus called it in, David comforted the girls. It had to have been one of the Bengals from Busch Gardens. Well, maybe not absolutely had to be. There were about 500 registered facilities in Florida that had big cats at them. How many big cats at each of those facilities I don't know. I do remember learning … while Sarah was doing one of her infamous animal research projects … that there were over 10,000 tigers alone in the USA. That's registered animals and didn't necessarily include all of the illegally owned tigers, nor did that include the number of legally and illegally owned other exotic and indigenous big cats like Florida panthers and Florida bobcats, jaguars, leopards, etc.

In the end it didn't matter where the big cat came from originally. It was dead, we weren't. While the men skinned the beast … waste not, want not and it'll probably be one heck of a conversation piece over in the fire house … I looked around to see if there was any place else close enough that I could to do something constructive besides standing around heaving at the smell of the big cat's guts that were splattered all over the ground under the tree where it had been hung up for processing.

There wasn't much except some of the houses up and down the highway had some citrus trees in the front yard that still had fruit on them. I took a tub and started at the next house over. No sooner had I finished the first tree however than Scott came and got me and said we needed to roll. There were several shamblers that had been attracted by the large noise created by all three guns going off at once.

We hefted the now full tub into the back of the truck, I climbed in after it, and everyone else was still getting seated in the cab as Scott pulled away. I flicked some fingers out of the truck bed where I had relieved a zombie of some digits as we were pulling away. Why zombie guts and decaying human body parts didn't bother me and the sight and smell of the tigers innards did is just one of the mysteries of life. Maybe it's because I've become inured to the sight and smell of shamblers in general. Some of the other types of zombies still gave me the willies but we didn't see any of those today.

I'd give a whole lot to say that we found a lot more good stuff but the truth is we didn't. I'm sure there are going to be lots of odds and ends found in the residential areas that we by-passed today but I don't hold out much hope of too many stockpiles of any size. It's now nearly seven months since I started my journal and those homes have all be vandalized and abandoned for some time. If there was food in there it's not going to be a stash of any size.

We did make note of some landscaping materials, stopped at a gardening center where I marked some items for McElroy's crew to bring back today or tomorrow, and did swing into a small plaza and checked out a dental office and a chiropractor's office for some medical supplies and equipment.

After that we turned down Van Dyke Rd and headed towards home. I nearly fell asleep in the back of the truck while we tooled along on a road we had cleared two full lanes on. As soon as we were finished gathering through the area the plan was to create roadblocks from the vehicles we had pushed out of the way. The roadblocks would be about every quarter mile and would be as high as they were wide. The effort of getting around or moving the blockages would hopefully deter some folks or at least slow them down quite a bit and perhaps unnerve them.

If I had known what was going on at home I wouldn't have dozed; I would have been urging Scott to go faster. Dix and Matlock had their hands full. I still don't understand why no one radioed to call us all in. I guess they figured they would find the girl and the situation would be taken care of before we would have arrived.

I'm sitting here - I guess it's around midnight or one a.m. now - and they still haven't found her. Part of me wants to say it's her own fault but I can't really go that far. Tina and Dante' are beside themselves.

It all started within an hour of breakfast being over with. Dix took our request to keep an eye on the kids seriously especially after he saw how tired James was. And Samuel was pestering his Dad to allow him to hang out at our house but Patricia wouldn't let him because she knew I wouldn't have cared to have him over with Sarah without some supervision. It's not that I don't trust Samuel and both Patricia and Dix know that. I just don't believe in allowing unnecessary temptation and I've always taught the kids that their reputations are easy to ruin and hard to fix.

Dix agreed so long as Samuel and my kids agreed to study on their radio and communications work for an hour while he quizzed them on it. Apparently no one saw Dix go over to our house but a few pairs of eyes saw Samuel run over them after telling his mother where he was going. Patricia, of course, knew that Dix was there but she wasn't feeling well and decided to lay down rather than get together with some of the other women as is their normal habit.

Those same eyes had also missed Waleski come over to check on Dix's leg and change the bandages while he knew he had him cornered. Dix wouldn't make a fuss with the kids around and Waleski was smart enough to take advantage of that fact.

I guess as some point in the middle of the bandaging our rear French doors were thrown open and Tasha and Laura came in and basically went, "A ha!" when they saw Samuel and Sarah apparently alone in the kitchen. They weren't doing anything except putting a tea kettle on at the request Waleski but both Tasha and Laura apparently threatened to tell on them. When Samuel and Sarah tried to defend themselves they were basically told who people going to believe, them (meaning Tasha and Laura) or the daughter of mine. It didn't matter if nothing was happening this time, people would think that something had been going on at some point. The only way they wouldn't tell is if they dished the dirt on our family and did what Tasha and Laura told them to. Basically blackmail.

That's when Dix and Waleski came around the corner and let Tasha and Laura know they'd been caught. Waleski had to grab James around the waist from where he'd just gotten up from sleeping in another room and walked in on the girls' last statement.

Dix grabbed the two girls by their wrists before they could run for it and while I probably would have handled it the same way, a grown man grabbing a couple of girls and dragging them outside still sets up all sorts of bad connotations in people's minds.

Of course the girls were starting to try and bluster their way out of things. Dix whistled and Matlock and several other people came running to see what the ruckus was. Well, the details are a little hazy and depend on who you get them from but bottom line is the girls were caught and were trying to talk their way out of a bad way. Then Laura did something really ignorant and I have to think that it had something to do with whatever is going wrong in her head, her inability to control her spontaneous behaviors. She basically accused Dix and Waleski both of inappropriate touching.

Well, that floored everyone. Sarah and Bekah were crying and saying that neither man had ever done anything like that. James was furious as was Samuel. By the time Laura was through weaving her half-baked story it made it sound like we had orgies at our house on a regular basis. And one of the "proofs" she gave was that Scott and I had so many kids. And one of the "proofs" she gave against Dix was his failed relationship with Patricia, his affair with Rachel, and his new relationship with Cindy.

Now, once Cindy started to get drawn into it, Tasha started trying to distance herself from Laura and admitted that she had never witnessed the stories that Laura was telling. But she didn't deny their possibility either.

You can't blame Tina and Dante' from initially siding with their daughter. What's the first reaction that any parent has? It's to protect their child from both real and imagined dangers.

The wilder Laura's stories became the more distance that Tasha tried to insert between herself and Laura. Patricia and Cindy both told me that no one knew what to make of Laura's stories. No one believed them but no one seemed to know quite what to do to stop them either. She was barely 13 years old. No one wanted to make a move on her. Even Dante' and Tina began to have the blinders removed from their eyes. The more she sensed people's disbelief the more hysterical Laura became. No one could go near her and she clung to Tina desperately, perhaps finally beginning to see just how deep a hole she was digging for herself. At some point Laura wouldn't even allow Dante' to come near her.

Leaving the girl to cry in her mother's arms everyone turned to Tasha who is certainly old enough to deal with the consequences of her actions. At that point Sarah said Cindy pointedly walked over and stood beside Dix and put her hand on his arm in a plain and loud statement of support. Guess that kind of tells me where she has been standing … certainly it's better than what I had been imagining.

Tasha tried to blame most of what had been happening on Laura. She said that she had believed Laura's stories and that they were just trying to get "proof" so that they could bring the evilness of our family out into the light of day. Yeah, apparently she said it just like that. When Matlock asked why she hadn't brought it to the attention of someone rather than trying to handle the situation herself she claimed to not know who she could trust. No one would have believed her if she had said something without proof.

What finally broke Dante' was the fact that when Tasha was asked why the girls hadn't gone to Laura's parents Tasha revealed that Laura had told her that her dad was part of it. Cindy said you could just see Dante's heart break. Poor Tina was totally broken up. She tried to deal gently with Laura, believing that she needed to salvage something. But at that point Laura's hysteria went up the scale tenfold and she started screaming how no one understood, that the only one that had understood was Marty but he was dead and now no one loved her but when her baby came, then someone would love her and basically everyone else could go to hell. She ripped away from Tina's grip and ran off.

Well, pandemonium ensued. Tina collapsed and Dante' wasn't much better off. Poor Terra was pretty shook up by everything going on and Waleski had Nick take her home and have her lay down for a while. Likewise Patricia, already not feeling well, was sent home and Betty went to keep an eye on her. Rhonda told me that about the only humorous thing that had happened up to that point was when a wild-eyed Waleski shouted, "I forbid anyone from going into labor or having a baby today!"

I was amazed but Charlene took charge of all my kids, including James, made them come in the house and have a cup of tea or cocoa and basically somehow soothed all of them into calming down. I expect she had plenty of practice given what she had to deal with in her own home life. Bless her for not running away from it. Not even James had a clue what to do.

Dix and Waleski refused to take part in the search party until after Laura recanted her accusations or until after everyone acknowledged that the stories were pure fiction. After we and McElroy's crew returned home Dante' came by and personally exonerated any of us of wrong doing. He apologized and explained a little bit about how his sister had similar problems when she was a teenager but nothing of this magnitude though she had been very wild and willful.

Tina had to be given a sedative though I'm told she is still awake and waiting to hear whether they've found Laura. They tried to use the dogs to find her but they've found her scent all over inside the compound but can't pick it up outside of either gate. That means the likelihood of her still being inside the compound is high; it's not impossible she snuck out without being seen by the gate guards but it is certainly unlikely.

If she were mine my first inclination would be to toast her tail and she wouldn't be able to sit down for a month of Sundays. But on the other hand, if Laura really does have mental issues … whatever they may be … as a group we are all going to need to help Tina and Dante' come up with some kind of plan and hope we can figure out some kind of treatment whether that is behavioral or psychotropic.

I'm thinking that Laura has a little stash of food some place or has crawled off into one of the storage containers and has fallen asleep; possibly one of the ones on the second level. The barns have been searched as have all the houses, but here in the dark it wouldn't be that impossible for her to move from place to place unnoticed.

As badly as I feel for Tina and Dante', and as angry as I am at Laura and Tasha, I'm done writing about them tonight. The more I dwell on it the angrier I'm going to become and that's not healthy for me and not a constructive frame of mind to be in when the little … when Laura is found.

While we were out tooling around in the Avalanche Angus asked Scott and I what he could give Bekah for her birthday (it's the 16th) and I told him in all honesty that she'd really like him to finish up with his story of the bear hunt. Well he hummed and hawed and said that he'd give it to me to work on but that I'd need to go over it before it was given to Bekah.

I'll say it did need a little bit of "mom's touch." Angus writes sort of like I do; whatever is in his head is what makes it to paper. The thing is he is a man … a grown man. The story will definitely need a tad bit of "adjusting" before I want my little girl's eyes running over it. I think that is why Angus gave it to me first. But Angus is a hoot and the story as it is makes a great campfire story for adults. I'll just stick it in here in its original format just for my own pleasure.

His story certainly explains some of the points I missed. Dix wound up not going on any hunt. One, because his leg was still busted up and two, because after Angus took off by himself and the men had time to calm down, their "hurry up" kinda went away. I'm not surprised. An excess of testosterone has led to more than one fatality … at least this time the boys calmed down before doing something noble, but regrettable in the long run. All they did was search Sanctuary's immediate surroundings and didn't find anything but some scat and took a couple of vehicles and checked the attack site, but that's about as far as their search went.

* * *

 _Well I set up camp a little earlier than I would have liked, but it's a bit overcast today so dark came a little earlier than normal. I'm writing this all down because Bekah made me promise to. That girl has a way of persuasion about her, I don't know if there's anything she can't get if she wants it. She is definitely getting smarter too; I didn't even know I was going to go on this hunt. I was sitting at the kitchen eating with everyone else and listening to James talk about the third sighting of the big bear. We knew it was a grizzly bear, the descriptions left no doubt._

 _That and the fact that it had been seen three times close to sanctuary in the last little bit had me a little more concerned than the others. Having been a professional hunter (I hate that term, but I was paid to hunt so) I had knew some others that did it as well. One of them from Colorado had once told me about a problem grizzly and how it had gone from a few sightings to a man eater that had me wanting to keep an eye on this one._

 _Anyhow I had mumbled that the bear might have to be put down at some point and Bekah heard me. After lunch she had asked that if I had to go after the bear would I write down all about the hunt? She said that the last hunt I didn't give her a very good accounting. You see, Bekah is writing her own journal of things around here and though most of it was concerning the smaller things in sanctuary, it wouldn't hurt to have a few big things as well._

 _I don't know if she was just covering her bases or if she knew before I did that I was going to hunt that bear, but it's a little worry some. She can get whatever she wants from almost anyone, if she can read people like her mother can. That's a bad combination for any man she ever goes after when she grows up. He won't know what hit him. My reason for concern was that around the area of Sanctuary there's not a lot of wild food for an animal that size, normally meat is a small part of any bears diet. But around here there's not much wild food left out there, so meat would play a bigger role in its daily food._

 _Well my fear came to pass. Jim was out making a deal with someone from a small group south of us, he had gone out on one of the dirt bikes we have here (motorcycles) and met the man he was dealing with at some intersection. The other guy had come on horseback and they were discussing their deal when that grizzly came charging from behind some cars and slammed into the men. Jim said he only saw it for a second and then he bounced off of the truck he was standing next to._

 _When he opened his eyes he was laying face down in the street and didn't know how long he had been out. The other guy was gone, the horse was gone and it was very quiet. Jim said that there was a huge spray of blood all over the place and a wide bloody drag trail leading between two cars and across a small field. He said there was so much blood, that he could even see it going across the grass of the field._

 _Well Jim got on the bike and got back as fast as his blurry vision let him. That's when I knew I had to go out. There of course was a meeting, there's always a meeting around here. Normally I keep out of it unless I'm asked to be there. This time nobody had to ask. Everyone knew something had to be done._

 _That's where the bullshit started. Dix wanted to take most of the men and just cover the whole area, half the men wanted to go. The other half wanted to let them. Someone suggested letting the hunting dogs get the trail and hunt that way. (They're not bear dogs I tried to explain)_

 _I told them that if they go out with a lot of people that bear was going to run and disappear only to show up again latter. They wanted a hunt. Privately Dix and I got in an argument. He wanted me to go and couldn't understand why I wasn't. I told him I was going, just not with them, I told him again his hunt wouldn't work and he said it would._

 _No need to go into all that, he thought he was right, and I know I was. Ah but that man likes to argue, I thought he was going to take a swing at me. Because he was rising my blood pressure I almost hoped he would. Well I put together my stuff, and headed over to the library and got a Florida state map._

 _That boy Brandon looks ready to panic every time I walk in there. He didn't want me to take the big map out of there and tried to make a bunch of copy's that put together make a big map. That confused the hell out of me so I rolled up the map. He was a little less upset when I told him there was a pile of books at the fire station and he could have them._

 _I had less trouble at the horses because Samuel wasn't there. Sarah helped me saddle one of the horses and put the one pack saddle she had on another horse, and she stuffed two bags of grain for the horses into the pack horse's bag and I headed to the man cave to get my stuff. I could hear the men leaving from the front gate as I headed over. I loaded a breach loading .22 rifle in a rifle case and attached it to the pack horse and dropped in a box of 50 shells I had squirreled away for personal use. I took a backpack off the wall and stuffed two boxes of my 7.62 shells in, 40 rounds was all I was taking. I also dropped in a hand full of my cigars from my hidden stash and two canteens. It goes with saying that a couple of mre's went in to._

 _I took off the kilt and hug it on the wall and put on my carharts. I put on my work boots and was ready to start out. I stopped at the smokehouse and grabbed a hand full of smoked trout and put them in the backpack that was on my saddle horn. Carrying my Mauser I headed to the back gate. There was Bekah waiting for me and she had one of those mead composition books for me. She smiled up at me, and handed the book to me and said "you promised" with those fluttering eyes of hers. Yup, she's going to be trouble some day. So here I am at camp, not tired and having to just sit around._

 _Well, as I sit hear writing this I can't help but wonder if Bekah understands how hard it is to write by fire light? To be able to see what I'm putting on paper I have to sit dang close to the fire, and in this blasted hot state I don't need any more heat. I tell you I'm sweating more than a virgin on prom night. [Sissy's note: And exactly how would Angus know about being a virgin on prom night?!]_

 _As I write tonight I hope I'm wrong about this bear, I'll know tomorrow if I overreacted or not. Sissy had said that there are carnival people around, or used to be around the area, and that the bear might have come from there. If that's the case it would explain the size of the bear. (I haven't seen it yet)_

 _Jim had described a bear that could be 1,000 pounds, that's not your average zoo bear. Their diets don't allow that kind of growth. A carnival would feed the bear to get its best size to make better money. In the wild the average sized grizzly is said to be about 750 pounds. They do get bigger; it all depends on its food source. In the morning I'll head over to Jim's attack sight. The others would have got there before dark with plenty of time to start their hunt._

 _According to Jim, the bear dragged his friend in a westerly direction. I know when Dix gets there, he's going to follow the blood trail. If we're really lucky, they'll find the bear guarding it's kill at get it. If it was a black bear I would say that's a good bet._

 _If the grizzly hasn't tapped into its ancestral instincts, it's got a good chance. If it's started following its instincts or if it was a wild bear that was caught and brought here it's going to be a different story for them. Dix wants to chase the bear down with the dogs, again if it was a black bear this would work._

 _Even considering the dogs are not trained bear dogs, they'll follow the scent and sound the bear when they find it. The black bear will run only so far before it will tree. Even if it drops out of the tree when the men show up, they would be able to tree it again. The grizzly won't tree, they never tree. They weren't meant to climb, it will run at first. Then it will try to circle back around the hunters and dogs._

 _If there were less men in the group it would likely come up behind them and attack. Or just lay off the trail and wait for them to come back the way they came and then attack. You don't really hunt a grizzly, you chase it and then it hunts you._

 _I'm not worried about that with this one, there are too many in the group. The bear won't like that kind of situation. It's more likely to circle around and make a bee line in the opposite direction. If the bear does that I'll find the tracks and know what I'm dealing with. I hope I don't find anything and Dix and the boys get it there way._

 _Next day girly: In the morning I rode up out of the low spot I had made camp in. It's kinda hard to find low laying places in Florida that are dry enough for a camp, the one I found last night was at an intersection and was lower than the roads themselves by about 10 feet. If I have to spend the night outside I don't want my fire attracting zombies or anyone else. With the fire lower than the rest of the area, there's less chance of its glow being seen._

 _I don't know the roads I'm at because there are no signs here. All the cars in this intersection are burned out husks and there's no sign at the intersection. According to Jim the cross road I was at was the one that I needed to head up. I didn't see any zombies yesterday when I was coming out, and I didn't see any in the morning either. Odd considering that there local numbers have been growing lately._

 _It took me close to an hour to get to the attack sight because I wasn't pushing the horses. I had no trouble knowing that I had found it. The area between a blue caddy and a small panel truck was just brownish red from the blood._

 _I could see that the back of the truck at jimmy's head height had a dent in it the size of Jim's head. It's surprising the blow didn't kill him. Aussies must have thick skulls._

 _I tied the horses to the road side guard rail and checked the scene a little closer. According to Jim, the bear came from his right. I found where the bear came up on the road, and you could even see claw marks in the assault where it was running at the men. Just a few feet away from where it came up on the road is the blood trail of it dragging it's victim back down to the field from which it came. South._

 _I climbed on top of the truck's roof, and using my rifle scope I have for this sort of thing I checked all around the area. Nothing. No bear and no hunting party. I could see from up here where the trucks Dix took had headed into the tree line on the other side of the clearing from me, but no tracks coming back out. They're either still out there or they left a different way._

 _I climbed down and started walking up the road checking for tracks coming back up onto the road. Off the south of the road it drops down about 3 feet lower than the road, to the north of the road it's pretty much level. That kinda sums up Florida, level or lower than level. I miss the mountains._

 _I was walking up the road trying to see if I could locate if the bear came back to the road, if it did I was hoping to see some disturbance in the little incline leading onto the road. I did find where the bear came back onto the road, but not because of any faint track or mysterious hunting skill. I stepped in bear shit._

 _I'm staring at the ground but not where I was stepping. There was no doubt it was bear shit, anyone who ever seen bear shit knows bear shit when they step in it. So the bear doubled back, and no sign of the hunting party following it. That's what I feared, a smart bear._

 _The sign I was able to find on the north area around the road showed the bear going at a nice clip strait north. Dix and the boys must have really spooked it. I got the horses and headed north; going through the grassy areas was easy going. Going through developed areas was a little harder. It wasn't till lunch that the bear showed signs that it had slowed down. Then the trail started to be a little more haphazard._

 _It would go this way and that, following its nose I'm sure. I had to tie up the horses at one house because it looked like the bear went inside. It wasn't there when I went in but I could see where it made its rounds in the kitchen. It took another ten minutes for me to find its trail again, but it was still heading north._

 _So far I have been riding at a pretty slow walk for the horses, I was in no real hurry, I was hoping to keep the bear from knowing that I was following it. As it was getting on to late afternoon I thought I would take advantage of the area I was in. There where houses up the length I was headed and there where trees on both sides of the road so I tied up the horses where they could graze on the grass of one of the front yards of a house, and I got the .22 out and headed a little farther up the road._

 _I missed the first squirrel that showed its self, I wasn't expecting it yet. I followed its general direction and saw one in a tree across the street. That one was an easy head shot. After picking that one up I headed back across the street to the rows of homes and around the back of the first house I came to. In the back yard there where two squirrels digging around an old garden. I shot the one closest to me but the other ran for it. I followed the running squirrel's path and found it clinging upside down on a small little tree on the side of the house. Before it could decide what to do I got him too._

 _Walking back to where I shot the first squirrel I just stood there listening and watching, and there I saw another one on a roof across the street. It was on the edge of the house or I wouldn't have shot at it. Didn't want to have to climb up and get it._

 _Now I had four squirrels, enough for dinner so I walked over to the horses and put the squirrels in the backpack on the saddle horn and mounted up. As I was turning the horses north I froze, and brought the .22 to the ready. (I didn't put the .22 away and get the Mauser out of the rifle case.)_

 _Across the street on the side with no houses I saw a zombie walking the other direction. I could have sworn when I first caught a glimpse of it, it was looking in my direction. Was I wrong? Didn't it see me at all? I don't know how it didn't see me, but it was shambling in the other direction so I left. Switching rifles as I went._

 _Two hours later I was still on, or I should say behind old bowing green road. (I saw a sign) The houses had stopped a while back but I was at a building that used to be a roofing company. Across the way I could see some railroad tracks and that's the way the bear had gone. I was going to stop here at the roofing company building for the night._

 _I was able to get the horses inside after letting them graze for a while. I used some furnished and old skids to make a fire to cook my squirrels in front of the old loading bay. After I had started the fire, and was skinning the squirrels I got company._

 _I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Without making any fast movements I slowly turned my head and saw a little dog sitting 10 yards out watching me. I looked around to see if there was a pack of them, but it was just him._

 _Remembering Sissy's instructions on manners I introduced myself to my visitor. He didn't respond in turn. After skinning my supper, I removed the little hearts, lungs and kidneys and set them close to the fire to brown. The rest of them, including the skins I wrapped in a rag that was there and tossed on top of a shelf. Let the rats have that shit._

 _As I was starting my first squirrel I started to toss the hearts over to the little dog. It looked to be a cross of some type of terrier and some kind of Border collie. It was about the size Kitty weighs. And it had a curly brown coat. It looked like it was missing some of that coat around the left side of its head. Could be something like mange or just had it chewed off from a fight. He was too far away to be sure._

 _Next day girly: In the morning I had a late start. After getting up and going over the horses and getting them packed up, I looked out the little window in the door to make sure all was clear. It wasn't. There was a group of close to 40 shamblers going by. The horses acted like they didn't know they were out there, and that was fine with me. I guess with the doors closed the horses couldn't get there scent._

 _I remembered the dog, but didn't see him out there any place. Smart dog. At the speed the dead were walking I figured that waiting a good 45 minutes should have them far enough away for me to leave unnoticed. I did take note that the dead were traveling south east, that's close to sanctuary._

 _After taking a man sized dump in the non-working toilet (my bad) I spent my time looking around the building. I had checked it for safety yesterday but not for goodies. With just the two horses there wasn't really anything I could take with me even if I did find something, but I'm nosey so I looked anyway. I had the time to waste._

 _There was nothing at all in the building that was even interesting. I did find a little wind up music box in a secretary's drawer, I didn't recognize the tune, but I thought it might be something to help Kitty go to sleep if she was having any trouble. I put it in my backpack._

 _When I left I headed across the way to the railroad tracks. The bear had started to follow the tracks, so did I. After a half hour I noticed a road to my right, the tracks where going in the same direction. I veered over to the road because I saw a sign. It said Charleston Ave. It ran north and south, I also saw a sign on the north side that said RT. 17 and one farther south that said RT. 35. How the hell anybody ever found their way around this state I'll never know._

 _I only took note of it for Bekah and her journal. Once I was back following the tracks I came to a spot where the bear had walked off about 20 yards and dug up an area close to 10 feet in diameter. I couldn't tell what the bear had been after but it headed right back on its bruit after._

 _I decided to stop for lunch right there. Mostly because I wanted to look at my map and see where I was. Those road signs had me all confused and I couldn't stop thinking about it. Looking at the map I could see that up ahead I would hit and pass Fort Meade if the bear keep going. I also noticed that the tracks go right with my strange road all the way. There was something about all this information I wasn't putting together._

 _Before I could ponder it any more that dog walked out of the tall grass to my left and sat down looking at me. That's when the point hit me. The wind was blowing almost strait south, if I got in front of the bear now, before it got to Fort Meade but stayed well off to its flank I could get a chance at a shot. "Good doggie "_

 _I shared my smoked fish lunch with the dog. He didn't seem to have a problem with getting close this time. He came right up to me begging for a share. He took it nice from my hand and let me pet him on the head. Maybe I can re-domesticate him before I get back and give him to one of the kids?_

 _After eating it was time for the horses to make some speed. I crossed over the road and staying a good 50 yards out I headed north at a good gallop. Well I think it was a gallop, we were going fast just not running. 30 minutes later I stopped the horses and tied them to some kind of pipe sticking out of the ground and headed towards the road. I told the dog to stay, that didn't work._

 _I set myself up close to the tracks and behind some kind of shack. I was watching the tracks waiting for the bear to come waddling towards me when that dog started barking. I couldn't see him, but it sounded like it was in the direction of the horses. I leaned out farther but still couldn't see the bear. That's when I heard the horses start screaming._

 _I ran back to the road, and when I could see past the cars that's where on the road I saw the horses trying to pull free and the bear 20 yards away from them trying to swat at the barking dog that was trying to get behind it and bite his ass. I couldn't believe it. That dog from my distance (50 yards) looked like he was the size of this thing's foot._

 _It was a big bear, this was the first I had seen it. It looked less than 1,000 pounds but more than 600. It wasn't happy about that dog. It kept trying to charge but the dog was always almost behind it. The dog running almost in circles and the bear spinning and lunging. I couldn't get a shot._

 _The horses had finally pulled free and took off east at a good run. I thought I was going to be walking home._

 _The bear had stopped for a moment when the horses had taken off, and that gave me a broad side shot and I took it. I tried to place it just behind the shoulders, but with bears it's hard to tell where the shoulders stop. If I hit the shoulder bone the bear might get away. NOT good._

 _At the shot the bear took off at a run. Here is where I had forgotten something important about bear hunting. It doesn't matter where the sound of the shot comes from, a bear will always run in the opposite direction of the pain it feels. A 7.62 round makes a nice hole going in; coming out the other side it makes a slightly larger and more painful hole._

 _That bear was running very fast in my direction, and right behind it was running a barking dog trying to bite it in the ass. I was standing there with my mouth wide open and I'm sure eyes bugging out, and all I could do was think you asshole, you should have remembered that." That's when the bear ate me._

 _HA Ha Bekah, I got you for a second didn't I? The bear just dropped short of my dinner bell. The dog pounced on it and went to town. I didn't have the heart to tell him it was dead, so I let him at it for a second or two, and then called him off. The dog just sat there staring at me with a look that said "look what I did. I saved you."_

 _I named him Scrappy. Any dog that attacks a grizzly bear of that size and has fun doing it has got to be named scrappy. I stripped off a section of back strap and me and the dog headed down the road to where the horses where grazing like 200 yards down. The end._

* * *

The end … yeah, right. When I read the part about how close the bear had come to getting Angus I nearly took off after Angus like Scrappy had taken off after that bear. I chewed his rear bumper pretty good. It's one of the reasons why I stayed in the truck bed, to work off my mully grumps. All I could think of was that blasted docu-movie about that guy that had … what was his name … Treadwell? … that had this thing for bears and it wound up getting him and his female friend eaten. Nasty.

Wait, I just heard the dogs start barking and Dix's whistle. I hope they found Laura.


	156. Day 196

I want to thank everyone for their patience. I was traveling and the internet connection I had was barely enough to keep in touch with family but not enough for regular web surfing. So without further delay, and another thanks of appreciation for those that have hung on, here is the next installment.

* * *

 **Day 196 (Monday) – February 12th**

Lord have mercy! I think everyone in Sanctuary has been walking around like shamblers today. They found Laura hiding and three-quarters asleep in one of the last storage containers they had inspected. It was full of things we had so many duplicates of we hadn't gotten around to inventorying or finding a place to put them. In the back corner she had made, well something like a playhouse I guess you could call it. Dix said it flat out looked like a bug out location to him. There was food and bottled water in there and evidence that she had already used the place a few times.

Taking her back to her house and trying to leave her with Tina and Dante' for the night turned out to be not so great an idea. She was complacent and apparently fine until the men left and then she turned on her parents and little brother and started throwing things around, breaking windows and mirrors. It brought everyone back on the run and in the end Waleski had to create a makeshift straight jacket out of an oversized coat and then used duct tape to secure it on her and to tape her legs together to keep her from kicking everyone that came near her.

They are trying not to give her any drugs until it can be determined whether she is really pregnant but I don't know if they are really going to be able to given how destructive she was until she was physically restrained.

Scott and I spent several hours today over there helping to pick up and repair the damage. I wasn't sure whether that was a good idea or not but Scott insisted saying that we have to prove that we weren't going to hold this against them. Turns out he was half right. Dante' just couldn't stand to have us around and still holds us some at fault for what happened. I had refused to let the kids play or be around Laura because of how she acted but I still feel that I was … and am … within my rights as a mother to have made that choice. I don't think having my kids as "playmates" would have alleviated Laura's problems. Tina on the other hand just fell into my arms and started crying and crying saying she doesn't know what she's going to do. The very thought of being in their shoes makes me nauseous.

Rose and Melody have been working with Waleski all day trying to figure out what they can possibly do with and for Laura. They've had the Physician's Desk Reference (PDR) out trying to find any kind of sedatives and psychotropics that don't cross the placental barrier or have risks of birth defects. They haven't found anything so far that sounds like something that will work or that they could find.

Dix, Matlock, and a few others like Kevin and Betty, have been trying to determine some plan of action to present to the Council. We've got issues of "crime and punishment" but we also look like we have to take into some understanding the ability to recognize accountability. For instance, Tasha is certainly accountable for her actions and words and knows and understands that. She's still blaming Laura for most of it but there is an understanding there that she is still accountable for some of it.

Laura on the other hand … whoo boy. I worked in a support position at a mental health facility for nearly ten years, back when Scott and I were first married and before my Sarah came along. I wasn't clinical staff – I worked in the education and training division – but you can't help but hear and absorb things in that length of time. In my admittedly untrained opinion, Laura has at a bare minimum some type of personality disorder. She certainly has problems with impulse control. If she is really pregnant then she may also be experiencing some hormonal imbalance which is not unheard of in girls that get pregnant at a very young age. Tina said she hadn't even had her monthly cycle a full year yet.

Laura is also manipulative and a liar. She knows the difference between right and wrong, it's just that her definition of right and wrong are skewed in her favor. What I mean is that when she was caught out last night, some of the upset she exhibited was more anger because she got caught that any real fear of consequences of doing something wrong in the first place. I'm also concerned that she may be intentionally making herself appear worse, or more pitiable, to make people feel sorry for her and therefore make the consequences nil or small compared to what they would be if she was fully cognizant.

The question is with all of that is Laura really accountable for understanding what she has done. She's barely 13 years old. She has some kind of mental or possibly hormonal issue going on. It's likely that some of it may even be hereditary.

Complicating things further is the apocalyptic environment we are living on a day-to-day basis, the size of our community, and our lack of being able to help Laura (and Tina and Dante') like would have happened before NRS brought the world to its knees.

It brings to mind the stories of the mental illness that appeared around New Orleans in the wake of the hurricane Katrina disaster. Did you blame the person or the disaster? Were the problems pre-existing and just got exacerbated by the disaster? Most importantly though was how were the sufferers and their families needs being met and how responsible was society to do it?

I mean, look at the people we are calling the "filthies." Those people have to be suffering from some clinically debilitating mental illness to live like that when there are other options. I don't know of any other survivor group that has descended to that level. But, do I want them for neighbors? Would I forcefully defend myself against them? You betcha. And without remorse too.

But Laura is one of ours. So are her parents. And, technically anyway, she is a child. I fear we may have to return to the old days of chaining clinically insane people up to prevent them from being a danger to themselves or others. That's frightening. I think of my own mother who needed anti-depression meds to function. What would have happened to her and my dad had they survived?

But then that heads right back into the question is Laura insane? Really insane where she isn't accountable for her actions? It's not so much that Tasha and Laura committed any huge crime. No physical harm was done to anyone, though who knows how far it would have gone had it not been caught. But in this day and age that we now find ourselves living, your reputation may be one of your main survival tools. A good reputation and you have good neighbors willing to lend a hand if you need it. A good reputation and you have no problems with trade agreements. A good reputation and people will feel freer to share information with you. A bad reputation, deserved or not, can take all of that away … and maybe get you turned out of a community or group that you'd come to depend on. It might also get a bullet put in your head or vigilante "justice" visited upon you in various ways.

Scott and our family (and from the sound of it other members of Sanctuary) were ready to split over this issue. Our community has got to come up with some safety measures that we can all count on; a system of justice as it were. We might even need to have a Constitution of sorts or at least a written affirmation of what we all generally believe that our community's principles are based upon. I don't think any of us want to go around telling other people in Sanctuary how to run their lives and what they can and cannot believe in. That's not what I mean by principles. Scott and I are firm believers in live and let live. But when there is a situation like we are encountering today, we need some absolutes as a framework. These absolutes need to be simple and straight forward. No legalese. No highbrow jargon that someone can change the interpretation of down the road.

Knowing all of that though still doesn't change today. What are we going to do with Tasha and Laura? Tasha's "crime" if you want to call it that was mostly one of stupidity in my opinion. Rather than taking Laura's stories to another adult for verification she got led around by a messed up 13 year old. She's old enough to know better.

Tasha apparently has not been happy living in Sanctuary. She doesn't like being expected to go on gathering runs or being assigned chores and duties. She feels if she volunteers that is one thing but to have them forced on her is wrong. I guess she is still carrying a grudge against the pirates and transferred her feelings from that situation to this one.

When she made that particular comparison Matlock finally let some of his anger show and said fine, we'd supply her with some food and a little bit of gear and she could leave if that's really what she wanted. No one had been holding her captive. Then she started whining that she had no place to go. So he told her to shut up and just deal with it until she did have someplace else to go. And until she does go, if she goes, she is going to be on double duty for the next two weeks. That means twice the KP duty, twice the kitchen duty, twice the mucking duty, etc. And she'll be strictly supervised as well. Its not the perfect solution but it was the best that could be agreed upon. There were a few that said exile her. Don't know that even I would have gone that far but then Scott and I didn't take part in the final disposition of punishment. We just need some distance to regain our objectivity when it comes to what she did.

Laura has remained under strict confinement all day today. Although towards the end of the day her "act" started becoming a little thin. She'd contradict herself and then deny it. She's also just plain tired out from all the fighting, physical and mental. Waleski still hasn't examined her to check for a pregnancy; he's just not comfortable doing so after her accusations. I can't blame him. Betty said that she and a couple of the other women would handle it, but not until after Laura stopped behaving so violently.

Dealing with Laura and Tasha isn't all that any of us did today. I was really concerned about our kids, especially Sarah who was mortified and confused about what she was supposedly doing with Samuel. Sarah isn't stupid, and we've had the birds and bees talk, but how it applies directly to her I think still eludes her a bit. She's physically mature for her age, but mentally she is still a little girl for the most part. Samuel is a "friend" not a "boyfriend."

Charlene, bless her, helped me keep the younger set occupied with washing clothes and I gave her some craft supplies and the kids decorated t-shirts for themselves. While that was going on, Scott and I took Sarah aside and let her talk it out – and cry which made Scott angry all over again.

I was having a bit of a girl question session with Sarah when Scott comes back with Dix and Samuel in tow. Scott had asked, and gotten permission, to take Samuel and Sarah with him to go see Angus at the fire station. They were going to take the plants I had potted up over there for Angus to put together a roof top garden. I guess Samuel was as bad off as Sarah was because he's eyes were a little red too. Scott and Dix shook hands so I guess they had come up with the solution to get the kids together.

I still don't get what is up with Matlock and Becky. Why are they so distant? Nearly everyone else has come around to say something about what has been going on. Not Becky or Matlock which is bothering me even if it doesn't bother Scott. Maybe it's a guy thing and I'm taking it too personally.

The only other thing of any substance that I've accomplished today was to get the preparations for Commitment Day under way. It made Melody cry. I asked her for goodness sake why was she crying and she said because she thought C-Day was going to have to be postponed and she and Cease really want to be together.

Ah youth. Man, there are days when I just feel old. I mentioned it to Scott after we got home for a desultory dinner where everyone was practically falling asleep in their plates and he just winked and pinched my behind. OK, so maybe I don't feel quite so old as I did. He has that effect on me.

Today was mostly just gathering and planning all the dishes we've agreed to fix. We picked the hog out that we are going to cull and roast and fenced it off from the others. We also started some soft cheeses and I've put some #10 cans of fruit in the cooler … what a Godsend that thing is. The ice maker is working and we'll definitely have enough for making ice cream. Wish we could find an old crank machine for the ice cream but it'll give the kids something to do to make the kick-the-can ice cream.

Tomorrow I'll bake the sheet cakes and make the icing and if there is time I'll even decorate the cake and we'll put it on the table we have put into the cooler. I knew that experience working in a grocery store bakery when I was in college would come in handy some day, even though it is one of the few jobs I can say I honestly disliked.

Some bottles of wine also went into the cooler today as did the metal bowls that I'm going to need to make the meringues with on Wednesday.

Got word from OSAG that they had sighted a group of shamblers coming down from our way. We didn't catch a glimpse of them because everyone pretty much stayed within the Walls. They must have come straight down Bruce B. Downs Blvd or one of the other north-south roadways. They also warned us that the peddlers had mentioned coming back our way. Hopefully Laura won't get wind of that and cause more trouble.

The plan tomorrow is to try and get back on schedule. McElroy is taking a small crew and they are going to go grab that landscaping stuff and the stuff from the garden center and check just a couple of places on Van Dyke Rd and then come back in. After that is accomplished, barring any exceptional finds, the gathering runs will likely go back down to one or two days a week.

Scott said he's found us a bug out location. I hadn't thought he would do it so quickly but once Scott gets something in his head he likes to get it done.

Over near the church where the fishing ponds are, not too far from where the New Geraci folks tried to set up, there are some really expensive homes. Each one has a minimum of acre lot and many of them back up to a lake or pond. Most of them are trashed. They were expensive homes but not really built to be fortresses, too much glass, too many doors and window, etc. But, there is this one house that sets off from the rest. It only got about three-quarter finished before the buyer or builder ran out of money. The house is completely dried in and is in this Mediterranean style with lots of block and stucco. On the outside the house looks fine if you overlook the metal shutters and wood that has been screwed over most of the windows and doors. Inside though, and I know which house he is talking about because I was part of a gathering run that had cleared that area, is another story. No carpet or flooring, the bathrooms were never finished, the kitchen had plumbing but it had never been hooked up and most of the cabinets were missing their fronts. The stairs were finished but there was no handrail. No AC or electrical hook ups either. And there was some drywall damage from vandalism that was likely from before the NRS quarantine.

None of the unfinished interior really meant anything to us anymore. What the place did have was three fireplaces, a huge walk-in pantry with a wine closet, lots of space (it had to have been about 5,000 square feet), and a Spanish tiled roof that would be great for water catching. It also had one of those fancy wrought iron fences around three sides of the property and a sturdy gate that slid open rather than used hinges.

The blackberries were already taking over the fence line and Scott and I plan to transplant some old fashioned climbing roses that will yield me rose hips during the right season. We plan on telling Angus where the place is but we haven't figured out yet if we're going to tell anyone else. Maybe Jim and Cease (because of Melody) and possibly Glenn and Saen. Right now we are keeping it to ourselves. David and James know but Rose and the younger girls don't. Charlene knows something is up and only asked that we not leave her and her littles behind if we leave.

We don't plan on leaving. But, we didn't plan on NRS happening or plan on having to deal with a situation like Laura has us in. Better to be safe than sorry. And who knows, maybe one day Scott and I will simply retire there when and if Sanctuary is no longer needed. You never know.


	157. Day 197

**Day 197 (Tuesday) – February 13th**

You know, it would be nice to be able to make it through one day without some drama, but at least half of our recent problem seems to have resolved itself to the relief, if not satisfaction, of everyone concerned. Sort of anyway.

I hadn't been feeling too well. Stress always settles right into my stomach. I also never seem to be able to catch up on my rest for any length of time. If I start feeling achy I'll have to fess up to Ski that I've been over doing it again and then listen to one of his lectures while he gives me a shot of whatever it was he gave me last time that put me back to rights.

I know I'm not looking my best after what has happened but I didn't know it was so obvious. When I went over to the chicken coop before breakfast Mr. Morris, after taking a look at my face, asked me if I was feeling broody. Lord help, that's the last thing Scott and I need right now. I'd go purely nuts.

When I told Scott he got a rather comically panicked look on his face and said, "But you can't. You wouldn't. You're not are you? The doctors … " I told him no and besides the obvious fact that I told the docs to cut 'em, tie 'em, burn 'em and shut the factory down I'm not late or anything else. Scott and I love kids but the idea of me being the one pregnant again … nope, not good, and not going to happen.

I think Mr. Morris was just joking but I wouldn't be surprised at my age if maybe all the stress was sending me a little early into a premenopausal state. I'm 42. My cousin was pretty young when it happened to her. I might as well just accept the possibility and move on. I just hope those "hot flashes" I've heard about don't hit me during the summer. I'll probably wind up skinning someone alive if they do. I've heard it can be like PMS on steroids for some women. I told Scott that and he looked ready to bug out.

Just to be on the safe side I asked Melody and Rose to look through the supplies and see if there was any morning primrose capsules or tea and I'm going to check my herbals and see if I can find some other teas and such that would help alleviate any of that. And if I can find a private moment I need to talk to Betty too. She's a little older than I am so maybe she's got some idea of how this all will go down.

We had a huge stew planned for lunch so breakfast was more along the lines of a Spanish El Desayuno than a traditional American breakfast. We had large pots of strong coffee and cream if anyone wanted café con leche, pots of rich hot chocolate for the kids, and platters of churros, doughnuts, and sweet rolls.

After breakfast I quickly went back home and started on the large basket of mending that had to be done. All the kids needed their pants let down or re-hemmed. There were lots of socks that needed to be darned. I also mended rips in underclothes and tried to fashion a training bra for Bekah that she would actually wear. She appears to be developing early just like her two older sisters. Poor kid. She's still just enough of a tomboy that she is going to hate this whole process. That's what she gets for being born a girl though. Now if I can just keep Johnnie and Bubby from asking embarrassing questions or making pointed comments.

And all of this hormonal stuff leads me back around to all the drama of today.

About mid-morning the peddlers showed up as was anticipated. Again we met them outside the Wall and didn't offer them any hospitality. That might have been rude in some cultures but until we get to know the individuals in that group a little more there is no way they are coming in. Of course, that won't make a hill of beans of difference now. They'll still know what we've got up to a certain point.

This time the peddlers did have something we needed. Something I wanted badly. I don't know where they had gotten them, possibly the old Ball manufacturing plant over near Busch Gardens. The place has been abandoned for years but that doesn't mean that there wasn't something tucked away that was forgotten about. It was three full cases of canning jar lids; not the screw bands but the lids that I was quickly running out of. Pre-NRS I paid about a buck a dozen for those lids. Now I probably couldn't buy them for any cash price. But, we could trade for them.

Each case had 720 lids in them, or 60 of those little boxes that had 12 lids each. At three cases that was over 2000 lids. None of them were for wide mouth jars but I wasn't going to throw a fit over that. The question was what they were going to ask for trade.

I think most of the men were afraid they were going to ask for ammo or weapons. Nope, apparently they wanted a couple of pigs and a couple of hens. It was Mr. Morris that convinced Matlock and Dix to agree to the trade. We've been doing OK hunting and we would eventually need to cull some of the livestock anyway 'cause the feed wouldn't last forever.

So the trade was made and the other women and I were nearly dancing. Between my jars and the jars we have found, and now these lids, we have the ability to can a lot of our harvest for a year or two anyway. After that we'll have to see how many lids we can scrounge up or go totally into alternative preservation methods. Or hope maybe someone someplace starts one of those manufacturing plant back up.

The deal was sealed with some of Angus' best hooch. The reason Angus offered his hooch was apparently as incentive for the peddlers/traders to find a knife sharpening wheel and/or a grinding wheel for a bench grinder. A whet stone is all well and good for putting an edge on knives but some of the bigger blades and farm implements would have a better edge if we could get one of those wheels set up. I remember my grandfather having a pedal powered one and a whole slew of files that he would use on his farm equipment. Now I wished I had paid more attention and not taken so much for granted growing up. It's just so easy to fall into that trap of "they're always going to be there." Well they're not and we have to learn things the hard way these days.

Right as the peddlers were pulling up stakes to move out, Tasha runs up and asks if she can join them. For the life of me I don't know what I would have said if I'd needed to say anything. There was some argument from our side trying to get Tasha to rethink what she was doing. Strangely it was Cindy that said let her go, that she was going to do what she wanted to do in the end anyway.

At the time I thought it was because she was making a comment on Tasha's personality from where they had known each other the longest. Apparently that wasn't it at all. After Tasha had packed her gear and gone Cindy explained it was actually her years of volunteering with the homeless coalition that gave her the insight. She said you can only do so much for people. At some point you have got to let them make their own choices. If you make all the decisions for them and try to force them to choose your way, in the end you'll always fail and only force the other person to fight things harder. Their way might not be your way, but people have to be given the right to choose.

I suppose that's true. Scott and I have learned to pick our battles with the kids and that sometimes pushing too hard can have the opposite effect that we want. The peddler group said they'd take good care of her as long as she wanted to stay with them and that they'd be back around in a few weeks and we'd be able to see for ourselves. I guess. I'm still not totally comfortable with what happened but on the other hand she is free and over 18. We can't force her to stay if she is totally set on going.

Laura had another ginormous fit when Dante' mentioned that the peddlers had come and gone and Tasha with them. Less said about that the better for now. He had given into her and taken the restraints off of her and she ran as soon as she heard the peddlers leaving. I think Dante' is trying to deal with some guilt 'cause he feels like it's his fault that his daughter is like his sister was. I'm not sure that's any healthier than denying any responsibility at all would be. Better to accept the reality and move on to constructively dealing with the way things are than regretting how they'll never be.

It was a mess trying to catch her and put the restraints back on her. And Tina and Dante' had a very public blow up with Tina wanting to know why on earth he had taken the restraints off in the first place and him screaming back because she was his daughter even if Tina had forgotten that point. If I didn't feel so bad for them I would hate this feeling like I'm living in the middle of a soap opera. I feel like a voyeur.

After that brouhaha was over we all had lunch and then most of the women went on finishing the preparations for tomorrow. Rose, Sarah, and Bekah put a last few finishing touches on the dress I reworked for Melody. Charlene helped me bake the sheet cakes and get them decorated. That took a couple of hours. While they baked I boiled eggs so that I could fix up a platter of dressed eggs for tomorrow.

Charlene looked at me funny when I called them "dressed eggs." I laughed and told her most people probably called them "deviled eggs" but that most of the folks where I grew up called them "dressed" to avoid using the term devil. You boil the eggs then cut them in half lengthwise. You dump the yolks in one bowl and put the whites on a platter. You mash the yolks up really well and then add mayonnaise or miracle whip, a little vinegar, and a little sugar and then whip it all together into something that looks like a yellow frosting. You fill the egg whites with this filling and ta da … dressed (or deviled) eggs. Some people add olives or pickles to the filling. My family only sprinkled a little paprika for coloring to the top of the eggs. In the morning all the goodies should be nice and cool so I'll make up several relish trays for people to munch on too.

After the sheet cakes were out of the oven and cooling on racks I made what felt like leventy-dozen cheese crackers using a standard cracker recipe and some of the powdered cheese that we had in our long term storage supplies. Not bad if I do say so myself. The crackers will go well with the various soft cheeses and dips that we made up. There is also a huge bowl of tropical fruit salad in a punch bowl.

Tomorrow early I'll also make some fruit pillows, a type of finger food, using some dried fruit and a few other odds and ends. And I'll pickle some beets and green beans for a vegetable tray.

While many of us were working on preparing for C-Day, most everyone else was working on the rear gate house. I think that was Matlock's way to see if Scott was truly serious about staying in Sanctuary; to see whether he would do the work or if he would pass it off on someone else.

After a dinner of the leftover stew served with over egg noodles with some of the cheese crackers that I had made, Scott and I got a visit from Matlock and Becky.

I had just finished getting most of the kids settled down for the night. Everyone was still dragging after the nearly sleepless night from the day before. And, today had been rather full and hectic as well. James said goodbye on his way to guard duty on the Wall and Cease, David, Melody, and Rose were going for a walk around the compound. Charlene was tactful enough to excuse herself and went to go read in another part of the house while the adults sat on the lanai.

Before anyone said anything Matlock looked at Becky and she started out with an apology. Apparently Becky had been listening to some of the things that Tina said and thought we were being too hard on Laura. I wanted to say but we never did the things that Laura said we did but I didn't need to. Matlock said he had blown it off because he thought it was just a squabble between kids. He hadn't realized how deep the problems would turn out running.

Well, that explains more than it doesn't. I guess things are back to OK between us and them. To be honest I thought Matlock would have known us better than that. But, he did say he thought it was just a squabble amongst the kids. I don't think any of us could have predicted where this was heading when it started. If I can't stay mad at Tina and Dante' I guess I can't stay upset with Matt and Becky. Time will heal the wounds I hope.

I asked how Becky was feeling and we commiserated on the awfulness of morning sickness. Scott and Matt shook hands, we talked a little more, and then they said they needed to get back to the kids. Jenny is much better than she was when Matlock first brought her to us, but she is still a skittish and quiet little girl. This thing with Laura probably didn't do her any good. I wonder how much Bo's family upset is affecting Tommy. The two boys are very tight and do almost everything together.

Scott is sending me to bed early if you can believe it. I guess Mr. Morris isn't the only one that has noted that I'm not at my best. Last thing I need right now is to get sick. There is too much to do. It feels like things are moving towards some awful climax that is getting closer faster than I want it to.


	158. Day 198

**Day 198 (Wednesday) – February 14th - COMMITMENT CEREMONY DAY**

What a full day we've had. Despite some early morning haziness the day turned out to be gorgeous. One of the patently perfect Florida spring days. Low humidity. Low bug count. Not too cold, not too hot. Lapis lazuli colored sky.

There was a scramble to get up and moving. All the gals that were getting hitched … or committed … met at Patricia and Jack's place. Let's see … there was Patricia of course, Melody, Rhonda, and Rilla. The Morris family was beside itself with having a double. Rhonda wasn't technically related but they looked at her like their child the same way I saw Melody.

The kids were squirrely at breakfast, probably partially my own fault because I made trail mix breakfast bars to tide everyone over until the big feast. After a while though I'd finally had enough of it and told them to go find something constructive to do or I'd find something for them to do. Of course they lit out of there like their tails were on fire. Mother Hen is rather notorious for finding work for empty little hands when things get too loud.

While some people tended the pork that had been cooking since before daybreak others ran around doing morning chores. The cows still need milking, the livestock still needs feeding, and the batteries still need charging whether there is a party going on or not. The Walls also need guarding though I admit we didn't have as many people on that duty as we normally do.

While everyone was hustling around Saen and I finished up our last few surprises. She and I had been doing our best with the greenhouses. We managed to get her seeds started and luckily most of them seem to be doing well. There was just enough room in one of the greenhouses that we decided to plant a few trays of mesclun greens and some "baby" varieties of carrots and radishes.

There was just enough that was ready for picking that we managed to put together a nice fresh salad and then Saen made this bodacious coconut rice dish. The smell alone was almost more temptation than I could stand not to sneak an early taste.

We weren't the only ones that had a surprise for everyone. Betty and Reba fixed nearly a dozen lattice-topped pies for those that weren't cake eaters. And I don't know where he found them but Angus came up with some of those chocolate covered candy sticks for the kids if they were good.

After morning chores were over with everyone went to the trouble of dressing up to one degree or another. It was a little strange to see some of the guys dressed in tuxedos. Scott was in one of his suits and ties from when he worked at the bank. I had to tailor the pants but the jacket wasn't too bad. With all the heavy lifting he has done over the last few months his shoulders have broadened up and made up for the weight he's lost.

Angus wore his dress kilt with a tuxedo jacket. Everyone was a little uncomfortable in their dressier state after wearing coveralls, grungy jeans, and work clothes for weeks on end. But personally I think it was worth it. You gotta do something to mark a day like this special. All four of the women were beautiful.

Melody was so young and had fallen in love with a white dress that had lace butterflies on sheer netting as an overdress. I added some pearl beading and sequins to dress it up a little more and then made a simple veil with more netting and silk flowers to match.

Rilla chose an ivory dress and the women in her family had embroidered lace and flowers on it as well. Her veil had matching lace to edge it. Rhonda's and Patricia's dresses were champagne colored and empire-waisted to accommodate their obviously pregnant figures; Rhonda's floor length like Rilla and Melody while Patricia's was a tea length gown reminiscent of something you would have seen from the 20s or 30s. Neither Rhonda nor Patricia had wanted a veil. Instead they wore simple hats with some pear tipped hat pins to hold some netting in place.

The women were ready to walk down the aisle when the Wall guards sounded the alarm.

There was an extended cab truck trying to evade a horde that numbered about seventy-five. If they had all been shamblers they would have easily avoided them but there were a bunch of runners and ragers mixed in slowing the truck's progress. In this instance our road blocks were creating a problem, not preventing them. What worked with raiders obviously wasn't necessarily a good strategy for escaping zombies.

James, already on the Wall, called down to Dix that it was one of the OSAG vehicles. With men on the gate to let them in, the rest of our people gave them cover fire and tried to take out the more persistent Runners and Ragers that seemed to be instigating the feeding frenzy in the horde. The shamblers would lose interest after a while with no sensory input to draw their attention.

The vehicle did indeed belong to OSAG. Unlike his parents, my kid has great eyes in both daylight and dark. Steve with Shorty driving shotgun had been out with Jon and Len on some recon … no guesses on my part. I try and not pry anymore than I would people to pry into my business. And as far as any of their actions, they've proven legit and have a good reputation. Why mess that up by messing with people?

Since the OSAG people weren't going any place until the zombies cleared out we invited them to stay for the festivities which we started back up after I finished getting the gun oil off of Cease's sleeve and grass stain off of the knee of Waleski's gray tux slacks. Jack and McElroy had the sense to wear black so if they had gotten anything on them from their positions on the Wall I couldn't tell and they kept backing away from me like I was their mother and had just spit on a Kleenex to wipe their face with.

The four women walked down the aisle to meet the men of their heart's choice. Kevin Morris, hastily re-garbed in his layman's clergy suit, officiated using vows agreed upon by all four couples.

I, (name), take you, (name), to be my constant friend and faithful partner from this day forward. Before God and these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you. I take you with all your faults and your strengths as I offer myself to you with my faults and strengths. I will help you when you need help, and I will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life. I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health. I accept the responsibility that should you fall victim to NRS I will not leave you to walk the earth but will set you free; so too do I ask the same acceptance of responsibility from you should I fall victim to NRS that you will release me I vow to share with you both the good times and the bad, and in joy as well as in sorrow. I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals, to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live.

At the end Kevin said, "A record of these proceedings will be placed in Sanctuary's record vault after everyone present has signed the registry. As no one has raised any objections to these unions, I will now present to you … " and he introduced each couple under the names they were choosing to use from that point forward.

A huge round of clapping and hurray-ing set the zombies to kicking up a fuss again but they were ignored by all and sundry because the next part was the fun part; kisses and handshakes for everyone. After that the festivities really took off with music, food, and games for all ages until well after dark had set although Steve and his folks had to leave before the sun had set. Not before they were filled to the gills with food and a good sampling of booze. Shorty gave me a call on the radio to let us know they had gotten in safe. I still can't remember who the designated driver was supposed to be. I hope no one's head is pounding too bad in the morning.

Eventually the new couples were allowed to sneak off to their new homes together and I threatened great bodily harm to anyone that thought about any kind of shiveree. I wouldn't have put it past some of the rogues we have around here. Steve's group sound like they could get up to shenanigans like that too. It was fun to have a few of the OSAG around to witness and partake in the celebration. I think they had a good time as well.

Sanctuary appears to be a reasonably sized survivor community, at least by local standards. But most people were, not all that long ago, used to dealing or interacting with in some way hundreds of people. Even if the interaction was passing someone in a stairwell or sharing space with them on the road. To suddenly have those interactions reduced to such a small number can be challenging to our state of mind, to our health. It's much more natural for people to try and build relationships with others than it is for them to seal themselves off behind whatever barricades they can build.

Rhonda and McElroy. Why those two together? She carries the babe of another man and was emotionally wounded when he drew away and left her to shoulder the pregnancy and responsibility of their child alone. McElroy was raised by a single mother under adverse conditions and suffered the resulting slings and arrows life could throw. Both could have been bitter and hardened against relationships but instead the things they experienced pre-NRS left them better equipped to survive the way things are now. That includes building relationships and knowing that one alone suffers in ways that two together do not.

Melody and Cease. Two young people with responsibilities beyond their years and that could have easily overwhelmed them. Yet they managed to find each other and figure out a way to lighten the burdens by sharing them.

Rilla and Waleski. Talk about a Mutt and Jeff. First impressions say that he's too hard and she's too soft. Waleski looks like he's been rode hard and hung up wet. Rilla is peaches and cream and a Mona Lisa smile. But I know for a fact that first impressions can be deceptive. Ski adores Rilla. He appreciates her acceptance and giving nature. Rilla thrives in Ski's stability and desire for constant self improvement to meet his ever increasing responsibilities. Rilla wants that role model for Ty. Ski needs Rilla to help him take the hard edge off so he can be the best he can be.

Patricia and Jack. I'm not sure what brought them together. At first I thought it was all about Patricia's need to manage things and be the master of her own ship. But now, it's like two terribly lonely people have found each other. Both have already experienced high pressure and high maintenance relationships. Now they both appear to be relaxed and secure in each other's regard.

Strange. Zombies outside. Raiders outside. And the other threats hanging over our heads like hunger, disease, the filthies, and all the other unknowns that the future holds. Yet in the end it's the stuff inside that has the most influence on us and our ability to build us up or destroy us.

Dante' volunteered for a couple of extra turns at guard duty rather than attend the facilities. He and Tina were taking turns watching Laura. She's been considerably calmer today but appears to be slipping further into her fantasy world; or further into her sublime manipulation, it's hard to tell which. She reportedly was angry that her parents were keeping her from seeing Marty. It's been almost six weeks to the day since the Big Raid and all of those deaths. Dante' had gone home to give Tina a break but she was only allowed a few minutes before she had to go back home; Dante' was unable to cope with Laura's fantasies.

I guess what all them means to me is that along with what I'm helping to build physically – gardens, food storage, Wall, etc. – I need to put as much effort into building alliances. I need to build relationships – bonds – that strengthen us as individuals and as a community.

Two things I'm going to do to this end. First, tomorrow, I'm going to make sure that Tina gets a break from her caregiver duty. I'm going to sit with Laura for a couple of hours whether either one of us likes it or not. I'm not doing this because I really want to; the whole situation really challenges my ability to remain compassionate. No, I'm doing this simply because it is the right thing to do.

Right now, Laura is our weakest link. Tina and Dante' are her caregivers; they are the glue that is holding her in place for now. If Tina and/or Dante' weaken any more themselves, something could give that could bring us all down. Would it be simpler to enact euthanasia and "take care of the problem" as humanely as possible? I'm sure there are some people that are thinking this, whether they come out and say it or not. But what would that type of choice do to our community in the long run? People would start looking over their shoulders and wondering if they were next is what I think.

So, give Tina and Dante' a break. Help them to stay healthy. Try and determine whether Laura is really pregnant or if this is another piece of manipulation or fantasy on her part. If she is truly mentally ill, determine what is the best course of treatment that we can offer that both helps Laura and her family but that also minimizes the risk to our community. There has to be a balance.

The other thing that Scott and I are going to do is take a little visit. Steve invited us to come over on Saturday and spend the night at their place. Its just going to be Scott and I to start with but if it works out for both groups then we may make a wider habit of it. Alliances. Bonds. Friends.

For now I think I've finally wound down enough to go to sleep. Scott is snoring away having imbibed a bit more of Angus' special recipe than he is used to. Neither James nor David had any … James because I said so and David because he worries about being as susceptible to alcoholism as his parents were. I'm no teetotaler though I rarely have much more than a few sips but tonight when I tried to drink to the many toasts I had to go grab a glass of milk. Between the little bit of liquor and some of the spicy dishes my stomach felt like it had a gallon of acid in it. My stash of Rolaids is almost gone and how I'm going to talk the girls into getting me another bottle without Ski finding out about it I don't know.

Hopefully Scott hasn't taken over the whole bed. It took Charlene and I forever to get his boots off and I'm too tired to wrestle any more tonight.


	159. Day 199

**Day 199 (Thursday) – February 15th**

I just realized that tomorrow will be a big day for more than one reason. Tomorrow will be Bekah's tenth birthday. Double digits. Wow. It only seems like yesterday that I was induced because already at 37.5 weeks she was measuring in at over eight pounds. And that's what she wound up being that day. My eight-pound little pumpkin. Scott dotes on her as does Angus. She's a sweety. I hope that she never gets as spoiled as we are in danger of making her.

The other thing that happens tomorrow is that it will be 200 days since I started this journal. So many changes. On the one hand it seems like only yesterday that my family numbered only seven and we went about our daily lives in a fairly normal fashion. Now … now I don't even know what normal is any more and we've had a heck of a lot more than seven people sleeping under our roof on a daily basis.

Changes everywhere I look.

All the newly "married" folks have been absent today. I kept Belle and Trent with me all day but Melody and Cease came to pick them up and take them "home" right as the sun set. Despite occasionally wishing for more space the house seems strangely empty with them gone. Charlene, Kelly, and Al have taken their spaces, but not their places.

Our fields are coming up well and our animals are multiplying … or soon will be. I try and plant something every day regardless of how tired I am. The chickens are outdoing themselves; we've only lost a couple to hawks and that was before Scrappy took over chicken guarding duty. And Mischief surely cannot go much longer before she has her litter, she can only waddle so far before she lays down with a grunt and a groan.

But it goes further than these internal changes; we are branching out. Seeking things that stretch us in ways maybe that we didn't expect. Glenn, Lee and some of the other guys went out scouting today. They found a good place to build a … maybe … well heck, I'm not sure what to call it. Calling the place Sanctuary 2 seems ridiculous. Calling it a bug out location doesn't seem to explain its potential. It's actually the peninsula of Lettuce Lake Park. It's just east of the backside of USF off of Fletcher Ave. Glenn said with just a little work they could set it up for habitation and even utilize the river as a mode of transportation and a way to create power … the electrical kind.

There was a big powwow about it but I don't want to leave our home. Scott said that it doesn't have to be a bad thing to build a secondary location. Something could happen to Sanctuary or we could be out and need some place to hole up. All of the water surrounding the peninsula would certainly make it easier to defend against zombies. I guess. From the sound of things they are going to proceed. I thought we were done with all the big projects. I guess not. I'm so tired though. I'm ready to just get back to tending to what we have and stop the expanding. I feel full up, like I don't have any more stretch left in me right now.

In the park itself are some buildings but they aren't really on that peninsula. What they are talking about is using the peninsula as the … fallback position I guess you would call it … but turning the entire park, particularly the main area with the nature center and a few other buildings, into a new compound. Given enough time it would be even bigger than Sanctuary is with lots of green spaces and pasture areas that we lack right now. We are hemmed in by the destruction left by the Big Fire, the highway, and the remaining subdivisions in the area. It would also be more hidden than we are here at Sanctuary being right off of and quite visible from a main highway.

Scott told me to relax and not worry about it so much. Something would either come of it or not. I can try and put it out of my head for now but something tells me there are even more changes coming, bigger changes, and I'm not sure if I'm going to like them or not.

Speaking of things that I don't like, I spent four hours with Laura today. It was only supposed to be three but Dante' kept going in and out and I hated to leave Laura alone with no immediate supervision. Dante' is coming to terms with Laura's condition but it will never be easy for a father to realize his little girl hasn't been behaving like a little girl … and of her own free will. Tina was pathetically grateful for the break. She left looking haggard and forlorn; she came back with a much healthier coloring to her face and looking more rested, at least mentally.

If Laura is to be believed her physical relationship with Marty began within a week or two of his family arriving in Sanctuary as refugees. Betty and Waleski both, by physical examination, confirm that Laura is pregnant and right around the beginning of her second trimester … somewhere around 14 weeks along by measuring how high her uterus is above her pubic bone. They found the baby's heart beat and since she is slim she is starting show a little already. It's barely a bump but if you are looking for it, you can tell. She wouldn't have been able to hide it for much longer which apparently what she had been doing up to this point.

Explaining all of this to my Sarah and Bekah has been very difficult for me. I wanted them to stay innocent for a while longer but this new life we lead leaves so little chance of it. Patricia's rape and pregnancy. Tina's rape. Now Laura's pregnancy and the fact that she is so young. There seems to be no way for me or Scott to protect them from the actions of others. In some ways this is worse than the zombies. It was easier when there was hundreds of people around, we could hide this sort of thing in plain sight; they weren't part of our daily lives. Maybe that makes me a coward or unrealistic; I just wanted different for my children. I wanted more innocence, not less.

Strangely, or maybe not so strangely all things considered, it is Charlene that is providing quite a bit of insight into what is going on with Laura. And yes, I'm now firmly convinced this child's mind is off in the land of Nod. She's not faking it though she is still capable of being manipulative on a Machiavellian order. Charlene said so long as nothing threatens the fantasy world Laura is weaving she will be somewhat manageable; however, if something begins to be a threat she will lash out in potentially unpredictable ways.

The question remains whether this is a situation that can be dealt with using behavioral training techniques or is it going to require chemical intervention. If it does require chemical intervention we certainly don't have the expertise to test her to reveal what kind of issue she has. We certainly don't have a psychiatrist on board to prescribe a script even if we could find the drugs. Our first order of business is going to be keeping Laura and her baby physically healthy. We've decided that we'll have to deal with her mental issues later; or when there is a crisis. We just don't have any other options open to us at this time. Certainly Laura will not be able to raise the baby by herself and both Tina and Dante' seem keen in trying to return to "normal" after the baby's birth. So … adoption? Please, oh please, oh please, don't look at Scott and I for this one.

Dante' and Tina aren't so angry as they were before but I don't think I could handle raising their grandchild. That would be too many … too … I don't know, just much more complicated than I can think about right now. Dante' and Tina are no less lost but they seem to have most of their emotions under control for now, but giving how these things work that could change in a blink of an eye and I don't want that hanging over my head. What if Scott and I did take the baby in the Dante' and Tina … or even Laura … got to a point that they wanted the baby back? How would we handle that situation in our little community? This is so traumatic for them. It is for us as a community as well but I'm so glad that it's not my family suffering through this particular scenario. And I don't think I want to get any more tangled up in it than we already are.

Something has got to give. My stomach has been acting up again. I know it's all this stress. I love the people here in Sanctuary but I'm simply not used to all the drama. Well, not that we didn't have a lot of drama with our tenants and the business but there were boundaries. It's not like the drama was in our living room every day. It's hard enough for me not to "mother" people near to death under normal circumstances. This … this … whatever you call it … this life … I just can't seem to help myself. I know it's a bit annoying for some of the guys to have me constantly, and unnecessarily, reminding them of things like a wet hen. They are all adults and most have been on there own for some time. I just can't seem to help myself. Some of them tolerate it pretty well, but sometimes I wonder for how long they'll put up with it until I become the annoying aunt everyone avoids at all cost.

Maybe I'm the one with a case of the nerves. I pray that I never do to my family what Laura is doing to hers.

Well, I'm off to bed a bit earlier than normal. One, Scott noticed that I'd been losing weight again. I have a feeling if Waleski hadn't been honeymooning I would have been unceremoniously packed over to the clinic for a lecture and an examination. And two, tomorrow is Bekah's birthday and Scott and I intend to try and make her day special despite everything that is going on.


	160. Day 200

**Day 200 (Friday) – February 16th – Bekah's birthday**

Angus found the perfect gift for Bekah. She will be allowed to pick one of Mischief's puppies once they are ready to leave their mother. Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning Mischief had a litter of six roly poly little balls of red fur. She's thrilled of course.

Her gift from the kids in Sanctuary was a day off of all chores. I thought that was sweet. The kids got together and divided up the chores she would normally have had to do today and she was free to lollygag to her heart's content. Surprisingly she still insisted on doing some chores; I guess she couldn't stand being left out.

We had the all the kids over to the house for a couple of hours for some old fashioned games … pin the tail on the donkey, clothes pin drop, hot potato, and a few others that escape me at the moment. We had cupcakes rather than a whole cake and I had found those number candles and so Bekah got two cupcakes; one had a "1" on the top and the other had a "0." The kids also got to make kick-the-can ice cream.

I forgot to explain this the other day when we made it on C-Day. First you take an empty and clean one pound coffee can with plastic lid and an empty and clean three pound coffee can with plastic lid. You'll also need duct tape, ice, rock salt, 2 quarts whole milk, 2 cans sweetened condensed milk, 1 package (4 oz.) instant vanilla pudding, and 1 cup sugar

Those ingredients all together will make three one pound cans of ice cream. First you mix pudding with the milk. Then add the sugar and condensed milk and mix it well. After that pour one third of the liquid mixture into a clean, one pound coffee can. There should be at least one inch space left between top of mixture and top of can. Next, place the lid tightly on the one pound can and seal around the edges of the can and lid with duct tape. (I used duct tape because it is less affected by condensation. This will also keep any salt water from getting into your ice cream.) Put the sealed one pound can inside the clean three pound coffee can. Put ice and one cup rock salt around the smaller can. Next, place the lid tightly on the three pound can and seal around the edge of that can and lid with duct tape as well.

Then came the fun part. The kids took turns kicking the can around the yard. You don't play kickball with it ... you just kick it around. I had to remind them not to kick the lid anymore than necessary. Kicking time always varies with the weather and the amount of ice used. We had three different flavors of ice cream by using three different pudding flavors. During the summer, if things continue to go as planned, I might add some fruit to the ice cream. James loves homemade blackberry ice cream. And not too long from now we might get some strawberries off of my hanging baskets if the blasted things would ever make.

There weren't a lot of fancy gifts but Rose and David gave her another journal that they had put a leather cover on. She had already used up the book she was using. James had made her a new sling shot and found her a whole bag of good stones to use. The littles decorated a backpack that she could put her journal and slingshot in. Sarah and Samuel made her a book on Morse Code from some books that Dix kept around. Scott and I built her a chest to put at the foot of her bed that she could keep her treasures in and that would double as a "hope chest" as she got older. Eventually we'll make all of the girls a chest; it's something useful and lasting that they can remember us by when we are gone.

As much as we like to spoil our kids we couldn't take the whole day up with her birthday. We had our normal chores which included me trying to get more seeds in the ground and taking care of what was popping up.

The men finished the rear gate house; that alone was worth celebrating. I'm happy to have the project over with. It always made me nervous watching them lift those wooden and concrete poles and posts into place. The potential for injury was always high if one of those things had given out. Not to mention the threat of zombies catching them unawares coming out of the underbrush. If it was just a matter of running a bush hog through that over growth I would have done it long ago. The problem is that there is so much debris all through there that if I tried, I'd kick up so many missiles that someone would undoubtedly get hurt. Or even worse, the bush hog or tractor would get broken.

The other thing we are preparing for is to go over to OSAG tomorrow. I'm nervous about leaving the kids overnight but Scott is insistent. He thinks I need to get away and we intend on enjoying ourselves.

There's been more talk of building a secondary compound at Lettuce Lake Park. Some of the guys are really gung ho for it. I suppose it is a bit of an adventure. And I suppose I also have to admit that there is a certain amount of sense to the whole scheme. Like Scott says, give it a chance and maybe the idea will grow on me. It's just we've done so much to Sanctuary, I don't want to leave.

He's response, "Who's talking about leaving? It's just another location like our secret bug out location."

Whatever the ultimate design of the place I can tell some of the younger men are really getting into the idea. Glenn too though Saen has told him that he needs to pick a place and land on it as she wants to put her seedlings in the ground.

Mr. Morris isn't keen on the idea at all. I accidentally overheard him complaining to Kevin about just really starting to feel settled and then all this fuss about moving to another location. I think he was referring to J. Paul and Clay Jr. They seem really eager to go adventuring.

It's probably like the pioneering days. Sometimes folks would just get an itch to find some place new, some place better, where they could explore the scope of all they were capable of being. Maybe as was sometimes the case, some place safer away from the criminal element or away from other dangers.

But I like it where we are, warts and all. I know that I can keep my kids safe here. I know that I can grow food to feed them here. Going to a new compound could mean starting from scratch. But some of the young men said that's the whole point. Start with something fresh, with no constraints, and make the way you want to not the way someone else envisioned it to be.

They've also talked of the disadvantages of Sanctuary's location. We have no running water source only retention ponds and small lakes. Saen said that it would be much easier to put in rice paddies in the other location. Glenn spoke of water driven generators. They mentioned all of the destruction we have surrounded Sanctuary on all sides. Cindy even mentioned how much healthier the environment could be for the kids as there would be no moldering houses nearby to potentially cause illness. Some of the men raised the issue of how much more defensible it would be using the river to guard most of the perimeter.

I hear them. I even agree that it sounds nice. It's just that it isn't home. I don't know if I could ever reconcile myself to a permanent move to a new location. It bothers me to even think about it too much. I've invested so much into our home, into Sanctuary; I don't know if I could leave it.

Maybe I'm being silly, making a mountain out of a molehill. All I can handle right now is one day at a time. And that means that tomorrow we get to go on a mini-vacation to visit OSAG. That's just about as away from home as I feel like getting right now.

(Later, sometime early AM)

Couldn't sleep. Just can't seem to get things to leave me alone enough so I can truly unwind and find REM … no not the music group, deep sleep, assuming when anyone reads this they still remember that there was a band called REM. The desire for music sent me to the radio and I wound up listening to Steve's broadcast again.

* * *

 _Welcome back to Steve's Midnight Music and talk show folks. That last tune was the Black Crowes "Sting Me". Now in the background while I talk, is going to be a little Allman Brothers Band tune called "Mountain Jam". Those of you in the know, it's anything but little. From their album "Eat a Peach" it is 30 plus minutes of rambling rock and roll._

 _Oh, a time check for all you listeners out there. The only working clock on the air says that it is exactly one o'clock in the A of M._

 _So on with the talk part of the show. Here over the last couple of weeks we've been seeing a little bit of rain, sunshine and the coming of the hot weather. Now since I've been out of the old blue uniform I can say that I've ceased to notice as much the mind numbing craziness that seems to affect some of our more challenged citizens when the fucking weather changes or the God damn moon is full, but then, my circle of humanity has lessened considerably over the last few months, as a matter of fact, I'm down to about 30 people that I like to fucking call friends. I'm down to even less that fucking remember me much before all this. I have noticed that the affect that it has on the God damn zombies around us. Anyone else notice that they seem to be much more aggressive as of late?_

 _I bring that little point up so I can tell you a story about our little adventures here on the great campus grounds that we are calling home at the moment. Now we've been slowly clearing out the buildings around us, checking out those places that will interest us for present and future needs as it were. We like to travel in groups around here and on this day the group consisted of Myself, Dave, Rusty and Shorty's oldest daughter—Bee. That's what I call her is Bee…. She's just about my favorite daughter in her own way, she reminds me of her mother in more ways than even they'll admit._

 _Now Bee is one that had life gone differently, would have ended up partying away much of her youth and shit. Not that I find that to be disagreeable, I did much of the same damn thing myself. I must say that I probably contributed to her unruliness more than a couple of times. She, like her mother, is a killer shot as long as she likes the firearm and can be a bit of a handful if crossed._

 _So on this particular day, we were spending our waking moments clearing out one of the dorms, using a method that we like to refer to around here as Blitzkrieg. And like the lightening strike that the method is named after, we strike from above and work our way down. You see, folks, there at the end, people barricaded themselves in buildings and when they did so, they locked the doors from the inside. No shit you say-I can hear you say it-well, the obvious problem with all of that barricading is this: you have to beat down god damn doors to get into places when you attack from the front. When you beat down doors, you make a lot of fucking noise, and when you make noise, who comes for dinner?_

 _That's right listeners, the fucking undead._

 _So, here's what we do—feel free to take notes listeners—we get a big ass ladder that reaches the first landing of the fire escape or the rung of the access ladder and we climb to the top. From there we establish a base of operations and we pull up the shit ton of ammo that we haul around on these occasions along with our lunch, because if you're going to clear a building, you're gonna need lunch. We have developed a nice little way to get rid of the undead, by the way, that involves the use of no firearm ammo at all, as long as the distance is not further than a room's length. It's a pretty neat device that was invented by the other Dave and our resident chef, Phil. A little air rifle of sorts that fires a .50 caliber ball. It does a nice job of making a hole in the head. We've styled it after the AR15 and if anyone wants one, contact us in the usual ways. Making them is simple, as long as you have the pressure chamber for the compressed air or even better—since we're in Florida where you can get these things—a SCUBA tank. Ours use the tank and you get about a hundred rounds out of a tank before it goes to shit._

 _We also have to haul up a little genny and compressor but like everything we do, there's a system._

 _So on this day we were tackling a dorm. In this case Beta Hall. For those of you who don't know about this building, it was designed to hold 290 students, two at a time crammed into a 16'x11' space with all their junk, beer, food, computers, clothing and books. Now Beta Hall is basically four stories of rooms. The nice thing about Florida is everything has to be able to with stand a hurricane. The bad thing, you guessed it listener, the whole damn hurricane thing. The roof of the building will support a battalion of mercenaries, but they'll pay hell to break through the door on the roof getting in. And again, we've got ways around that too…._

 _But I see that the song is over, so I'll break for a couple of songs, and pick up here in just a few minutes. Once again, for those of you listening and have ham, its 5330.5 on the dial and you CB folks, you know who you are, its channel 30. All others keep trying on the phone lines, you never know, you might get through. Here's Stringcheese Incident with "Shenandoah Breakdown"._

 _And that was a bit of a change up for our listening audience, Metallica with "Eye of the Beholder". Thanks for the call in Mikey, glad to know that you're still out there banging heads. Now for our little background music, I'm going to put in a little Dead for us all. This one is "Blues for Allah" from the album "One from the Vault". The time is two ten by the only clock on the radio._

 _Where was I? Oh yeah, breaking down the door at Beta Hall._

 _Well, the three of us and the girl, we breached the door as pretty as you please and entered the stairway that lead to the upper floor. I don't think I need to tell you about the smell, in the past few months we've all encountered that mummified smell of decay, the stagnate odor of old blood and meat that has rotted beyond its expiration date. On went our head lamps and the weapon lights strapped to our super-charged air rifles. Now those things weren't the only weapons we had by any means, but they lead the way, listeners, lead the way into the dark stair well._

 _Let me be the first to admit that I am overly protective of the women in my life and because I am, they get to walk in the middle. Dave was in the lead, I was next, Bee and then Rusty. I trust Rusty with my God damn life as well as Bees and he's never let me down. The speed that we move through these things, the rear guard is an important post. If something bitey tries to sneak up one us, it's the job of the guy at the back to make sure it is fucking stopped now. Thankfully there did not seem to be anything in the stairwell so we hit the first door, so to speak, and Dave and I peeled into the room to either side while Bee and Rusty took up forward positions to clear the middle of the room while Dave and I worked the room from out side._

 _Like most dorms this one had a community room and this one was at our end where we were and from it ran the hallway the length of the building. Into the hall emptied the dorms for the top floor._

 _Listeners, I'm here to tell you, we had stepped into a fucking hornets nest._

 _It seemed that every student that was housed in that building was on that floor. They had been simply standing in place when we broke through, I've seen this weird-ass behavior from them in other buildings, but let me tell you, it still makes me shiver like a motherfucker when I see it. These monsters, as if they had one mind, all swing their decaying faces toward us in one rippling, chilling moment. Dave and I began to fire our air rifles-when your faced with that many zombies, dear listener, that's all these supped-up things feel like—pumping them like mad as we began to take aim and drop the beasts closest to us. I could hear Bee and Rusty start in as well, the hollow pop of the air as it escaped the barrel to push that .50 caliber projectile down range is somewhat like hearing a HK MP5SD as it fires it's suppressed rounds._

 _The things then began to moan as their number started decreasing. They jerks and shuffled and growled at us. We kept up our fire, blowing holes in skulls and tearing through rotting flesh with the round balls. Then the rager hit us. There might have been more than one, but I saw one, and it was fast._

 _It tore through it's fellows with a growl and a howl that I'll hear in my sleep for days to come. It seemed that we all fired at it, but it was so fast it caught us off guard. I saw Rusty go down as it hit him with what looked to be a full body tackle. All Dave and I could do was keep shooting at the horde in front of us, killing as many as we could be fore we were overwhelmed._

 _Now, listener, you might be asking yourself, why the fuck didn't you get out of there Steve? Well, listener, we've all talked about it now that we're alive to do so, and you know what? It never occurred to us to even try. We were all of the mind set that we had a job to do, and we were by God going to get it done. Training took over, is all I can tell you._

 _So, Rusty is down, Bee is shooting at everything that is around her and Dave and I can only provide as much supporting fire as we can pump out of those air rifles. These things are closing in on us like a fetid wave, the air is thick with their stink and filled with the sound of them hissing and moaning at us._

 _Let me take a moment to tell you about another little thing we've been playing with: armor. Not just any armor, oh no, this is poor man's armor. What we've done here is taken the two liter plastic coke bottle and cut each end off, then split it down the middle. We then tape, that's right listener, duct tape them to our outer clothing, covering the forearms and upper arms as well as the exposed parts of our legs. That with the gear we already wear makes us just about bite proof on everything but our faces and necks. Remember that, folks, coke bottles and duct tape._

 _This thing is trying to rip apart Rusty, and I can see from the way Rusty is struggling, he's having a hard time with it, and Rusty is not a small boy, he's a farm boy and a wielder by trade, so strength is not an issue for him. But there's not measure of the crazy in these fucking ragers. As we're shooting I can tell that the air rifle is about out of juice, the rounds are starting to have the pop sound to them they get when the pressure drops in the tank. Another rager breaks through the ranks and nearly takes Dave's arm off. He manages to draw his pistol and shoots the thing dead as it is dragging at his arm, mauling the plastic armor with broken teeth._

 _Oh, I see that we've got another break coming up, so here's a little Gov't Mule with "Mr. High and Mighty"._

 _It's two thirty and now it's time for the rest of the story. Aren't you glad that Uncle Paul is to far dead for all of this?_

 _We left with Dave shooting yet another rager, Rusty on his back fighting one, and we're about out of steam from the air rifles. Well, Bee, God Bless her, she gets it in her head, she's going to end this shit, and now._

 _She drops her rifle and pulls out her pistol, my Browning High Power, actually, and with a yelled curse of her own, grabs the rager by what little hair it has on the back of the head and proceeds to ventilate this bastards skull. She then turns as if she's been doing this all her life and takes out three of those fuckers with as many shots. Dave, the gamer that he is, is not going to be out done by a girl and he proceeds to start dropping the monsters right and left. I'm out of air and my air gun goes to the way side, my ow is in hand and to make a very long story short, we finish off the fuckers with well placed 9mm's._

 _So after it was all said and done, we found that all of students had for some unknown reason had gone to the top floor for an End of the World party. Now we know this because there were still hand made posters and such hanging all over the place that announced that it was that type of party. My guess is that one of the guests was bitten and never told anyone, then things went down hill from there. We found all kinds of things there, from cans of food to bottles of booze and kegs, boy and girls, whole entire untapped kegs of the worst kind of beer a college student can buy. But these days, that makes it pretty damn good beer._

 _Also, Rusty is fine, he's taking a large amount of shit for getting knocked down and then having to be saved by a girl; but since the girl is mine in a round about way, I wouldn't have expected anything less from her._

 _So with that little tale being told, I will turn this back into the Music portion of the show and toward that end, here's some Frank Zappa—"My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Momma"._

 _Oh, and by the way, for those of you who put in the request, my Kid will be holding both a Mass and a semi-Protestant service tomorrow. The Mass will be at ten, the Protestant service at noon. You know Rick Rubin and Johnny Cash used to hold services long distance, so we're not in bad company with this. Now here's Frank._

* * *

Might as well stay up now. David is off to guard duty and Scott has started to snore again. Its not worth the hassle of trying to get an hour of two of sleep that will just leave me more tired than I was before when I have to wake up. OK … maybe a couple of hours of sleep but then we need to get up and moving.


	161. Day 201202

**Day 201/202 (Saturday/Sunday)**

It's the middle of the night, or early morning depending on how you want to look at it. We were having a great time here at OSAG until some very disturbing news was passed along. I've transcribed Steve's broadcast. He was pretty bent out of shape tonight but not much more than Scott was. Seems we have more than just basic survival and zombies to be concerned about.

* * *

 _The time is two twenty according to my handy pocket watch, which is the watch that all clocks are set by if you listen to Steve's Midnight Music and Talk, the Voice of Free Florida. I often wonder just how accurate that little wind up piece of railroad history might be according to the Atomic Clock in Colorado, But then, since the world went to shit, is there still an Atomic Clock? Or is there even a threat of the atom as we once knew it? Stay tuned and find out. New horrors are on our door step, boys and girls, and as Oppenheimer said about his little 10,000 pound package of terror when he first saw one detonated, "I am become death". That little quote from the Bhagavad Gita just kinda sums up about all of our man made foibles in the last year._

 _"I am become death, destroyer of worlds."_

 _Now gentle listener, did you know that the man who gave us the weapon to rule the world, to set the future of generations in stone, was being investigated by his own fucking government at the time he was in effect, working to save it? Ain't that fucking ironic?_

 _I was once at Los Alamos, that little town that started life as a pueblo on the mesa, then became a boys school before morphing into the town that did not exist from about 1940 until the 1950's. I ate at the Sonic Drive through there and visited the very informative and fantastic museum which chronicled our decent into a nuclear arms race. It was an awesome place. I gazed upon the wonders that the quest for power gave us, and then stared at the replica of the package that was delivered to Japan that fateful day. I read the words of the scientists who worked on the project and knew that I was staring at history._

 _I was sobered by the thought of the authority we wield. It made me think about the things we do in the name of justice and peace._

 _"I am become death, destroyer of worlds."_

 _I start this show with that little thought today while the sounds of "Burning Sky" play in the background for a reason. Why do I bring up John Oppenheimer and his little ball of death for you to ponder? Well, my friends, they've gone and done it. Our fantastic new government, remember the one that you and I did not get to vote for?, that fucking group of low life wannabe rulers have gone and stated that, and I quote here, "…in order to regain a foothold on the sacred soil of these United States, the President of the United States has asked the pro-tem congress to release a series of small warheads for experimental use against strategic targets to be named by the presidential panel and the Chiefs of Staff…"_

 _Now I ask you my friends, at what fucking point do we consider nuking ourselves to create an experimental explosion to see if it will kill zombies? The question we have to ask ourselves is this one; have they already done it?_

 _Yeah, I know, I sound a lot like the conspiracy talk show host of old, but I can only report as I hear it. And that, guys, is the way I heard it. We are about two hundred or so days into what I like to think of as our self imposed siege. We've given the land over to the barbarians and, folks, they now pound at our Goddamn gates._

 _Let me give you this last quote from the Bahgavad Gita;_

 _"If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendor of the mighty one…"_

 _Comments? That's 5330.5 on the ham and channel 30 for you in CB land. All other's please call the operator and she'll patch you through._

* * *

Even at this late hour Steve is getting some comments about what is going on. He had just as many people saying they believed it as saying that there was no way the government would ever do it, that if it were true they were just asking for the power to do it.

We've learned we have other reasons to be very concerned as well and OSAG has made the decision to broadcast this tomorrow. Seems they are losing contact with people to the south of us. It started about a week ago. Fuel is getting very scarce in some of these areas so they put it down to the generators failing but when they started mapping where and when they noticed a definite pattern. Homestead, a couple of outposts in the Everglades, Lehigh Acres, Cape Coral, Port Charlotte, Sarasota, Bradenton … in that order. Simply fuel shortages would be more random.

And today they got a frantic call from a very small group in Ruskin. These people were probably the equivalent of the filthies of our area. Steve said all contact with them has been decidedly bizarre and most of the time they ignore them. However, this time they were going on about a large horde, larger than they'd ever seen passing just to the east of them. The path of the horde was roughly north, flowing between US41 and Interstate 75.

Who knows what to think of it. A man in Gibsonton that OSAG has set up some trades for denied the rumor say that sure, he'd seen more zombies than usual but no giant horde. But a couple of hours later when he was called for an update he wasn't on the air; he hasn't been on the air since. That could be for a million different reasons but ….

Using our the radio equipment we brought with us we notified Dix and Matt and we're … well we're going to prepare and pull back a bit until we see what's what. Steve said their group is going to do the same. With the speed that this is apparently happening another day or two should tell the tale of whether this is true or a false rumor.

Dear reader of the future, you might wonder why I am up so late. Well, I made a pig of myself today. OSAG eats good … real good. We had a wonderful lunch prepared by a classically trained chef and his assistants. For dinner, there were more wonderful dishes and for those of us with more plebian tastes enough pizza that I gave myself an incredible case of heartburn. Also, I'm not used to being away from the kids overnight. Even pre-NRS I can count on one hand the number of times that Scott and I have been away from all the kids overnight since Rose was an infant. Either he or I were with them unless they were on away trips like with scouts, sleepovers at friends, or mission trips. And all of these rumors, they are just making me more anxious to return to them.

Not that I didn't have a great time here at OSAG. To the contrary, despite this latest information I had a wonderful time. I spent quite a bit of time helping them get a better of idea about what they could plant around here and when. Florida definitely runs on a different planting/harvesting schedule than where they are from. I also helped them to locate and identify some of the tropical fruit trees from the botanical garden on campus as well as some of the other native plants they weren't familiar with that were planted in the atriums of some of the university buildings.

Scott shot the breeze and smoked a couple of cigars with some of the men when they weren't on guard duty. I don't know which has left more aromatic evidence behind, the cigars or the results of overindulging in pizza.

They've got a real nice set up. I won't go into fine detail here in case this journal should ever fall into the wrong hands at the wrong time but they've built greenhouses and have taken advantage of a lot of the equipment and materials that were abandoned on campus and in the surrounding area. They run about 30 people strong with a nice mix of males and females. There are a few kids but not as many as Sanctuary has; they even have a little one about Kitty's age. Their food supply is growing from their trading but I was happy to see that they were realistically trying to become self-sufficient. Maybe one of these days we all can go back to specialization but to survive these days you need to be able to do just about a little of everything. Or at least do enough well enough to get by.

I made the mistake of only bringing the solar lamp and not the wind up one. My light is dimming so I need to put down my pen and paper. Maybe I can get a few hours of sleep so that I don't crash during the services that Steve's son is facilitating. Its been so long. I even brought a dress to wear … even shaved my legs for the occasion though I don't think I'll ever have the complete knack of shaving the back of my knees with a straight razor, I'm terrified I'm going to slip and cut into those veins and arteries back there.

We hope to get back to Sanctuary early afternoon.


	162. Day 203

**Day 203 (Monday) – Washing Day (February 19)**

Well, I finally got a decent night's sleep last night. Almost didn't have any choice, I was just all give out. When we got back on Sunday the kids were ecstatic to see us. Even James who is going through that stage when its bad for a boy to show too much emotion one way or the other clapped his father on the back and gave me a hug in broad daylight. Nearly made me swoon. Yes, the sarcasm is heavy on that one.

We told our tale, got caught up on what had been happening in Sanctuary, put away our stuff, sat down to dinner and then as soon as I got back to the house after cleaned up I went to bed.

This morning I got up and really focused back on getting into our normal chore schedule. First I went and checked the garden and made my list of things that would need to be done there. Next came breakfast. I wasn't on the morning caper chart for that task but I was on it for dinner so I needed to leave myself time this afternoon to do prep. But after breakfast and before everything else it was laundry time.

Laundry is never fun but the shorter we get of cleaning products the nastier a job the laundry gets. I have this big animal trough set up over a fire where I boil the clothes. It's a dirty, sweaty job. The fire can't get too smoky otherwise the clothes all smell like smoke so it takes a good hardwood fire with dry wood; around here that means oak. We've taken all the downed trees and we try and keep up with getting wood cut but I noticed today that the once huge pile is about half of what it once was. I reminded everyone at dinner if they take wood they need to replace it. Little bit of grumbling but I can't help it. We use wood for everything … the cook stove, laundry, wash water, boiling drinking water.

I know some of the guys keep talking about solar power and how it will be the salvation of us all. Frankly though Florida has so much humidity and cloud cover (and tree cover) that we only get a percentage of what the same solar set up would get in a place like Arizona. Just because we are called the Sunshine State doesn't mean that sunshine doesn't come with clouds and rainfall for significant parts of the year. In fact, I've noticed in our solar powered lamps, as the humidity level has gone up its begun to take longer to recharge. The same is true of our solar battery chargers. Our solar hot water heater is doing OK, even a bit better but that's because it is a passive system. It's not charging anything, merely running the water through a series of black pipes into a black, plastic holding tank. The warmer and more humid it gets the faster the water will heat and stay heated.

Melody was so funny. She came over in a bit of a panic and said, "I've watched you do this so many times and even helped. But … doing this all by myself – and Cease's and the kids' clothes as well – is totally awful!" I laughed a little and told her to dump their stuff in with ours and we'd to it all together. It was nice to have her back over and I know Rose was happy to see her again. Charlene is a great girl but I suspect that Rose sees her too much as she would James, which means younger.

I also told the girls we needed to conserve laundry detergent. The commercial stuff was all used up a couple of months ago and I've been making our own but now even that is beginning to run out. We are running out of washing soda and I haven't a clue where to get more. It's one of those things that is a basic chemical ingredient and I don't know how to make it myself. We are also down to about half the borax we had. That's another basic chemical ingredient I can't make more of. And what we have left I want to reserve for pest control which could be a serious issue come this summer.

One particular project that Scott thinks I've lost my mind over is that I've planted a hedge row of yucca plants; also known as Spanish bayonets and for good reason. The roots of these plants are a good food. Yucca – pronounced You-Ka in Spanish – has always been popular around here. Scott didn't eat a lot of it growing up because his mom had a grudge against it, that and grits because that was all she had to eat when she was growing up during the Depression. However, his dad would buy it every once in a while and taught me to cook it. But the other good thing about yucca, or so I was told, was that you can take the yucca root and pound it up and use it as a kind of soap. We haven't gotta get that self-sufficient yet, but I suppose I should start experimenting with it sooner rather than later. Better to know about how well it will work ahead of time than to be counting on it and find out it's nothing but a dud.

The other thing we can do now that we are raising our own meat is when the time comes to butcher the hogs, we can render lard. We can also save the grease after we've cooked all we can with it and use it – and fresh lard – to make our own soap. Of course that means I have to use lye. I had a friend when I was younger and just getting into the urban homesteading that had tried to make her own lye soap. She received a very bad burn. I've got some powdered lye that I've put away in the shed out in the orange grove. That stuff is nothing to fool with.

Here are my written directions for making homemade lye which is what we'll have to do because the store bought lye – also known as caustic soda – will eventually run out just like all the other commercial products.

First I'll need about two to three gallons of rainwater. This is very important because the water has to be "soft" water rather than well water that could possibly have minerals in it. Then I'll need to get my wooden barrel that I drilled a small drainage hole in approximately two inches above the bottom. And I'll need a plug or cork to close the hole with. The barrel I have is waist-tall but you can use a cask-sized barrel as well; you just make less lye in a batch.

I'm going to set the barrel out in the back corner of our yard on bricks so that it is very stable. You don't want this stuff turning over accidentally. Plus it needs to set undisturbed for a while. The bricks also help me to raise the barrel up high enough so that I can get my big glass jar under it to catch the run off when it is time.

Once I have the barrel stabilized I'll cover the bottom of the barrel with some palm-sized clean rocks (e.g. river rock) and then cover the rocks with approximately 6" of straw (this can be hay or grass). This will filter the ashes and help the lye drain cleanly.

Then I'll put in clean ashes from the cook stove. You want to use hardwood ashes, such as oak, for the best lye but you can also use fruitwood ashes. But avoid pine, fir, and other evergreens. They have oils in them that prevent the making of good lye. And you want only ashes, not chunks of charcoaled wood. Make sure the ashes are cold as well otherwise you'll do something dorky like a friend of mine and start a fire in your barrel. Hot ashes and wooden barrels do not mix well at all.

I'll completely fill the barrel with ash, but it is not necessary; you can make smaller amounts with less ash. You need to put a pan under the hole and remove the plug or cork. Then you pour the soft water in until you see it start to drain into the pan; plug the hole back up really quick. The water level should be about 6" from the top of the barrel. After a day, the first ash should settle and you can add more ash.

You have to let this ashy mess sit for at least 3 days. You can add ash all week and drain it regularly on a specific day of the week.

To see if the lye is ready you can either give it to a chemist which we are kinda shy of here in Sanctuary, or you can use the old-fashioned method. Drop a fist-sized potato or a raw egg into the barrel. If it floats enough for a quarter-size piece to rise above the water, it is ready. If it doesn't, you need to add more ashes or drain all the water and re-leach it (pour it back into the cask and let it set one more cycle).

Make sure that you have a wooden crock or glass container to catch your lye when it's ready. I put a big gallon glass jar under the tap, gently pull the cork, and let the liquid lye run into it. You don't want to overfill the container so be ready with the plug in case you need it. You need to leave enough head room so that the container is safe and easy to pour.

A good, tight-fitting lid is a necessity and you store the lye in a cool dark place until use; but its best if used soon after making it. The old leached ashes can also be a pain to dispose of. You have to dig a hole far away from everything and then pour the muck into it. You can't fill the hole back in until the ashes are completely dry or they'll just make more lye and you'll get a pocket of it that could bleed off into things you don't want it bleeding off into.

I know there is a certain amount of satisfaction in doing stuff yourself, the old-fashioned way but I tell you that there was a reason all of those door-to-door salesmen used to make a good living selling vacuum cleaners, commercially made brushes, and cleaning products you didn't have to make yourself. The value of a person's time is priceless.

After our family laundry was finished I moved on to the gardening. I really should try to clear Wash Day of other major chores but I find myself playing catch up more often than not which is really irritating. Today I planted more corn and weeded the gardens that have already been planted. A couple of the smaller plots are drying out faster than I want; it doesn't take long before the plants are wilting. I think I may need to build some kind of shading devices to avoid some of the worst direct sun for those plots.

We need rain again. This time of year is always on the dry side but coming off of what was basically a drought there just isn't any cushion. I've noticed that a couple of the bigger trees outside of Sanctuary are stressed to the point that they aren't putting off new leaves like they should and what leaves are still there are just dry and brown. I mentioned them to Scott and he said he has them marked for cutting. The drier they are to start with the less time it will take them to cure. My man has got some smarts, gotta love that. At least now I don't have to worry about those trees coming down in a storm.

I really needed to have more time in the gardens but I needed to gather what fruit that hadn't fallen … and we are getting more fallen fruit than I like because of this dry spell … and then get over to the kitchen and get going.

Fixed some poke salad tonight to go with dinner. Not everyone likes it so I didn't make a big batch. And it's a water intensive dish as well because you have to parboil and rinse the greens a couple of times to leech all the bitterness out. But, when you talk about complete self-sufficiency you take your sustenance where you can find it. Just wait until I start putting wild salads on the table with flowers in it … I can't wait for the nasturtiums to bloom and I'm watching for the early dandelions.

I may not get many of those this season. People kept their yards with that "weed and feed" fertilizer so that the only thing I'm seeing right now is dollar weed and those southern thistles that look like purple dandelions.

I'm only collecting a small batch of macadamias at a time, and they aren't very big ones either so I made macadamia cookies for dessert. They were more cookie than nut but that's the way it goes some times.

For dinner I made Alligator Chili out of some alligator tail that Dix brought in. With water levels shrinking we've got some grandpappy gators trying to find new homes in the local canals. How this one made it into Sanctuary we still aren't sure. This thing had to be every bit or eleven or twelve feet long which is a fairly good size for today's standards. Samuel and my Sarah quoted the factoid that the record for gator length is 19 feet and that was taken back in the 1800s. I swear if it involves animals, one of those two kids will have something to say about it.

There must be a shallow, underwater access between the water that is inside Sanctuary and some of the ponds and canals outside the Wall. If there is it would like be on the southeast corner which is where Dix shot this one. The gator may have been a blessing in disguise. I'm fairly certain that zombies can't swim but humans can. The last thing we need is an unknown backdoor into Sanctuary. At least this way we'll be on the lookout for it. It could be an old drainage pipe, there are some around here.

Gator Chili is pretty easy to fix and I had some kidney beans that needed to be used up any way. Some weevils got into this batch in question and Betty and I just looked at each other and strained out the beans and put them to soak without telling anyone. I've said it before, I'll say it to my dying day … "Waste not, want not." Weevils are nothing but protein anyway.

You take the gator tail and dice it up. You could grind it but I really didn't have the time to do it right today. Ground meat needs to have the right amount of fat in it and gator tail is pretty lean as far as it goes, about the texture of filet mignon. Once you have your meat diced up you just fix it like you would beef chili … kidney beans, spices, tomato sauce, etc. The chili was so thick it was more like a stew and more people than I expected ate it over the rice I had also fixed.

Normally when I'm the one cooking I try and have a bowl of fruit salad to offset anything spicy that I'm fixing or to help fill the empty spaces people might have left if they worked especially hard that day. There just isn't a whole lot of variety of fruit right now since most of the citrus trees have been picked over. Instead I put out a bowl of tropical apricots. The fruits are only about two inches in diameter but the 15 foot bushes are producing so heavy - despite the lack of rain - that I bet I'll get nearly a hundred pounds per bush. That won't go too far with the crowd we have but at least its fresh fruit.

Tonight since I cooked I didn't have to clean. What's more, on Wash Day, the guys usually take care of the dinner dishes since the women did most of the laundry.

I was still pretty worn out despite the good sleep I got last night so Scott and I didn't hang around the dining hall very long. We took the kids, went home, and we all sort of lay around the house doing whatever we felt like for a change.

David, Rose, and James normally hang out with the others but they made it an early night as well. They said they were talking more and more about founding that new colony over in Lettuce Lake Park. They are going to call it "Aldea" which is Spanish for village.

Scott and I have talked more about it. We've decided if at all possible we will remain in Sanctuary. But we can also see the sense of having Aldea. There is a lot of scope for growth over there from what Scott saw today. Glenn and some of the others have a lot of great ideas and they've even got some of it on paper. My one big concern is flooding. Sure, the river is very low right now, but if we have a really rainy season or a tropical storm or worse comes through and the low areas will be underwater in no time.

It isn't surprising that there is some resistance to the new location. Heck, Scott and I feel that way. And McElroy and Rhonda as well as Jack and Patricia were quite outspoken about not wanting to move to a new location that was being built from scratch. I can understand that. I wouldn't want to have made a regular house-to-house move if I was that pregnant; this situation is so much worse.

The big surprise for me is that Matlock wants to go over with some of our people and get started on it tomorrow. Becky apparently wants to go as well. They will of course be taking Jenny and Tommy with them. The other big shock was Cindy. She wants to go which means she will be taking "her" kids with her. She said she wants to be in on founding a potentially important post-NRS settlement. Most of the unattached young men are gung-ho to go but its hard to tell who will go and who won't at this stage.

They still need Sanctuary as we have the open ground to plant crops and the protected pasture for the animals. Until Aldea is self-supporting we'll continue to grow crops for them and take care of the domestic animals for them which will keep us in very close contact. They'll trade us what they hunt and who knows what all.

If I don't worry about it too much I can see where it is a good move. It will be an alliance and it will also give us some badly needed growing room … breathing room. Too many "alphas" in a group can be as destructive as not enough.

The biggest thing that surprised me however is that Dix wasn't interested in moving to Aldea. I mean I was really floored when he told Scott and I that. It seems he has done nothing but move around his whole life, even when he was a kid. Sanctuary is really the first place he has truly invested himself into and he isn't really interested in starting over someplace else. Then there is the issue of Samuel. Dix said that with Patricia needing more and more care as her pregnancy advances there is no way she could pull up stakes and move to Aldea. He doesn't want to leave Samuel who isn't ready to leave his mother; therefore, Dix said he will remain at Sanctuary while Matlock moves over to Aldea for "a while."

I wonder what that means for Dix and Cindy. Are they going to be a long-distance couple or were they never really serious in the first place? Yeah, I'm nosy, but it could be meaningful in the long run.

Angus said he will lend them a hand getting Aldea up and running but that he was happy with his "man cave" and with his fire house. I suspect he'll probably bounce around between Aldea and Sanctuary depending on how he feels. He still gets the itchy foot every once in a while and gets that "I'm about to take off" look on his face. He's like the mountain men … always moving, looking for the next something, etc. I don't know if he'll ever settle in one place permanently.

Given the chance there are probably several people that would like to see how their families made out, if their families made out. I know some of them are convinced they have and I won't contradict them. One of these days I'd like to know how my brother and nephews have done. But that is likely a far piece down the road. For now we have Aldea to think about; and more info being relayed to us through OSAG's radio contacts.

One of the reasons that contact may have been lost along the south-west coast of Florida is that there is a huge fire that seems to be running up the spine of the state. Finally got word out of Ft. Lauderdale that something exploded in Miami and the fire took off like a bat out of hell and is eating its way northwards. The 'Glades look like they took a miss but a big chunk of Big Cypress National Preserve looks like it got eaten by the flames.

The fire is enormous and its been tracked to the west of Lake Okeechobee and as far north as Sebring, Avon Park, Wachula and most recently flames have been sighted in Bartow and even into Plant City. Lord help us all.


	163. Day 204

**Day 204 (Tuesday) February 20th**

Woke up this morning to the animals acting a little skittish; can't say as I blame them. The smell of smoke was heavy on the air. The threat of fire didn't stop us from having work to do, just slowed us down a bit. No one is really coughing and hacking though I've sneezed more than my fair share. Kevin and Mr. Morris said that this is the way it was when all of those fires in north Florida were making life rough a few years back. They suggested everyone wear a dampened bandana or some other cloth over their face and that we keep the kids inside.

Before I forget I'm sticking Chris'contribution for my journal right here. His words ring oddly apropos for the remainder of today's entry.

* * *

 _I guess I should start out where it began. Well, where this whole mess began for me, at least. It was my history minor that got me down here. I was doing a road trip from Richmond to Savannah and back for my thesis on the importance of naval warfare during the Civil War. It's a time period that's always fascinated me, and I figured that first-hand research was the best way to go. While I was in the neighborhood, I figured I'd meet up two old friends, Scott D. and Brian, at UCF for a day or two of hanging out and catching up since they were about to head off to Basic for the National Guard, and then we'd head to UF for a conference being held on the effectiveness of the Anaconda Plan. We heard about NRS on the radio on the way there, and figured it was just some new craze, the way the bird flu had been a few years back, and didn't think anything of it. When we got to the campus, everything changed._

 _It was madness. The roads were clogged with cars bumper to bumper as far as I could see, and people were running everywhere. Tents filled every open space available, and the stench of overcrowded people filled the air. I leaned my head out the window of my car and yelled something to the effect of, "What's going on?" A girl in a Pi Phi tank top yelled back that the infections had caused people to evacuate the cities, and some of them came to the campus, thinking no one else would. That would explain all the new-looking SUVs and unloved camping gear: everything was fresh out of the package. However, I also saw quite a few people with older-looking gear, tarps, and kits that seemed well-loved. It looked like people from the less-populated areas needed to stock up on food and ammo, what little there was left, and had got stuck when the fuel ran out. The buildings that were out in the open, so to speak, were pretty badly damaged. Looting had taken its toll on the storefronts, and some of the smaller buildings looked like they had caught fire. The larger ones were fairly intact, especially the dorms, since people seemed more intent on using them for lodging and supplies, what little they could find._

 _We looked around and decided the best thing to do would be to find a parking spot somewhere, anywhere, and set up camp. We decided to sleep in my car in a spot next to the theater. Calling it a spot is an exaggeration; we were boxed in so tight we had to climb in and out through the windows. It managed to fit all three of us, however, and we could sleep in semi-security thanks to locked doors._

 _There was almost no form of order in the area after about a week. The National Guard just up and left us. Said something about orders that they couldn't disobey. Can't say I blame them. If I'd had the chance, I would have bounced too. Their leaving only made things worse, though. Instead of some meager semblance of order, there simply was none. More looting, more destruction, and more violence. Heard a few gunshots in the night. It wasn't something I wanted to investigate. We just locked the doors and hoped for the best._

 _I guess in retrospect it's no surprise that things went the way they did. The crowded conditions only exacerbated the rate that sicknesses spread. Add in the looting, rioting, and general disarray that had slowly enveloped the camp, and there were bound to be a few casualties. With no one policing the bodies and sterilizing them as needed, it was only a matter of time._

 _We woke up one morning to the sounds of panic and mayhem. Not the usual sounds of plundering and vandalism that we had grown so used to, but screams, yells and gunfire. And running. Lots of running. I looked out the window and there were people all running past my car. Around it, over it, they needed to get past. I pulled back the sunroof and poked my head out. There was a crowd (Swarm? Horde?) of NRS infected picking off the people at the rear of the mob. I looked at my friends and they had already started crawling into the trunk through the back seat. I reached down and popped the lip open and dove through the opening._

 _We looked around and decided that, even though the crowd was running in one direction, we should probably head in a new direction to avoid being trampled or bitten. I grabbed the breaker bar in my tool kit, and Scott grabbed the tire iron. Brian took the claw hammer from my other kit; we grabbed our bags, and clambered out the trunk into the crowd._

 _For those of you who have been to a good rock concert, imagine the worst mosh pit possible. Now multiply it by 1,000. It was a mess. We could only move in the direction of the crowd. It was only a few seconds before we got separated. Crowds will do that. This one was awful. People running, people screaming, panicking, and everyone out only for themselves. I knew that if I didn't get into some sort of building, I was gonna get killed fast. I looked around and noticed that there was a large building that looked like a theater of some sort. I pushed my way perpendicular to the crowd and managed to get on the front steps. I ran up and smashed the floor-to-ceiling windows. I had no idea where to go, but I knew where I needed to go._

 _If you're wondering why I went into the theater, let me explain a few things. First off, I was a theater geek in high school and college. This means I know a few things that most people would ignore in terms of these types of buildings. Such as the fact that there is a workshop located very near the primary theater. This workshop would have an armada of tools I could use to better defend myself, or maybe even build some sort of barrier. This is because most scene shops also have a very large amount of raw materials on hand. Tube steel, TIG welders and two-by-sixes are great for barriers. Failing that, I knew that there had to be a fly system in place on at least one stage. A fly system is one of the most secure places in the world, if not one of the most easily supplied. Most can only be accessed by a single ladder, which leads to a platform anywhere from 40 to 80 feet off the ground. Where the ladder passes through the floor is a grate, for safety purposes. It also makes a handy door to prevent someone/something from coming up after you. At the top of the ladder, there are also roughly anywhere from 1 to 2 tons of plates. These plates are 20 lb and 40 lb chunks of pig iron and are used to counterbalance anything put on a bar that holds the lights. This makes them easier to hoist. However, they are also handy to place on the door-grate as a means of blocking anyone from coming up or dropping on anyone below. A 40 lb piece of iron falling 65 feet will go through anything short of concrete. So in short, the perfect place for riding out a storm like this._

 _I ran around the empty halls, looking for something to point me in the right direction. After about 20 minutes, I saw just what I was looking for: a sign reading, "Authorized Personnel Only." This was just what I needed. I opened the door and found myself in a narrow hallway which led, among other places, to the shop. After smashing the window in the door and letting myself in, I gaped around in astonishment. My first thought was, "If only I'd been here under better circumstances…" The place was loaded. A dedicated welding workshop, multiple miter boxes, table- and band-saws, and stacks and stacks of lumber and steel. Had I been back home, I would have been in heaven. After shaking off my astonishment, I quickly glanced around for the office and tool room._

 _Getting in was easier than expected. The tool room was right next to the office, and the keys were in the office itself. I keyed the lock and ran inside. Everything was immaculate and organized. I grabbed a 3-foot crowbar and a ball-peen hammer and ran out of the shop, making sure to remember how to get back just in case._

 _Even though the theater itself was pretty close to the shop, I got lost and somehow wound up in the costume department. I need to get Sissy back there if it hasn't been raided or touched between then and now. She'd go nuts. Bolts of fabric going on and on, thread everywhere, and I think I saw a foot-powered sewing machine in the back somewhere. A lot more specific in nature, but I'd bet they have a sufficient amount that would make the run worthwhile. And the guys could probably use the TIG welder if we got enough power…_

 _But I digress. I managed to find the stage and get up the ladder as fast as I could. As soon as I got to the top, I put around 400 lbs of weights on the gate and sat down on another pile. I quickly took stock of what I had with me, which was as follows:_  
 _1 Jansport backpack_  
 _3 frisbees (one light-up and two regular)_  
 _1 bottle of water (EDC)_  
 _1 granola bar (EDC)_  
 _1 breaker bar_  
 _1 ball-peen hammer_  
 _1 crowbar_  
 _1 SAK (EDC)_  
 _1 folding knife (EDC)_  
 _1 flashlight (EDC)_  
 _Great-Grandmother's Rosary_  
 _The Art of War by Sun Tzu (EDC)_  
 _And the obvious (shirt, shoes, glasses, etc)_

 _In short, I had enough to ride out the stampede, but not much beyond that. Thankfully, we still had power and light, but I didn't think those would last too long. As I sat up there, the heat must have got me because I was feeling pretty sluggish. After a few minutes, I fell asleep._

 _I woke up a few hours later, and my first thought was that it was pretty hot up here. Then I remembered exactly where "up here" was and what had happened. I didn't want to go down just yet, though. I ate my granola bar and drank some water, and sat down to do some reading._

 _I lived like that for a few days. I only came down to find the bathroom or raid a vending machine for supplies. It seemed like no one else thought to make it inside this far, if anyone had made it inside at all. After about 3 days, the power went out. I stayed up there as long as I could, but my flashlight batteries were starting to die and I needed to leave. I packed my stuff, fumbled around with my flashlight and found my way outside._

 _Refuse was everywhere. There was trash, bits and pieces of the jetsam from normal life all around. It looked like a few people had been trampled beyond recognition in the panic. The crowd was gone, and at that moment I didn't think about where they were or why. All I knew was that the area was empty and I needed to capitalize._

 _I looked around for any sign of humanity. Some of the buildings were burned down and smoldering while others were untouched. I went over to the first stable-looking building I saw. It was a tobacconist's shop. I thought to myself, "Self, if there was ever a time for a cigar, this is it." What can I say? I needed to relax and hitting the sauce at a time like this was not a good idea. The place was trashed. Cigars were broken and flattened on the floor, and the smell was overpowering. Shelves were knocked over, the register was in pieces, and there were a few bullet holes in the wall behind the counter. I looked over, but there was no body. What I did find under the counter, however, was more surprising and useful. A travel-sized humidor filled with Maduro No. 20s and a cigar box with a Colt King Cobra inside, along with a full speedloader. I knew how to reload revolvers from what my uncle taught me, so I figured it would give me an edge to be armed. I stuffed the Maduros in my bag, tucked the revolver into my belt, and put all the money I had in my wallet in the cigar box the revolver had been in._

 _I left the store and kept going. After a while I found my way into the dorm block of the university. Being a college student, I knew that dorms can be a wealth of supplies, if they are a little hard to find. Running around in FL in this weather reminded me why I lived farther north. I had about 7 inches of hair at the time, and it was getting matted due to the humidity, and was in the way a lot. I looked through the dorms for a pair of scissors or something similar I could use to remedy the problem. Most of the doors were locked, but the crowbar made short work of any security system in the way._

 _Thank God for co-ed housing. After a door-to-door search for about 20 minutes, I finally found a guy's room with a set of battery-powered hair cutters. A quick trim in front of the mirror and I was able to see much better. It was cooler too. As in, I could actually feel my scalp in the wind._

 _As I finished up, I noticed some movement in the mirror out of the corner of my eye. Spinning around, I pulled the Colt from my waist and pointed it at the door. Standing there was a girl who looked a couple years older than me. The shotgun she had, however, looked a little older. We didn't say anything at first and kind of stared each other down. Finally, she lowered her gun and sighed, asking me what I was doing there. I just looked at her and stated the obvious, "I'm cutting my hair, what are you doing here?" She told me she was scrounging for supplies for her group. I asked what she meant by her "group," and she told me that there was a group of people living in a building a few blocks over. They didn't have many supplies, but figured they could take another person in. I replaced my revolver and told her I'd take her up on her offer._

 _As we left the building, she introduced herself as Ashley, and I asked her what had happened. From what she told me, it seemed that the crowd had been surrounded by the infected. The ones that chased the crowd were separate from a larger group that had met up with the crowd a few miles down the road. Casualties had been heavy, with no survivors from the main group. All the people that had lived had hidden in buildings, similar to what I had done. Now they were grouping together and trying to find supplies. There weren't many left, so those who had lived were coming together in one (relatively) large group. Safety in numbers and all that. Obviously, the area wasn't cleared, and there were still infected roaming around, so we had to be careful. We got within sight of the building that she had described as the area we were going to when we heard some shuffling._

 _We looked around and there were a few of them coming out of the alley to our right, with a few more to our left across a lawn, making about a dozen total. I pulled my pistol as Ashley unshouldered her shotgun. I sighted the lead one coming from the field and pulled the trigger. I wasn't used to the recoil, and my shot went wild. I readjusted and shot again. A torso shot. I took a deep breath, exhaled, held, aimed and squeezed, and the zombie crumpled. Headshot. I relaxed a little and managed to score two more headshots and empty my pistol with the missed rounds._

 _As I was loading my gun, I heard a series of shots ring out from all directions. Apparently the group had positioned security around the perimeter; those who could be spared or move were on guard detail or gathering supplies. After introductions were made, I proceeded to live with the group for a while. We had a small stockpile in addition to what we could find in the buildings, and we managed to make a decent camp, even though the zombies in the area were getting thicker and thicker. In just a few short weeks, they had gone from a minor inconvenience to a major threat. Soon, the crowd was surrounding our building and wouldn't leave. Teams on scavenging runs would come back with less people than when they left, or not at all. Then people started talking about how we should evac out. They didn't have a plan, but they didn't want to stay. I tried to tell them to wait it out, that help would come eventually, that all we had to do was stay inside. They wouldn't listen, and anyone who would have wanted to stay was either already dead or too nervous to speak up._

 _At the time, we thought that maybe the zombies were like us, and had poor eyesight at night or dusk. I decided that if I couldn't convince them, I would help them however I could. I grabbed the biggest nighttime distraction I could, my light-up disc, and winged it out the window as they left, and started firing with one of the rifles they had left me with. I managed to distract some of them with the Frisbee, and take out a few more from the window. It was no use. They barely made it outside the parking lot before the horde got them._

 _I managed to keep myself fed and barricaded in the building while the horde stayed outside. I pretty much ate, smoked the Maduros and waited. While I was in the building I used all my ammo to take out the ones I could. When I first saw the convoy from Sanctuary cruising through, I thought I was hallucinating. Then I saw the flyer, and I knew that if I was gonna live, I had to go there. The rest, as they say, is history._

* * *

You'll see why I included his entry where I did later. It's a hard story for me to read. Chris isn't much older than Rose and just a little younger than David. I keep imagining Rose off at college when something like this went down. I keep wondering what Scott and I would have done, how we would have felt, would we have tried to get to her or been forced to remain where we were for the sake of the other children. I keep wondering how many other parents had to go through that, not just wonder about going through that. Turn of the screw. Ratchet up the nightmares just a little. Push just that much closer to PTSD.

But the day didn't start out too badly … except for the fact that keeping the kids inside didn't work and wound up being more of a nerve-grinding hassle than anything. When we decided to just go ahead and let them out I threatened them with no dinner if I caught any of them without their mask over their mouth and nose. After a couple of them tried to see if I was serious I got tougher. I told them if one of them in a group didn't keep their mask on then the whole group would suffer. I know that was kind of mean but hurray for peer pressure. Every time one of them forgot, one of the others would poke them or in some way make them put it back on.

The smoke we are suffering with isn't visible except as a haze on the horizon; but it's there. On everyone's face covering you can see where their mouth was. It looks like we've been smoking through the cloth. The Big Fire was worse but if this stuff gets any thicker than it already is we are going to be in trouble. We've already had to change to flame-power for the Cooler lens. The hazy sky just doesn't have enough oomph. We've also had to institute water restrictions.

Scott went out to check the water barrels only to find that half of them were empty and the ones that weren't empty were only half full. Same for the "water towers" that we had built by the larger gardens. I should have known that once we hooked up the well to a power source we'd all forget to be as careful as we needed to be. It's like the wood pile; there always seems to be enough … until it all runs out. And we had switched much of our efforts into expansion rather than securing what we already had. I guess we thought there would always be time to catch up.

Scott organized the tweens into harvesting water from the pools, which were also over half empty, and making sure that the covers on the containers that did hold water were firmly in place. We've probably lost more than we should have from evaporation alone. He and David turned the pump on and started filling all the barrels and water containers we have. The problem arose when the batteries ran out before the solar array could recharge them. Strike two for the haze; first the cooler and now the well.

The third strike was when we couldn't get all the various rechargeable solar items to recharge all the way … flashlights, batteries, lamps, car battery charger, etc. Even if we don't see any flames from this fire we're going to have a heck of a problem from the smoke and haze.

Thank goodness for backups, and for backups for our backups. The pedal powered battery rechargers that David built way back when are a Godsend as is the fact that in addition to the solar charged items, each household has at least two wind up lights and a wind up radio or some combination thereof.

The only good thing I can say is that we had finished up the shallow, water-drilled well in our backyard a couple of weeks ago. It operates on a simple hand pump but I don't consider the water potable. It has to be thoroughly treated before its even used for washing hands. The little lean-to they build for the pump will come in handy as well if we start having ash fall.

The well wasn't all that hard to do because the water table in this area is so high. It's very hard water and smells strongly of sulfur but when you've got to have water and have no other potable source to pull from iron and sulfur are negligible issues. A little chlorine and aeration help some with the sulfur and running it through a water filter takes the worst edge off the iron.

It had to be dug close to our existing well because the further away you go from the well the lower the water pressure and given how a jetted well is dug you need all of the pressure you can get. Scott magnified the water pressure a bit with a high pressure water nozzle set on the tightest jet he could adjust to.

We started off thinking that we'd just create a driven well but that was a lot of work and the sand, while easy to drive through, also made it more difficult in some respects. Once Scott, David, and James had pounded the first pipe into the ground – Scott called the pipe a casing I think – they decided to switch to the water jetted method of drilling the well. They attached a type of drill bit looking tip on the end of a piece of pipe. They attached the hose to this pipe. When the water was turned on it looked a little bit like a fireman's highspeed stream. They put the pipe with the water bit attached to it down into the casing and basically it washed the sand out of the way.

It made a horrible mess. Scott was irritated because he was having to do this by the seat of his pants and from instructions we'd handwritten off a forum board years ago. Finally through trial and error we were able to get a stable, clear stream of water at about 40 feet I think he said. Like I said, its not sweet water … but its water that will come up through the hand pump which requires no electricity to operate, just sweat of the brow. And if for the hand pump ever blows out and Scott can't figure out how to fix it, the well is shallow enough that we could use a narrow well-bucket to pull water up.

We added a tarp to the other side of the lean-to to make sure that the ash doesn't blow in and contaminate the hand pump. Glory only knows what is in that ash; I try not and think about that too much.

I think … think … most of the plants I have in the ground right now won't be hurt by a small ash fall. If it is hot ash or it's a heavy ash then we could be in trouble. I couldn't do a whole lot about the corn, it covers to much area, but I ask for and got helpers to cover what we could with the floating fabric.

Angus came back to Sanctuary just in time for lunch, with two deer and three wild pigs for our larder. He also came with news that everything was going great at Aldea. There were some steel storage containers at Telecom Park … right across from the Lettuce Lake Park entrance … and they had decided to go ahead and start bringing them over to the new compound. They also lucked out and there was plenty of furniture that was in reasonable condition in those offices and they took what they wanted and stored it in a couple of the containers. A couple of OSAG members had apparently spotted them and come to investigate what was up. Well, OSAG helped move some of the containers in the morning and Angus said that our group was going to help OSAG move a couple of containers over to their compound in the afternoon.

At lunch I could tell Angus was a bit preoccupied. I knew for sure that something was up when Angus told the kids he couldn't play but asked them to do him a favor and go on to do their chores so he could talk to the adults.

After the kids had reluctantly left the only ones left were adults and older teens. After he was sure the kids had left he looked at Dix and said, "I know you're gonna think I've been at the hooch, but I ain't."

After shaking his head a bit to clear it he continued. "Something is up. The animals are acting off."

Mr. Morris nodded and said, "It's the fire. We saw it before."

"Yeah, that's part of it. But we got animals coming from two different directions and the only thing they want to do is get away. Some are coming basically out of the east, same direction as the fire. But some are coming out of the south, too far west of where we know the fire to be."

Dix gave it some thought and then said, "OK. If that's true we might have two fires or a two pronged fire. But neither one of those would make you say we'd think you'd been drinking."

I really thought for a second that Angus wasn't going to say anything. He looked like he was fighting a losing battle with himself. "Off in the direction of where we've had positive ID for the fire I heard … I heard a … "

When Angus abruptly stop talking James asked, "You heard a what Uncle Angus?"

"I heard a damn roar!"

None of us knew what to make of Angus. He can be a practical joker but this time he wasn't fooling, we all could tell it. And you could tell he hadn't been drinking either.

It was Jack that asked, "Could you describe what it sounded like?"

"I told you it was a damn roar."

"OK, it was a roar but give me something more to work with. Was it a low roar, a high roar, what was the duration, was it the same sound the whole time or was there variations to it?"

Angus looked at him, suspicious that he was being made fun of. "It was low, a … a rumble. It was the same sound but it just sort of started and then faded off."

Jack looked very thoughtful and looked over at Dix who I think was beginning to have his own ideas. "Like something … whatever it was … was moving across the sky? Could you tell its general direction?"

"Aw hell, maybe … maybe … kinda north to south or maybe more northwest to southeast."

That's when Dix went, "Shit! Damnit!"

I wanted to go "excuse the heck out of me but there are ladies present" but a quick look at Scott's serious face said he'd caught it too … whatever "it" was.

Jack is the one that continued on, "When … when I was married … you know, the first time … we didn't have a pot to pee in. Between one thing and another we never were able to afford to buy our own house. We rented, and in some pretty awful neighborhoods. And when our son came along … " Then he sighed and said, "Some of the cheapest places to rent are in the noisiest neighborhoods where no one else wants to live. Anyway, one of the few things that helped when our son was having a bad day was to take him outside. He loved to watch the birds. More than birds though he loved to watch the planes. Sometimes we would even pick houses that were right under flight paths for this very reason. Before he lost the ability to speak altogether he used to play like the planes were dragons and he was a knight. He'd say … listen to 'em roar Daddy … listen to 'em roar!"

Jack was too choked up to continue so while Patricia put her arm around him Scott asked, "Angus, you think that roaring … could it have been a plane? Been so long since I heard one … "

Angus said, "Yeah, yeah it could have been. I'm not sure though. I didn't see anything. Didn't sound like a regular plane … it was a roar, not a buzz."

Dix said, "I would have been surprised if you had seen anything. Especially if it was flying high and fast … above the haze and maybe carrying something to offload. I don't suppose you could tell whether it was a jet or something bigger like a bomber?"

"Hell Dix, don't ask me. It could have been either or neither. I know I heard something and that's all I can say for sure."

One more thing to think about. One more uncomfortable thing to think about.

It was late when the folks that had gone to lay the ground work for Aldea returned. They were in a good mood though tired. From the sound of it they got a lot accomplished since they didn't have to worry about very many pre-existing structures or impeding traffic patterns.

I was on dinner duty again – luck of the draw – and opted to have one of those "a can of everything" stews with some of the fresh venison that Angus had brought in. Mr. Morris and Kevin … with plenty of help from Samuel and a few other folks … butchered the other carcasses and put them in the Cooler. I'll need to process the venison tomorrow. Reba said she is going to make sausage out of the piggies, or at least out of the parts leftover after the hams and shoulders are brined before they get smoked.

I had just started to relax when Dix let out his steam whistle blast. That sent a lot of us running for the Wall with our rifles. By the time I huffed and puffed my way to the top of the closest stairs everyone else was silent and in shock. I pushed passed the folks that have never known what it was like to be short and then just stood there like the rest of them.

You should have seen it. It looked like Noah had let the doors open and all the animals were heading out and away at the fastest clip they could go. The only fights that broke out was when an animal slowed down or got in the way of the one behind it, then the only energy they had to spare was for a snarl or a snap to get 'em moving again. It was eerie; just like what happened before the Big Fire … and before the Big Horde. Thoughts of the Big Horde had me running down the stairs and to the nearest bush. I threw up everything I'd eaten at dinner.

It still sometimes catches me like that. I'll be walking along and then I'm back up in the attic with Johnnie and Bubby. The smell, the claustrophobia … the terror. Scott came down and wiped my face with a damp handkerchief. He knows. He's held me often enough when the terrors come in the middle of the night.

There wasn't a whole lot of need to talk. Whether it's a fire or a horde, whatever is coming is big enough and bad enough to spook all the animals in its wake. We've got extra guards on the Wall. Everyone is staying close to home tomorrow and we are going to prepare for what we can.

The men brought a lot of animals down, but there was no joy in it. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. The worst was that it never stopped the parade. None of the animals stopped to feed on their fallen comrades. They all just kept moving, predator and prey alike … moving north at a steady and unceasing pace … moving away … as far away as they could get.


	164. Day 205 or 206

**Day 205 or 206 (Wednesday/Thursday) – hard to tell which in the dark**

Things are starting to run together. It's deep into the night, so it's either the night of day 205 or the early morning of day 206.

Yesterday … or Tuesday … was just the start of it. While the men were hunting and putting extra food in the pantry Dix and Matlock when to the radio shack to talk to OSAG and hear if anyone else was experiencing what was going on. No sooner had Dix powered up the radio than everyone could hear Steve's group broadcasting incoming reports from survivor groups all over the eastern part of Tampa Bay about peculiar acting animals.

At first it appeared that the fire was ringing the whole Bay area. Animals from all over were heading north any way they could get there. Some small groups were heading to the shore with anything that would float in case they needed to escape with flames or NRS infected corpses. The animals were funneling up out of the south along US41 and US301 as well as out of the east along SR60. The animals out of the east could be explained by the fires that appeared to be heading north, roughly tracking between US98 and SR37 between Plant City and Lakeland. A wind change has the fire widening its corridor and heading NNW into Brandon which is terrible news.

There are lots of little survivor groups throughout that region according to Charlene. Few are as big as Sanctuary or OSAG unless they were raiders or wagon trains heading north trying to get out of the state; but had you pooled them all together she said you could have easily have three or four hundred people. I never would have guessed. These days people hide and keep to themselves as much as possible. I suppose it makes them feel safer but now, who knows what will happen to those people. Where will they go? There is no way of telling right now if they've even escaped the fire.

About three o'clock in the morning most of the animal traffic petered out. It became eerily quiet. Even the crickets and frogs seemed to have gone to ground, or tree, or where ever it is those critters go for safety. No one was really sleeping very hard. The night was cool without being cold and the bugs weren't too bad. People pretty much sprawled where they could find a flat piece up off the ground.

Cease brought Melody and the kids over and asked if it was alright if they stayed with us until they figured out what was going on. He had to be on guard duty until further notice and he didn't to leave Melody and the kids alone. I said sure, the more the merrier. Then McElroy shows up with Rhonda and Jack shows up with Patricia and Samuel. I was waiting for Nick to bring Terra over when Rilla ran over and asked if Rose and Melody would please get to the clinic because Terra's water had broken and she was beginning to get uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable … I asked Rilla if she had thrown anything at Ski yet and got one of the few smiles I've seen since. She said, "Not yet but it was a near thing when she heard him grumbling about handing out corks to Rhonda and Patricia." I have hopes that Ski will actually live to a ripe old age … not high hopes if he doesn't learn to curb his tongue … but hopefully Rilla will teach him that if he is going to talk like that that it isn't advisable to do it when there are potential missiles lying around for his patients to use.

I dozed a bit off and on but woke up for good when Bekah came and got me because Sarah and Sis were coughing in their sleep. Once I was awake I noticed the smell. I went around closing windows that we could stand to have closed and for those that we needed for ventilation I hung damp clothes over the openings. It wasn't a perfect solution but it helped some.

It was close enough to 5 AM that it was time for me to be up anyway. I stepped outside to the obvious smell of heavy smoke. James was coming my way and when I asked him how close the fire was he said that it was still several miles to the east of I75, it's just that it is, by all reports, a huge fire. The wind had died down so the smoke was settling everywhere. I then asked him if anyone had started breakfast. Never ask a teenage boy about food … they always seem to be hungry.

I popped my head in at the clinic and Rose told me that Terra was doing fine. Her contractions were still very irregular, they'd get to be every five or six minutes apart and then she'd go ten to twelve minutes between contractions. This is Terra's first baby so her body will take longer to find the rhythm of labor. I don't know for sure why the more children you have the shorter your labor seems to get but I guess its something along the lines of "practice makes perfect." Unless you are like me and need medical intervention for pregnancies. Terra had a unique confidence about her though. After assuring myself that Terra was fine Rose grabbed my arm and said, "Mom, Terra's fine, but do you have anything that isn't a narcotic for Ski and Nick? Um … they aren't doing too well."

I tried not to grin. I could understand Nick's nerves; he was about to become a father. Waleski on the other hand was a pure hoot. I caught a glimpse of him in the former kitchen turned pharmacy. He was white as a ghost. Rilla was grinning at him and he was rolling his eyes and trying hard not to show his bride just how shaky he was. When I overheard her say, "Ski, if you are this bad now, what are you going to be like when I get pregnant?" and then watched the green slowly climb up poor Ski's face all I could do was sputter "Chamomile" and exit the scene before I started laughing outright.

Looking back it brings a smile to my face … unlike the rest of the day.

I never found out who was supposed to have been on meal duty today. I'm not even sure that a new caper chart had been made. But I had enough people from my family that needed to be fed that I just decided to make a great big batch of whatever came to hand. Samuel, who was already scrounging for a morning meal, I sent over to the smoke house to bring one of the hams we had hanging in there. My kids had all tumbled out of the bed at James' insistence and were standing around looking at me so I set them to work. After I had opened a couple of #10 cans of potatoes and drained them, I had Bekah use the liquid to stir up several batches of biscuits. I checked to make sure the coffee drinkers hadn't used up all the wood in the woodbox overnight. There was just enough to get the oven warm again. While Bekah and the littles rolled biscuit dough out and cut it into shapes I had my Sarah and Samuel slice up the ham.

Reba, who had obviously spent a sleepless night, brought me the morning's egg collection and Claire wasn't far behind with two huge pitchers of ice cold milk. After Johnnie's pleading I even whipped up a bit of cheese sauce (using powdered cheese). And I used the drippings from the fried ham to make red eye gravy. I also made a pretty good sized batch of grits using some of the butter that had set up overnight in the Cooler.

Biscuits, scrambled eggs, fried ham, grits and home fries. I was glad I had made something that would really stick to everyone's ribs. I just wish everyone had been able to enjoy it more. Nerves were taught as drum skins and hardly anyone talked as they shoveled mouthful after mouthful so that they could get back to whatever they were doing.

I had the kids do all the breakfast clean up and I headed over to the garden. So far so good, and despite what went on later in the day I still think the garden will be OK. Even the larger fields of corn I've planted.

It was mid-morning when Steve put out the first broadcast that said he was losing contact with a lot of his callers and asking if anyone knew what was going on. Everyone to the south was dropping from the airwaves. Then just as I was about to serve up a lunch of rice and beans OSAG received their first panicked call about a horde. The call didn't even last 15 seconds.

Then there was another, this one longer, saying that smoke was heavy, that they were coming out of the smoke … then a few shots could be heard in the background and the sound of something breaking and then that call too was lost.

Years ago Scott and I had made the mistake of watching the movie "The Fog" after a late dinner of deep dish pizza. The movie wasn't all that great; it was a remake and while the special effects were definitely an improvement over the original the story had lost some of its zing. Yeah … indigestion induced nightmares but the zing right back into the story. For obvious reasons the broadcast brought up the nearly week-long series of nightmares I suffered. I quickly looked to the sky and while everything was definitely gray and hazy … no smog was rolling across the land.

We all went into action. The large vehicles that we normally leave parked outside of the Wall were laboriously brought inside; a true challenge because it meant moving some of our road security around. Every large container that wasn't in use was filed to the top with water and transferred to locations around the inside of the compound in case we had to put out spot fires. We made doubly sure that we had enough potable drinking water for the whole compound that would last for at least a week. Angus borrowed James and Samuel and ran up to the firehouse quickly and brought back all of his goodies from there. He also brought Juicer through the front gate. I'm glad we left enough clearance to allow the higher profile vehicles to come in.

The women and I baked bread, crackers, and nutritionally dense snack bars all afternoon and divided them up between our various fall back locations inside of easy to carry tubs. Most of what was baked was put into our house which remains the fall back position of last resort. I had the girls fix hundreds of flour tortillas and I stacked them in meal sized amounts and put them in the cooler. We fixed Trapper's bread that is heavy and full of dried fruit. We fixed Pony Express Bread that is dense and will last a long time, not to mention that it travels well. I also fixed Logan bread; another dense bread that is heavily spiced and sweetened with applesauce, honey, and molasses.

While the oven was in use we made fried pies using cast iron skillets and canned pie fillings. Over a fire I hung a cauldron of stew that wound up being dinner served over one of the largest batches of ramen noodles I think I've ever made. I took the leftover beans from lunch and made bean bread that is cooked by dropping dumplings sized balls of the dough into boiling water. Saen showed the younger girls how to make this coconut candy that was outrageously good. She also had them made some tamarind candy. Scott almost ate too much of that last one; he loves tamarindo drink and the tamarind candy was very similar in taste.

I bagged up all of the jerky that had finished drying and sealed it in airtight bags and put it with the breads in each location. Then I started on dried drink mixes and instant teas making sure that each location also had water, fuel, and mugs that could be used to make coffee, tea, or whatever form you wanted to take your caffeine in.

I set up three propane burners and, against common sense perhaps, got all three of my larger pressure canners going so that we weren't totally dependent on the cooler remaining viable to preserve all the meat the men had brought down during Noah's Parade.

Amazingly enough I didn't have a bit of trouble with the kids. They saw what was going on and helped. The only one that wasn't around was Laura. She had become so agitated upon hearing that a large horde might be on its way that Dante' and Tina had pleaded with Waleski to give her a sedative, which he did, though reluctantly.

Right as Laura was falling asleep in the back room of the clinic, a cry was heard in the room that had been set up as the birthing center. Terra and Nick are now the proud parents of a little boy they've named Kai. He's good sized all things considered, right around 7 lbs. 14 oz. and 21" long. Mother and babe are doing fine though both have slept off and on for the remainder of the day. Nick, as exhausted as he was, helped Waleski and the girls secure the clinic as much as possible. The clinic is the second most defensible building in Sanctuary as Scott long ago made sure that it had its own set of security shutters and reinforced, metal doors and door frames. For his part, Ski directed the girls to make up first aid kits that were put with the tubs of food at each location and added a surgical kit to the one at our house.

I think Waleski would have preferred if Rilla and Ty were also at our house but she was insistent on staying with her family who had all piled into Kevin and Betty's place for the duration. The Morris family are no slackers and they had already installed their own fortifications and had them up and in place. That left Scott and David more time to help everyone else. That is, after they had put the heavy duty metal sheeting over all the entrances of our food storehouse.

There are two places that our community could be seriously hurt if they get hit; the food storehouse and the smokehouse. The Cooler is lovely but if we made one, we can make another and I've processed nearly everything that can be processed out of there. The only thing that remain in there are jugs of drinks I have cooling, the fresh sausage that we don't have room to smoke just yet, and some of the breads. What I didn't can was put into the smokehouse by Mr. Morris.

I was leaning against a tree, catching my breath before heading on to the next task when a call went up from a guard in the southwest tower. I was convinced that the horde or the fire, but that wasn't it at all. Frankly though, I'm not sure it's any better.

They make me feel defensive, like we need to somehow justify all that we've had to do to survive. I don't know if they are just programmed to be that self-righteous or if they are just that naive. We are survivors and we've done our best to better the world we live in not make it worse. Where do they get off looking down their nose at us? Especially her.

When the signal came down from the tower the adrenaline rush was incredible. I looked around and started gathering my chicks and everyone else's as well and starting sending to their nests. Then I saw some of the men run to the front gate house. I took a deep breath and thought "refugees."

This would be the first test of our new gatehouse system. The first real test I mean. There couldn't have been many of them. I heard the sound of a small engine, I thought truck engine at the time. Then the men at the top of the gatehouse opened the exterior gates with the pulley and slide mechanism that Scott had managed to come up with. Then the exterior gate was shut.

All here in the compound were silent, straining to hear what was going on. Even with everything so quiet it was still hard to catch what Matlock and Dix were saying to the people below the murder holes in the gate house. I caught a few swear words from Dix and Matlock, from my oddly angled observation point, looked right hacked off. Their reaction confused me a bit. It must have been a big enough deal for them to allow them through the exterior gates … traders or peddlers wouldn't have made it that far. But something was up if they didn't allow them in any further. Then the sound of a shot ringing out, echoing in the confining space between the inner and outer gate, jacked up everyone's pucker factor. Another 15 minutes passed before Dix and Matlock came down and stood at the ready while the main interior gates were unlocked and slid open.

Out walked six black-clad figures with their hands clasped above their head. From the sidelines I could just see a seventh figure, also in black, on the ground beside a … well, at the time it looked to me like a black humvee with a camper type of thing on the back. I've since found out it is the NRSC version of a humvee communication vehicle.

I hoped they were roasting in those black uniforms. I know it was rather ungallant of me but I couldn't help but snicker a bit at the large sweat stains they all had under their arms and across their backs. It's not that I hold a personal grudge against individual members of the NRSC but it's awful hard to forget how they treated us back in August and how they basically cut Florida off from the rest of the country. My rational side says that had I been in their shoes I may very well have done the same thing but I keep imagining I would have found some way to lighten the burden of the people who were left behind. Supply drops, civilian evacuation points, something.

After the four men and two women were searched, their vehicle was searched and then driven into the compound so that the gate could be re-secured. Samuel ran by and straight to the clinic; within moments Waleski had come out with his kit. He looked pale which I at first attributed to helping Terra and dealing with Laura. He shut the clinic door but instead of heading straight for the NRSC folks he looked around and then came over to me. His mouth was set in a tight line and it took clearing his throat twice before he could get anything out.

He asked if I would lend him a hand with the NRSC. He'd set the girls and Rilla some tasks in the clinic so they could be close at hand for Terra and Tina who was watching a very groggy Laura. I said I'd do what I could, of course. What he said next puzzled me, "It's like some damn sappy movie."

Well, it puzzled me until I got close enough to really make out the faces of our new "guests." Holy crap!

Talk about a blast from the past. Junie. Now I understand Waleski's reference to sappy movies. Lover leaves, probably never to be heard from again under less than desirable conditions. Lover left behind eventually gets their life back together, gets over their heartbreak, falls in love again, and starts new life. Right after some commitment or other big deal, old lover returns. Talk about cliché.

But the look on Junie's face didn't leave me the feeling that she was happy to see us. As a matter of fact as I helped Waleski treat the relatively minor injuries that every member of that patrol had suffered, I listened to Matlock and Dix question her and the rest of that group. Junie's answers left me in no doubt that returning to Sanctuary was the last thing she wanted to do and in fact only did so due to the extreme threat to her own life. You know, I'm not fond of swearing but particular word springs to mind … Bitch!

And you, dear reader, can have no way of understanding … not in your future and hopefully secure lives … understand how we felt upon hearing what was going on. We were on the inside, doing our best to survive day to day. They were observing from the outside, like scientists studying a particularly virulent bug.

First, the NRSC basically runs everything these days. Well, I suspect not everything or they wouldn't have to bring to brook so much rough stuff. Free people, free to choose, will generally prove to abide by law and order that is just and reasonably fair. People who feel unjustly constrained will act out with greater and greater force. That's the state that our country currently exists in; strict martial law enacted by an appointed rather than elected body, supported by a quasi-governmental agency from whom the supposedly "fairly appointed" new leaders came from. A snake eating its tail.

The NRSC controls the government now rather than the other way around. The NRSC troops provide protection for government officials and lead the "national planning" exercises. The regular US military and the remaining National Guard troops are the cannon fodder.

There are breakaway factions of the government as well as the US Military but our NRSC group didn't seem to take them very seriously. As a matter of fact they were quite scornful of them, calling them no better than some of the "survivor groups" mucking around in the quarantine zones.

While talking to these blowhards I frequently got the sensation of biting on tinfoil or fingernails across a blackboard. Their indoctrination to their employer was complete. I hated how easy it was to compare them in my mind to the SS of World War II. Another cliché perhaps, but this one all too real for us. And the black uniforms certainly didn't help.

I asked Junie how her shoulder was and she got a closed look on her face. She finally responded that she had been cut from the military personnel rosters. Then added, out of self-defense or perhaps spite, that she went into communications with the NRSC because she'd had no choice but that their doctor's told her despite the "poor care" she received after the initial injury they would be able to fix most of the damage after she had earned enough credits to qualify for the procedure.

Apparently "earning credits" is what had her back in Florida. You got extra points for serving in the quarantine zones; sort of a hazardous duty bonus. Her prior experience in Florida earned her a higher rank in the communication patrol she was in.

But enough of this personal touchy-feely stuff, what I want to write about is how the fire, the horde, and these nuckleheads are all connected.

See it all started out innocently enough. The NRSC … or at least its personnel … isn't all bad. I may not like their tactics but I'm sure most of them, at least at the lower rungs of their organization, really believe they are working towards the greater good against a monstrous enemy of the human species. Supposedly they were trying to find ways to knock the number of infected corpses down to a more manageable level until a "cure" or preventative could be found.

The only known, 100% positive "cure" is destruction of the infected brain. Enter middle-management thinking. Individual destruction of each corpse would be a very labor and resource intensive program. It would not be "cost effective." Insurance costs would be hell as well so go back to the drawing board and find us a better plan.

Next came the realization by the NRSC's research branch that individual infected corpses were easy to dispose of. While they were dangerous in a confrontation they were still easy to sanitize for a prepared opponent. Problems begin to arise when you get a higher infected population. It's like fighting a battle on too many fronts. It's not that the individual infecteds are any more dangerous, it's that they can quickly overrun existing defenses.

But then to their horror … and this has apparently been kept from the general public … at some point when enough infected get together you get a "school of fish" effect. There doesn't appear to be any true intelligence to it nor does the behavior appear to be linked to any mutation of the original NRS virus. The point … as yet unquantifiable using current research data … has more to do with group make up than number of zombies. It takes quite a few plain 'ol zombies to create a "school" of zombies; what we would call shambler groups. However, if you add in a runner, climber, or other "non-standard" zombie you lower the number of infecteds needed to get the "school" effect.

Even worse was the discovery that if you get a large enough "school" of zombies they appear to develop a "hive mentality." Again, there is no true intelligence, no change in the NRS virus itself but somehow the way the zombies interact within the group and with the environment they are in changes. What the NRSC calls a "hive" we call a large horde. The smaller hordes correspond to what they call "schools of infected."

Having that information is good but some Einstein thought they could use it to bring the zombies together to make it more "cost effective" and give them a more constructive opportunity to destroy large numbers of infected corpses with a single mission or program. Their test case was the island that Newport, RI sits on. Using simple techniques they "herded" the zombies to one end of the island where they were sanitized en mass.

Their next two experiments involved the island of the Dominican Republic/Haiti and on Cuba. In the DR/Haiti case they ran into problems with the mountains that separate the two countries that share the same small island. In Cuba they gained more experience in turning large groups of zombies, guiding them in the direction they wanted them to go. That mission involved herding a hive of infecteds from one end of the island to the other and then back again; doing this several times to gain more data on hive movement. They were marginally successful on both of these missions and learned that rather than wasting bombs and ammunition that they could just use … you guessed it, fire.

Florida is their first attempt at herding truly large numbers of zombies to a central sanitization area. It sticks out into the Gulf of Mexico and Atlantic water ways setting it apart from the rest of the USA. The NRSC found that submersion in water increases the rate of decay to near normal of NRS infected corpses. This is significant because once the soft tissues decay water will quickly enter the skull and destroy the NRS receptors, incapacitating the infected long enough for decay to destroy the brain. Florida is surrounded by water on three sides so there is no worry that a zombie will swim (or walk) across the sediment floor to come out on another shore and start attacking there. The state line where Florida is attached received a huge build up of troops to keep any infecteds from escaping that way.

They started by herding small numbers of zombies out of the Miami area. The one factor that the planners of this fiasco failed to take into account was the drought this state has been suffering through off and on for several years now and that they decided to start this mission during one of the driest times of year. And, unlike in their other three test programs, Florida has a large area given over to development. The small fires in Miami quickly got out of control; from reports it did not even take a single day before they had raging, wind-driven infernos using all of the decaying flotsam of the cities in its path to fuel itself into a monster every bit as deadly as the hive the NRSC had created by artificially pushing large numbers of zombies together.

Once started, no one wanted to stop. It was all or nothing. They won big or they failed miserably; there was no "start over and come back another day" because some much was riding on the results of this mission. The NRSC needed this win to prove to the people of the Central Zone that they knew what they were doing and were capable of returning them to their former lives.

The idea was to bring the zombies to the Tampa Bay area and destroy them all here, by bombing and by driving them into the Bay. Foot soldiers would pick off the stragglers that got away.

The problem is that the fire became so smoky that it prevented the NRSC reconnaissance from being able to fully monitor the hive's progress. The hive overshot the planned turning point designated by the NRSC and the fire prevented the NRSC from adjusting their plans quickly enough. Junie's patrol group was cut off from their pick up point by the fire. Then they ran into the forerunners of the hive and then into survivors who were less than happy to see the NRSC; feeling abandoned those that were supposed to have protected them.

They got separated from the other vehicle in their patrol. They were down one man and another began showing signs of infection … whether by NRS or something else they didn't determine for sure until they reached Sanctuary.

Dix wanted to know if she had revealed Sanctuary's location and when. Junie rolled her eyes in complete disrespect to her former commanding officer and told him that Sanctuary's location had been known all along. Drone planes have been used to map survivor compounds and encampments. The NRSC has also been monitoring all radio frequencies. That was a bit of a blow to some people but really, what did we expect?

We've corralled the NRSC people into one of the vacant houses, not that there are all that many that are habitable. It's not real comfy but it should keep them safe for the time being … the question is safe from whom? The zombies or survivors that are feeling a tad on the vindictive side?

I don't know how to feel about them. They are little more than hamsters in a wheel, firmly caged, looking busy for their organization … but they aren't really going anywhere. They are just keeping busy; not producing anything. They are survivors in a way as well. Luck of the draw that they weren't in a quarantine zone when things went crazy. Why should I hold it against them just because they landed in a free zone and I landed in a quarantined zone? How would I feel if our positions were reversed?

On the other hand they are supporting what appears to be a corrupt and dictatorial regime operating under the guise of martial law for the safety of all. They are just following orders, but they know the potential consequences of those orders. Who knows how many the fire has already killed? Who knows how many have been killed by this artificially created super hive that would have otherwise survived under "normal" zombie conditions?

I haven't really had too much time to ruminate on those points. About thirty minutes have we had locked them in the building and made sure they didn't have anything capable of removing the cast iron security bars from the windows and doors, the smoke began to get significantly heavier.

Reports being forwarded to OSAG and broadcast for general consumption of the public said the fire was still several miles east of I75. A survivor caravan passing the intersection of Knights Griffin Rd and SR39 reported being able to see a glow to the north east but hoped that they'd be able to outrun it going straight north.

Scott's concern was that the "glow" was NE and not just east; that could mean that the fire was turning westward. That's not to be unexpected because there is a windy corridor that runs along SR54; the same east – west travel way that can be followed all the way out to the west coast of Florida. That's where our crew first encountered some of the pirates that later made the Raid on Sanctuary. That seems so long ago but it was only about seven weeks. So much has happened since then that it is hard to believe.

One of the equipment pieces that we'd been collecting as we found them was N100 respirators and other things that help take the edge off of dealing with sanitized corpses. We handed them out to all of the Wall guards as well as to any other adults that had to be outside. Those that didn't have to be outside were instructed to remain indoors and to prepare as best they could for several different scenarios.

Of most immediate concern is a large "hive" or super horde. That requires a bug-in and basically we will be under siege for the duration of such an event. The next major event would be a fire. If its like the Big Fire we will get through it with just a little crispiness around the edges. We'll have to have crews at stand by to avoid spot fires from drifting hot ash or exploding debris being dropped inside the compound. If the fire overtakes our compound we may be looking at an emergency bug out but I'm not sure, given the size of our group, how we would accomplish that without running into further problems. Or worse, we could wind up having to deal with a combination of disasters … hive and fire … at the same time. All we can do right now is remain flexible and at maximum readiness.

Charlene, bless her, has given me the freedom to do what I can to help. She has taken on the responsibility of watching the younger children, the same position that Rose once held. But Rose and Melody are at the clinic preparing as much of our medical gear to go as we can afford to take in a bug out.

The smoke became so noxious by what would have been dinner time that cooking simply wasn't an option. When I came home to try and figure out what to feed my family, I found Charlene already had things well in hand.

James, David, and Scott lay on the floor completely soot streaked from head to toe except for a clean spot that encompassed their nose and mouth. They were only slightly less dirty around there eyes where they had been wearing goggles. The younger kids were fanning them, trying to give them fresh air … relatively fresh air. Charlene had laid dampened cloths everywhere she could think of and even hung a dampened curtain across the carport door to try and minimize the amount of smoke that came in when someone entered the house.

I was filthy myself but I still gave her a hug and gratefully accepted the mug of tea she handed me. My eyes flew open in pleasure when I realized she had gone to the trouble of brewing tea rather than using instant. The strong, sweet, lemony liquid was perfect in my parched mouth. A few swallows and I was able to clear the gunk from my throat as well.

Not only was there tea to drink she'd made tuna fish sandwiches and hardboiled eggs using some of the things I had shown her I kept the kitchen stocked with. She said that she would have cooked a full meal but that she was trying to go easy on the wood box that sat out on the lanai which was only half full.

I could have kicked myself. Johnnie and Bubby were normally in charge of filling the wood box. If they hadn't been allowed outside how were they supposed to have done the job? After asking Charlene when the men were due back on duty and finding they had about two more hours I told her to let them sleep and that I would fetch the wood. I wanted it brought in but asked that she find an out of the way place for it so no one would trip over it in the dark. The house might get full again.

I told Bekah and my Sarah to keep all of the rechargeables wound up and to take turns riding the pedal powered recharger until all of our car batteries out in the lean to were fully charged. I was gratified to find out that they had already done this. One less thing for me to keep track of.

As I walked out to the wood pile I tried really hard not to notice how fetid the smoke smelled. That wasn't just wood and greenery burning. The few individual smells I could pick out included tar, rubber and vinyl, the dark oily smell you get when you burn cars, and some kind of poisonous smell like burning oleander bushes or lead-based paint. What worried me was that if I could smell it that my mask might not be doing the job I hoped it was doing.

After the wood box was filled and moved inside I went back to the food storehouse and checked to make sure that the dampened cloths that I had put in the window cracks and at the base of the doorways were working. We definitely do not need noxious and potentially poisonous smoke getting into our food stores.

When I got there I was disturbed to find the door had been left ajar. I walked in and got clunked on the back by someone who had been aiming at my head, but missed.

My opponent was not the first person to have underestimated me in the last six or seven months. Rather than doing the smart thing and immediately correcting their aim and following through with another attack they assumed that my going down meant that I was disabled and disarmed.

Nope. I've played this game before.

Once Scott had started to carry a mallet and spike around with him for sanitizing disabled infecteds many of us began to follow suit, including me. It's a rather messy but effective tool. Scott had even adjusted a leather tool belt to hold my gadgets and gizmos that I used most frequently. It had stopped me from laying them down and then forgetting where I put them. Especially my pistol … but it wasn't my pistol that I grabbed for. It was dark in the storehouse with all the windows covered and not being able to aim appropriately I didn't want to take out any of our food stuffs.

As I went down the metal-headed mallet easily lifted from its cradle hook and fitted into my hand. Once I was into a crouch I kicked off and added my strength to increase the velocity of the heavy weight that was acting as an extension of my arm. It didn't matter what I hit, it was going to do some damage.

But as luck would have it – mine and not my assailant's – the head of the mallet struck the outside of her left knee. The sound of mallet hitting flesh and the resulting crack and pop has proven to be nauseatingly memorable. For both of us.

Junie went down in so much pain she wasn't even able to scream. Before I had time to regret it, I kicked her in the head and knocked her out. I was then grabbed from behind across my upper arms. Moving my face out of the potential splatter I got a good grip on the end of the mallet handle and bending my elbows swung it up with all the power I could. I was unceremoniously released.

I turned, ready for the next opponent and came face to face with a soot-streaked angle of death, "Dammit darlin' ... how the hell do you keep finding this kind of trouble!"

As I tried to explain to Scott while my nose was firmly smashed up against his chest, it wasn't my fault. I just had this karmic bulls-eye painted on me and there simply wasn't anything to do about it. I tried to tell him I had come back over to check behind myself and thought someone else had left the door open. And besides, I thought the NRSC crowd had been firmly locked up. He wasn't in the mood to be placated and would probably kicked Junie himself if he had been any less of what I had always defined as "a real man."

It turns out that NRSC personnel that operate within the quarantine zones are actually trained on escaping from locked buildings … or gaining entrance to locked buildings. I guess your perspective depends on which side of the door you are on.

The six were now down to three. Once they had escaped they had broken down into three teams. Junie and her partner had been sent to gather food supplies. Two of them had headed up to the guard tower to acquire weapons and the last two were searching for a vehicle to steal. They were desperate to escape and it wasn't because they feared us.

Well, Junie is incapacitated but not dead. The same couldn't be said of her partner. My mallet gave the man a lethal lobotomy. I'll live with it. The two that had been searching the vehicles had met three of our resident weapons … Angus, Glenn, and Mayhem. Matlock was barely in time to stop Jim and some of the other men from tossing the two that had tried to get weapons out of the guard station and over the Wall. It's not that he was giving them clemency; he wanted them for further interrogation.

One of the remaining NRSC was a real hard case; totally devoted to his cause, willing to die for it, and absolutely refused to talk. Junie was useless as she was in too much pain to be coherent and Dix and Matlock were refusing to allow Waleski to give her anything for the pain. The last man … kid … was barely eighteen. If I had to guess he wasn't even that but had lied to join up for the three square meals a day and other perks that the recruiters had promised.

All three were separated from one another. I don't know why the men were so fixated on the grumpy sergeant. They obviously had some sort of grudge and were determined to break him. I thought, "Good luck with that." Junie would have been nearly as bad. So … what's a harmless, motherly type to do? I focused on breaking the kid, that's what.

I know I should be at least a little bit ashamed at manipulating the kid like I did … but I'm not. I didn't hit him. I didn't strike or touch him in any way. In fact, all it took was understanding and a little emotional nudging by asking him about home and family and asking how he got mixed up with these "ruffians" when he seemed so nice and reasonable. In the end he broke like a Faberge egg dropped on concrete and thanked me the entire time.

After getting his story and rewarding him with food and some clean cloths to wash his face with, I went over to building where the men were "talking" to the NRSC sergeant. I was irritated enough with what I saw that I was a little more self-righteous than I meant to be. "If y'all are done playing Rambo, maybe you'd like to see the map I drew and find out what we've got coming at us." Then I stalked off to the radio shack, not really certain that anyone was going to follow me.

Scott was … well, not happy kind of describes his particular response to me talking to the little NRSC boy. As soon as he wound down a bit I apologized … easier to do than listening to another lecture … and asked if they wanted to hear the information I got out of the kid or not.

Basically the way it goes is this: Once the original planned turning point was missed the NRSC strategists turned to their meteorological staff to try and estimate what path the fire was most likely to take based on wind speed and direction. The answer was that the fire would curve to the west at some point around Zephyrhills and follow the land corridor between SR54 and SR52 and head west with a dead on course for New Port Richey.

The size of the fire was larger than they had predicted and the smoke extended to both coasts of the state making tracking the fire by air very difficult. That's what Junie's patrol was really doing. They were tracking the hive and the fire and relaying the information to ships accord off the coast in the Gulf of Mexico.

The next part is what is badly worrisome for us. The NRSC plans to use the fire to cut off the exit for the hive. As soon as the NRSC command is sure that the hive is contained with legs of the "L" made by the fire they are going to choose tactics that will heard the hive towards the coast and into the Gulf. They've have set up buoys and underwater nets that will prevent the corpses from going too far beyond a certain depth and location. After a week they will begin dragging those nets and gathering up the now decayed and naturally sanitized corpses.

I can actually see some logic to driving the infecteds to a watery sanitation. Less danger to uninfected humans using far fewer resources that are apparently in very short supply in the free zones. Even the NRSC has to buy much of their ammo and supplies on the black market. But, we don't know for sure how they are going to drive the zombies to the coast. We've already seen how poorly their fire method works. The boy … "just call me Jamie" … said they had jets on carriers loaded with bombs that could be dropped to "guide" the hive. They could use sound machines to "lure" the hive to the coast. There is even the possibility of heavily armored land craft being used to literally push the back of the hive to the water's edge. We just don't know. Junie's patrol lost communication before the final plans were announced.

So now we wait. The Wall guards are reporting ever increasing numbers of shamblers moving through the area, not stopping but making a beeline to the northwest. No ragers or other non-standard zombies among them yet but we expect by the time daylight arrives to have seen at least a few. OSAG is still receiving and transmitting reports but for how long I don't know. They've barricaded themselves as best they can and moved most of their gear and personnel to the upper floors of their location; I just hope it is enough.

This reminds me that I need to write down what Jamie told me about what the research has revealed about how the different types of zombies are formed but I'll do it on my next break. Right now I need to catch a little shut eye before I go on duty.


	165. Day 206

**Day 206 (Thursday) – February 22**

I'm really, really tired. The smoke is horrible. But in a way it … it makes it easier too. The haze hides the worst of the nightmares. This day has been pretty bad.

The sun never really came up. We knew it was up there but it only lessened the gloom; didn't or couldn't really penetrate the dense smoke that now constantly wafts across the landscape. Everything just became a lighter shade of gray in an already washed out color scheme. We haven't had much ash, the actual flames are still far off, at least I hope so.

Just because our house is centrally located Dix begged a favor. He asked if we could set up our carport as a station that people could come and go from for food and drink. We had closed it in so long ago that it was more like a box than a carport, now used more as an extension of our living space than as a house for a vehicle. To deal with the open end I attached old shower curtains that had been taped together with that silver tape Scott used to use on AC duct work onto the outside of the carport opening. On the inside side of the opening I hung several layers of sheets that I tried to keep somewhat damp. I couldn't make them too wet or they would get so heavy they would pull the wire down that I had strung to hold them. Damp though they seemed to catch most of the smoke that was let in by people going in and out.

Scott was busy so that David had to lend me a hand by cutting a hole in a piece of scrap plywood that would then inside the single outside. I used it to feed out the exhaust pipe of the wood stove that I moved into the space. For light I installed some of those little LED tap lights in a pattern across the ceiling. I kept the kids busy making sure all of our rechargeable batteries were ready if and when necessary. It wasn't a perfect solution, even with the tap lights and smoke barriers it was dim and a big rank, but it was a thousand percent better than trying to keep something going at the communal kitchen or at the dining hall.

With the first pot of coffee and tea that I served came the report of the first Rager sighting. And then another. And then yet another. The guards also started seeing the other non-standard zombie types in with the groups of Shamblers. So far there wasn't any significant interest in Sanctuary. One Rager turned abruptly and attacked one of the wooden telephone poles that is the skin of the Wall, but after a moment lost interest. Using a pair of binoculars, the guard reported that he left some teeth behind in the wood. We'll have to be careful of contamination for a while.

And to go along with the bad news outside came bad news from inside. Our animals started having trouble breathing. Everyone that could be spared helped to round them up out of the large pasture and put them in the two large equipment sheds that we use as barns. The larger animals went into one shed in the make shift stalls and the smaller animals went into the smaller building. Both buildings have concrete slabs for floors but no drains so clean up is going to be a bi … uh … problem.

Samuel and my Sarah – without getting permission might I say – have put several cages of very stinky rabbits and chickens on our lanai. They did get points for lining the screens with more plastic sheeting preventing the smoke from getting in back there; but it's also preventing the smell of the mini livestock from getting out. I told them in no uncertain terms that they better keep those cages clean or they were going to be carting those things over to Jack's house real quick. They got the message … Patricia is not fond of chickens. I think they are one of the few things on this planet that she is really scared of. To be honest I think she'd rather face a zombie than a rooster.

Austin and Mr. Morris think they have the animal situation under control for now but don't know for how long. That's a lot of animals for that size of space. And some of them are cranky. The larger goats are just not happy; they had gotten used to their free range freedom. And if one gets sick with something that is catching? It will run like wildfire through the entire population. I guess we'll cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, because the barns are all dark the animals are pretty much treating it like it is night time and extending their rest cycles.

The domesticated animals aren't the only ones in trouble. We've found several bird carcasses on the ground. We've also seen some squirrels falling out of the trees. Samuel and Sarah found a couple of marsh rabbits that had built a new burrow in our hay bales. We left them alone. It may come down that we need them for meat if this "siege" lasts a long time. Thanks to the hunt after Noah's parade we are doing pretty well meat wise but never look a gift horse in the mouth. A little providential provision may be what helps us get through in the end.

About midmorning Rose came over and told me that Waleski asked if he could move Terra and baby Kai over here. Laura woke up and in apparent panic and proceeded to try and escape her room, breaking a window in the process. The baby was in distress from all the smoke despite the fact that the window had been covered. I said of course. I didn't even have to bother asking Scott, I know he would want to do what we could.

I went inside and when I told Charlene she said she'd give up her bed. Instead I asked her to clean out the little girls' room and move their bedding into the boys' room temporarily until we could figure something else out. I had just finished pushing two of the twin beds together and getting sheets on them when Nick and Waleski carried Terra and Kai in through the carport. Terra had tried to walk part of the way here but the stress of everything was just a bit much so she finally accepted the wheelchair Ski had all but been begging her to sit in.

I had to get back to preparing lunch so Charlene and Rose helped to settle Terra and Kai in. Nick and Waleski, both grim faced, were on their way back to deal with the mess Laura had made. Ski asked me if I would send Scott over when he had time. Ski was afraid that Laura had bent the window frame and the whole thing would have to be replaced and not just the glass. Ski had dosed Laura with more sedatives, just enough to let her go back into her fantasy world.

Saen dropped by and we made a really nice curry, this one milder than she would normally have made. We didn't have enough room to make multiple dishes up so we compromised on the mild side rather than fixing a pot of mild and hot and letting people take their choice. She also made a batch of something that looked like coconut rice pudding. People filed in and out eating as they could and the younger kids all helped with the dishes in the clean up station I had put together in our kitchen. It was crowded but better than the alternative. And there was surprisingly few complaints. Everyone was too tired more likely.

It was right after lunch that the chaos set in. Melody ran over to get Rose who had just finished eating. Laura had started to bleed quite heavily. She was miscarrying, probably brought on by her own explosively violent panic. I went to go help when Melody told me that Ski didn't want any more people than he could help over at the clinic in case he was forced to sanitize Laura or the baby. Waleski didn't think the fetus was developed enough to have to fear but he was acting on the safe side. He had already restrained Laura whom he had sedated even further.

Junie, on a cot in one of the other rooms at the clinic was screaming to be let out. She wasn't going to stay where some freaky kid could go reanimated, yada, yada, yada. The way I heard it later it was her own fault what eventually happened.

The miscarriage took a couple of hours. Tina and Dante' were in shock. They knew the dangers of such a young girl being pregnant, miscarriage is one of them. Add in her mental instability and the fact that we simply didn't have access to a lot of modern health care resources and you have a lot of potential for disaster. Still, no matter people's personal feelings on the matter, the miscarriage was an emotional blow to our already depressed population.

In the end Laura started to hemorrhage. It would have been a very difficult situation in a modern hospital setting with a lower percentage of survival. She probably would have had to have a hysterectomy and at 13 that would have been devastating. It didn't take her long to bleed out. Dante' and Tina, already prepared by Waleski for the possibility, started to argue about how they wanted her sanitized. Waleski, ignoring them, went to get the undertaker's tool but was stopped by Junie who had managed to get up from her cot and crawl over the doorway and grabbed hold of him.

Sometimes corpses take a while to reanimate … and sometimes they don't.

While Junie was fussing at Waleski and threatening to sanitize "the girl" herself, the change had already begun within Laura's corpse. Dante' was the one to notice it first. It finally snapped him out of the stupor he had been in the last few days. He pushed Tina, Rose and Melody out of the room right as Laura's corpse snapped the restraints holding her. Rilla standing in the waiting room area … the old living room of the converted house … screamed.

The fact that she … no … the fact that it hadn't gone through the initial weak phase and went straight into the strong stage was not a good thing. Dante' yelled for Waleski right as what used to be Laura exited the room where she had just died. This happened so quickly that Junie was startled, pivoted on her injured knee, and lost her balance slamming both herself and Waleski into the hallway wall. Laura … I'm still having trouble not designating the infected corpse by the name it had in life … sprang at the two of them. Waleski jumped out of the way just in time. Junie didn't make it.

It was seconds. Junie didn't even have time to scream. Not that she could have, it tore her throat out and arterial blood sprayed everywhere for a moment. The floor was so slick that Waleski and Dante' were sliding as they dogpiled the corpse and sanitized it. Junie wasn't even cold before she started to turn and threw Laura's corpse off as well as Dante' and Ski.

Rose had taken her Daddy's admonishments seriously. Lord knows he's made the kids practice enough so he was confident they wouldn't freeze or panic. She picked up the long-handled sledge hammer that was kept in the pharmacy area and Rilla said she used it like a croquet mallet; a loud pop and then Junie's corpse lay still beside the already sanitized corpse of Laura.

Rilla's scream was pretty audible in the unnatural quiet that had overtaken Sanctuary. Too off-duty guards walking in front of the clinic sent up the alarm. It was a moment before Waleski could convince Matlock and Dix that things were already under control. Dante' was holding onto Tina repeating, "She was already gone baby. She was already gone."

Meanwhile Rose was sandwiched between Scott and David and Melody was being squeezed to pieces by Cease. I couldn't leave the carport and was very agitated about it if you want to know the truth. Matlock had just brought Jamie over so he could get something to eat before he was locked back up in one of the vacant houses. As much as I suspected Jamie was harmless there was no way I was going to test that theory by leaving him alone with my kids so close at hand.

This day … Lord have mercy … this day ….

No sooner had Dix left than Jamie started pouring his guts out to me again. He kept telling me that we had to be careful of McGruder … that was the tough guy sergeant's name. Apparently McGruder was the real deal. Rumor had it that he was a former corporate spy and new sixty-eleven dozen different ways to get what he wanted. Jamie claimed to have seen McGruder do some pretty disgusting things both to the living and the dead. I won't repeat them in this journal, likely Dix has put them in his event reports that he keeps. Suffice it to say if even half of what Jamie said about the man was true we had a sociopath on our hands. Jamie said every patrol group had someone like McGruder with them although McGruder was one of the worst. They were like informers or enforcers for the NRSC Executive Board.

It was McGruder that was the mastermind behind the attempted escape even though he wasn't the officer in charge. He was the one that had apparently been working on Junie for weeks, turning her into his "eyes and ears." I can see how it happened. Junie had left looking for something; not even she probably knew what in the beginning. That's how cults get people. The depressed, the vulnerable, the lonely, the outcast … they are all fodder for a good recruiter.

I had been listening to Jamie with half an ear while trying to listen for Scott's return with our daughter. And then the boogey man showed up at the door.

God, that poor kid. He never stood a chance. His is a death I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for. I was the one that opened him up like a emotional can opener, used his needs against him, caused him to spill his guts. He was just a weak kid, not especially likeable but desperately needing to be liked, or at least think someone cared about him. If I hadn't let him use me as an outlet for his neediness McGruder would never have thought him a traitor. What I did was necessary … I know that, or I'm pretty sure I know that most of the time … but necessary doesn't mean crap when you've got blood on your hands.

McGruder just reached in and grabbed him and then poof, the kid was gone. McGruder shoved some kind of pointy thing into his temple. I saw it afterwards; it looks like some kind of four-sided ice pick kind of blade.

Then he came at me. A big boom rang out, then another though I didn't hear that one quite as well.  
Charlene. She stood there looking at where McGruders face used to be and said, "Poppa Scott says you forget your gun more often than he likes to know about. You really shouldn't do that. I better go get him, he's bound to have heard the noise."

I was still standing there with my mouth hanging open trying to figure out a comeback when Scott nearly yanked all the curtains down running in.  
Jack has a pretty mean knife wound but it is more painful than near fatal. Matlock and Dix are kicking themselves for not putting two guards on McGruder but he had been firmly tied up and in full view of everyone. When the commotion at the clinic started, McGruder made his move. We still haven't figured out where the knife or spike or whatever that thing was called got secreted. All he had on was pants … not even his shoes. I'm not really sure I want to know at this point.

Junie and McGruder's corpses were tossed over the Wall. Dante' and Tina buried Laura out in the little graveyard in the orange grove before it got dark. They were going to throw Jamie's body over the Wall as well but I got a little hysterical and David said he'd bury him on the other side of our little cemetery. If and when things ever return to normal I want to tell Jamie's family … his sisters and parents that he told me about … that he at least died with a clean conscience. That he tried to be helpful and that he loved them very much. That's the least I can do.

I suppose that I should write down the other information that Jamie gave me. I'm not certain what good this does for us out here in the quarantine zones but its information worth having nonetheless. It's about how the various zombies come to be.

Basically two factors come into play. The first one is what variety of zombie passes the infection along. The second factor is blood type.

The most common zombie is the common shambler. Its not surprising then all shamblers started out with O+ blood type. Here in the USA – I checked with Waleski to make sure – blood types from most common to most rare is O+, A+, B+, O-, A-, AB+, B-, and then most rare is the AB-.

As I said, shamblers are the most common and all shamblers started out with O+ blood type. In contrast the first Ragers started out as O- blood type. Most of the Climbers start out as A- blood type.

Now here's the thing that makes it so complicated. Shamblers can only beget shamblers. That's all that their particular variant of the NRS virus can transmit. Climbers are rare relatively speaking. And, their variant of NRS generally only awakens other A- blood types. If a climber transmits the NRS virus to an O+ blood type the virus reverts to the Shambler variant.

On the other hand the Rager variant of the virus tends to override all other variants. That means that if a shambler passes their virus along to an individual that is O- they will become a Rager automatically. However, if a Rager passes their variant along to O+, A+, B+ or A- blood type those individuals will without exception become Ragers.

Blood types A+ and B+ also tend to be shamblers unless there receive a viral load from some other type of zombie. Because of the number of O, A, and B positive individuals being the most prevalent in the USA … and in the world for the most part … that is the explanation for why Shamblers are generally the most common kind of zombie.

Jamie told me of a type of zombie that we have not knowingly encountered yet that the NRSC calls a "Hunter." It's a loner, will not follow a hive or horde of any size. This zombie appears to exhibit some intelligence. That zombie starts out with a B- blood type. It is very rare. In the USA 0.6% of the population has B- blood. Another reason why the Hunters are so rare is because they cannot transmit their variant at all except to another B- person. If a B- person is bitten by a Rager they will become a Rager. A person that is B- that is bitten by a shambler becomes a Hunter most of the time. Again though I've learned of one exception to the rule about corpses that reanimate. For some reason, people with B- blood do not always reanimate. James said the NRSC scientists have found that at least 50% of the time a B- person simply doesn't reanimate at all. They haven't figured out why yet.

The mutant zombies – the ones that prey on other zombies – only started showing up about two or three months ago. Apparently it took time for all the possible variants of the NRS virus to mix into a weird enough cocktail the first time. Mutants result from already reanimated zombies cross infecting each other. No one is quite sure of the combination but apparently a certain cross contamination has to occur and then the contaminated zombie has to deteriorate passed a certain point before the mutant abnormality is triggered. Mutants follow and are created by the bigger hordes and the hives. That's why we haven't seen them since the Big Horde. If a mutant is not able to feed on other zombies it quickly is taken over by the tumors and decays at a near normal rate.

There are other zombies that are nearly as rare as the Hunters are but it's getting late and I still don't understand everything that Jamie was trying to explain. Those zombies are a result of various blood or lymphatic disorders as well as blood types and what kinds of zombies transmit the virus. I wouldn't say there are an infinite number of variations on the types of zombies that we could see, but it is certainly possible to see types beyond what we already have experience with.

I'm tired but I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight. The later in the day it became the more desperate some of the calls into OSAG's radio station became. The later in the day it became the more we became desperate. The zombie hive arrived.

Zombies don't make independent vocal sounds. Most of that soft tissue is too destroyed to even work. However, there is a sound that thousands upon thousands of zombies make when they are together in one place. It the sound of cockroaches rustling in the leaves on the ground. It's the sound of rats chewing in an attic. It's the sound of a snake makes as its passing through the grass. The sound of leathery bat wings as they fly through the air.

I don't know exactly what the sound is from. Maybe old air being forced out of useless lungs over ruined windpipes. Maybe blood stiffened clothes and skin constantly rubbing against each other. It's a sound difficult to describe and impossible to ever forget.

And that sound was all around us, for as far as the eye could see, even amplified by binoculars.

For a while there the smell of the hive was so overpowering it was like the very oxygen we breathed was being stolen from us. More than one person unashamedly found a discreet place to puke. Eventually we were forced to learn to ignore it. I hung up bundles of dried herbs and flowers and dabbed essential oils every where I could but it hasn't really helped.

This whole maggoty situation weighs on us like a headstone across our chests. We are all dragging. Its like a miasma stealing all hope. And we aren't the only ones being affected by this. OSAG has had to go off the air. The thickness of the smoke was beginning to affect their generators. They also needed to pull back as far as they could for safety's sake.

I hope that when this is over … not if but when, I have to keep believing that. When this is over, Steve and his crew will be back on the air. Unfortunately it looks like it is not just the zombies that they – and we – need to be concerned about. Steve, bless him, sounds a little on the ragged edge. I doubt he has had much sleep in the last few days. I hope now that he has shut the broadcast down Shorty will be able to get some food in him and get him to catch a few desperately needed hours of rest. That's where I'm going just as soon as I get his last broadcast transcribed.

* * *

 _Well, listeners, this is Steve's Midnight Music and Talk Radio Show brought to you by the Association for A Free Florida. Now while the AAFF doesn't really exist as of yet as a cohesive organization, I believe that it might exist in the hearts and minds of people within the sound of my voice._

 _If you are getting a slight warble in my transmission, you can thank the people we did not elect for that little transmission difficulty. I'm not going to claim the knowledge of how it fucking works, but apparently when you want to defeat someone from what we used to call "jamming" your transmission, you simple start to transmit on various frequencies all at once, at different power bands. That's what Scott tells me. I am simply the humble DJ._

 _The music you just heard was Bob Dylan "Chimes of Freedom". Yes, friends, you are going to get a shitload of protest songs tonight._

 _Tonight, I want to update everyone on the situation we have before us—that is the motherfucking situation that our government that we did not elect have put us in. The fires, it turns out, was set by those bastards in an effort to control the NRS infected. We have it on good authority that members of the forward group of the NRSC have taken the opportunity to strike first at our outposts here in Florida and have failed. They have been beaten back by the good people and are now incarcerated—our present government might call them hostages, but I like to think of them as being prisoners of war._

 _Yeah, I might be talking shit here, but what else am I going to call them? They attacked members of the community and expect to nor be dealt with harshly?_

 _Now, we here at Steve's Free Florida Show have gotten a broadcast from people who represent the officials of the government that we did not elect. Guess what they wanted from your humble DJ-? That's it, it was a cease and desist from taking an active interest in the happenings around me and simply be more "Broadcast friendly" or the FCC was going to come in and shut me down. They even gave me what fucking news that they wanted me to broadcast._

 _Guess what I told them? You got it, friends, I told them to fuck themselves. I told their sycophant to get off his fat ass and come down here to Florida and make me stop broadcasting._

 _Now here at Steve's Midnight Music and Talk Show we have a caveat for our community in general: always go armed. So once again to that fuckheaded governmental lackey; fuck you and your fucking orders. Come down here and make me, bitch._

 _Here's the Indigo Girls with "Rise Up" from the album "All That We Let In"._

 _And that was Shooter Jennings with "Manifesto No. 1" from "Put the O back into Country"… the operative line in that song if you couldn't figure it out was "If that's the way you say hello, you can kiss my ass goodbye."_

 _Now let's talk a little about freedom, shall we? What few people know about me is that I used to teach and one of the things I taught was something called Search and Seizure. Now you might ask yourself, "Steve, what the fuck does Search and Seizure have to do with our situation?" Well, folks, let me tell you how all that shit works._

 _There's this document called the Bill of Rights, and in the Bill of Rights, we have the Amendments to that document. In order for our system of government to work, you have to look at the document in its entirety. I know, I know, that was not the most popular way to look at those pieces of paper in recent years, many of us liked to pick and choose those things we thought only applied to us and our situation, and let the others fall by the way side._

 _But I'm here to tell you that they don't fucking work that way. The Amendments that you see there on that piece of paper are written the way they are because without the first three, the fourth one is worthless. With out Free Speech, we can not fight for our Right to Keep and Bear Arms. With out the Second Amendment we can not protect that right of Free Speech, nor can we be safe in our homes from Unlawful Search and Seizure. While we might not think that it applies to use today, with out the Third Amendment, we would not be free from the pressure of the government to house soldiers._  
 _Let me read that one to you folks, I think that here in the near future it might apply to all of us here in Free Florida. I happen to have a copy of the Bill of Rights right here; as a matter of fact I keep a copy of it in several places, with all my firearms, in my BOB and in my safe at home. Amendment Three reads as follows;_

 _No soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law._

 _Now we're all law abiding citizens, and I've had this conversation with some folks in one of the enclaves known as Sanctuary. They've been more than helpful to people in the past, they've been more than willing to allow for our government to house people in their compound in the past, but with consent and with the understanding that it was THEIR HOUSE. I chided them at doing this out of kindness and now, it has come full circle. NRSC goons paid a visit to some folks and tried to take advantage of their compassion. Thankfully, our good people overcame those worthless bastards and we now have at least a little information as to the plan they were endeavoring to undertake. OF course it backfired on them. More on that later._

 _Let's talk about our elected officials who have unleashed NRSC on is, shall we? I know that one might argue that the NRSC workers are just doing their jobs, and studies have shown that there is such a thing as group-think, that is, people acting as a group will do what they are told even if the order goes against their held morals. We saw this in Germany, we saw this in Russia, we saw this in so many fascist and socialist governments that it is hard to discard the evidence. The problem with NRSC lies with the people at the top and because of this, we are going to pay the price unless we stand up to it now. This government was not elected by us, Florida, and is illegal._

 _There are four different Amendments pertaining to voting. How many of them have been denied to us here in Free Florida? All of them, people. As soon as the ballot box was closed to us due to the NRS outbreak and they HELD ELECTIONS WITHOUT US, they violated that sacred trust we supposedly have in our government. So to you idiots who belong to the illegal government of Colorado who are listening to me, here's a song for you._

 _Bob Dylan again, "The Time's They are a Changin'."_

 _I know I've been rambling here, I really just don't know where to start. I've kept you up to date about who to trade with, what can be done about chiggers, keeping clean in an unclean environment and their desire to nuke parts of this great nation, I've kept you up to date about their attempts to control this outbreak and how they've been using us here in Florida to experiment with the eradication of the NRS plague._

 _I really don't know where to go from here, Scott tells me that due to the smoke, we need to shut down for a while since the generators are over heating. So I'll leave you with this one thought from Samuel Adams:_

 _"The liberties of our country, the freedom of our civil Constitution, are worth defending at all hazards; and it is our duty to defend them against all attacks. We have received them as a fair inheritance from our worthy ancestors: they purchased them for us with toil and danger and expense of treasure and blood, and transmitted them to us with care and diligence. It will bring an everlasting mark of infamy on the present generation, enlightened as it is, if we should suffer them to be wrested from us by violence without a struggle, or to be cheated out of them by the artifices of false and designing men."_

 _I'm going to leave with a song that is not a protest song. It's a song by a Adam Hood, called "Play Something We Know". It's from a really cool album called "6th Street". I guess that I just need to stop my tirade here and get to something a little less, inflammatory._


	166. Day 207

**Day 207 (Friday) – February 23**

Today should have been cleaning day. What a laugh. The smoke is everywhere. It's not the smoke you get from a campfire either. It's like the smell of a burning landfill; sweet and rotten.

The only relief we got today was a brief rain shower. The zombies started moving haphazardly again but it didn't last long. So far they are just standing like silent sentries around Sanctuary. We can make out, when the haze lifts slightly, that the outer bands of the hive continue to move to the west.

We make as little noise as we can but it's inevitable that some noise gets made. The kids are nervous wrecks. I've tried to instill the need for absolute quiet but they are just little kids. I had to get onto them so many times late yesterday and early today that now they watch me with silent eyes, too worried that they'll misstep and maybe it won't just be my words punishing them. But their safety and ours depends on their obedience. I feel like a heel … worse than that. Finally I had Scott help me to take their beds apart and we've done our best to line the room where they are staying with the mattresses and then added several layers of blankets on top of that. It helps keep the smoke out too. Too late I think. The kids are somber and scared. I've tried to make things better but …

Charlene says they aren't really upset at me … they are just upset period. Nice girl, trying to make me feel better. I hope I can fix this … this … whatever I've done sooner rather than later. Tomorrow, if its feasible, we are going to bring all of the kids over here so they can play together. We'll hang heavy quilts over all the openings and hopefully that will help dampen the sound some.

Rose was over at the clinic most of the day cleaning and disinfecting everything. But Terra and Kai won't be moving back over there. Scott said the window frame would have to be replaced and it would make too much noise to do that right now.

Tina and Dante' are understandably grief stricken right now. I've seen them both. I've tried to say the right things. But if I were in their shoes I know it wouldn't be enough. It's something you have to live through and it will stay with you the rest of your life. Maybe it is wrong of me but I'm relieved that it wasn't me. I had feared that somehow some way I would be part of Laura's fate, whatever it was. I'm glad I don't have to live with that. The rest of the things that I've had to do are going to be hard enough.

James is getting sick. He spends most of his time on guard duty and this smoke is just not good for him. Dix finally noticed and has ordered him to get a full night's sleep. He'll ruin his lungs and his eyes trying to peer through this haze to keep an eye out for threats.

Scott and David are hacking a lot as well. Pulling out my herbals all I could find for smoke inhalation was ginseng tea, eating oatmeal, and loquat syrup. Also you were supposed to stay away from spicy foods. The goal was to get your body to retain moisture to help lungs and eyes. I've given the loquat syrup a try with the kids and they loved it. We'll be having oatmeal for breakfast everyday for a while because it is what is easiest to fix under the circumstances. I've enjoyed the ginseng tea but not everyone has.

There hasn't been much in the way of radio communication since we found out that OSAG was threatened. Thanks to the radio equipment in the vehicle that the NRSC were in we are able to listen in to what they are saying amongst themselves but its taking Dix a while to decipher their codes. Bekah actually figured out a sequence all by herself much to all the adults' amazement. That helped Dix figure out some other phrases but he is missing some vital info to make it all fall into place.

The animals are in greater distress today. I think they sense the infected corpses. Some of them do nothing but stand with stiffened legs and shake and shiver. We lost two rabbits during the night, no apparent reason. Austin says it may have been fear. Chickens are off laying their eggs but that was to be expected with us keeping them in the dark as much as possible.

I'm not going to have any choice, tomorrow I'm going to have to do some more baking. We've run through almost all of what we fixed a couple of days ago.

I'm going to close with both the worst and the best thing I saw today. I'll start with the best. Lucky is back. That's right, that crazy cat has been around just not to be seen. Sarah and Samuel found her. She must have come in at some point over the last day or two. Dix had stacked some boxes on his front porch and they've been there for a couple of weeks now. Samuel had asked if Sarah could help him move them to the burn pile, but when he looked over in them he got a surprise. There was lucky in the middle of giving birth. She has four teeny tiny kittens. She would have had five but one didn't make it. The four that did are all black as night; three of them are slick and one of them is long haired and about as fluffy as you could ever imagine. Three have green eyes but the fluffy one has ice blue eyes. Lucky is rather puffed up with her consequence and is enjoying being fed and watered … just don't get too near the kittens or she'll take a whack at you.

I wish I could stop there. Maybe I should but I think I need to write it down to get it out of my head. When I was on guard duty Angus told me not to look down too much and not to think too hard about it when I did. Of course, that is a bit like telling Pandora not to peek inside the box.

I looked down and oh how I wished I hadn't. It was the zombies, but yet not. It wasn't what they smelled like or looked like exactly. It wasn't how many of them there were although yeah that was part of it too. It was that … they were pushing. You know, we've set the rail cars and trailers so that they aren't going anywhere. We've strapped them together and bolted them in place. It would take a tsunami … or a head on collision from something huge … to move the Wall.

When the first zombies piled up against the Wall it was just … I keep imagining a crowded rock concert. The people on the front row of a standing room only show … how do I put this into words so that someone can understand it. They were crushing each other against the Wall. The first row of zombies were long gone. Probably the third, forth, and fifth row of zombies as well. They just kept pushing.

And then the hive would move as a whole and they would smear … From the height of a man down to the ground the Wall and Gatehouses were smeared with … It wasn't just red. There was stuff sticking to … I give up. Whoever you are reading this sometime long from now maybe someone else was able to describe that horrific sight but its beyond my powers. The zombies crushed their own kind and the resulting biological debris layered the Wall like jelly on toasted bread. It caught in all the nooks and crannies, all the crevices, every surface space. If we could see the ground I'm sure it would be like a pool of jello.

I just won't think about it. There is nothing I can do. It's just there. Maybe pray for rain to wash it away … but it'll just be back as soon as the zombies start moving again.

If I'm going to pray, I better pray that doesn't happen to any of us. We're safe inside our Wall. For now. I hope I can still say that tomorrow.


	167. Day 209

**Day 209 (Sunday) – February 25**

Some day of rest this has been. Yesterday I was too tired and too depressed to write. Today … I'm not sure there are words to describe this day.

Yesterday was a whole lot of the same as the day before. I cooked. I cleaned the best I could. I took care of the kids and Scott. I did my time on the Wall. It was just … it was awful. I was dragging and I was depressed and I just couldn't climb out of the funk I was in. The only bright spot was the kids. It was like old times. Every kid in Sanctuary was over here and they played. I mean they really played. Toys, cars, board games, card games, I fixed them snacks … popcorn, juice, they pulled taffy … for them I could be better. But whenever I went back outside, back to the haze, the smoke, the dank smell, the weird and unnatural sounds … then the façade would tumble down, I would be how I really was and not how I wanted to be.

The radio was silent except for the occasional crackle of life when the NRSC were relaying their coded messages to one another. Dix was so frustrated.

We used up most of the lamps so that the kids could have light to play by during the day. We left the mattresses and blankets against the windows to deaden the sound so the zombies couldn't hear the kids. The whole house was a dark as a cave. I found every solar lamp and light and rechargeable that we had so that the kids could play. But that didn't leave me any to waste to write by. It didn't matter, I just didn't really feel like it anyway.

But something happened overnight. Dix, unable to sleep, worked in the Radio Shack. And then, it must have been about 3 AM, he finally figured out their location codes. With that he was able to make more sense of some of the other transmissions. As he went back he finally broke their whole code.

And damn good thing he did it when he did. At five in the morning they gave a signal that they would be "planting the flowers in the field at the north end of aviator's highway." Scott had told Dix that Dale Mabry Hwy was actually named after a WWI aviator. "Planting the flowers" Dix was able to discern from other transmissions was dropping some type of package that was used to lure the infected corpses. They were going to do that at 6 AM.

We were all up and moving when we got the news. I'm not fond of the NRSC. I don't like their tactics. I recognize the need to have a central government for some things but I don't like how they seem to be operating outside of the US Constitution and US Bill of Rights. I know in an emergency some of those "rights" may get suspended but there had to be a line of demarcation that should never be crossed. I also didn't like that they were doing this operation with no warning to the survivors in the area. Like we were expendable … or bait … and were being use to further their goals.

We gathered that the fire had made the full turn and was now running from east to west along the corridor we expected it to take. We were blessed that the wind had died down and now the fire only traveled because it was taking the path with the most fuel to consume. The Big Fire of so many months ago now turned out to be a good thing. Most of what could fuel a fire was gone. I hope all of the small peddler groups and survivor compounds could avoid this disaster.

The smoke was very bad for us. We were inside the "L" and catching the smoke from both pathways. But that would mean that it should leave us sooner rather than later. But we wouldn't know for sure until the zombies were gone and we could reconnoiter the area.

Six AM came and went and then we started to hear it. My Lord. Imagine all of the happy sounds of normal everyday life you can think of; children laughing and talking, a baby's cry, the clink of dishes, dinner table conversation, the sound of a city bus, music from a carousel, the clack of a rollercoaster, a hot dog vendor selling his wares, birds in a park, a football game, a stadium full of fans. The sounds played over and over and over. The sounds that real live humans make going about their normal lives. Only these were amplified so they must have carried for miles.

They had to have dropped some kind of transmitter right into the leading edge of the hive. And it did … nothing. Not a single thing. Eventually they batteries wore out.

They called for a second drop about 9 AM. The same result. Again at noon. The same result. The zombies didn't move, didn't leave. They just shuffled in place, uninterested in the sounds of humanity. Why should they be interested in sounds … they were fixated on the real thing. Us … and OSAG … and a couple of other small groups that had gotten caught in the area trying to escape the fire.

Then another version of our nightmare started. The order went out for the "eagles to soar." Turned out more like vultures dropping a stinking load. We heard the jets but never saw them. We didn't know what they were doing until it was too late.

We just barely had time to identify the sounds of the planes when there was a whistling noise. You know, anyone that has ever watched a war movie or documentary knows that sound. It didn't take any special wisdom. But before we could do much more than hitch our breath there were loud thumping explosions in the smoke to our east.

Well, crap. What are you going to do when you are close to being bombed? Its not like we've got any basements or subways that we can crawl into. Scott and I looked at each other and we ran for our kids. Scott split off from me and headed to the clinic to get Rose and Melody. Waleski was already hustling them out laden with a lot of medical supplies.

Cease also came running and the men hustled them into the house. Dix came running up at the same time and looked at Scott. Scott asked, "What are you waiting for?! Bring 'em on!"

Our home has been designated as the fall back position almost since the very beginning of Sanctuary but not since the Raid have we utilized this system. They came in dribs and drabs carry mattresses, blankets, food, and other stuff we would need. It felt like everyone was in slow motion but actually we were all moving very quickly. Shutters were closed, mattresses were leaned against windows and walls. Food stored in the kitchen.

I kept looking around for James and David. They weren't anywhere. I finally grabbed Scott but before I could ask he shook his head and said, "They're on the Wall." Then he hugged me and I realized he hated just as much as I did but knew that it was necessary while I still battled with believing that.

"Down!" bellowed Dix.

This time the explosions were closer. Reports came from our guards that the zombies were more agitated but weren't really moving, at least not those within visual distance.

Everyone was in. We put the children in the den where there would be enough room for them all and Terra with Kai, Patricia, and Rhonda in one of the bedrooms. Rose and Melody floated between the two helping with whatever needed doing. Waleski stowed his stuff in the dining room and we covered the table with a tarp. You don't want to think of that sort of thing but what choice did we have.

Again, another bombing run, this one close enough to make a deep base rumble in our ear drums. And then the next one was close enough that we could feel it through the ground.

They were getting closer. And the zombies were getting more agitated. Were beginning to move. But, not appreciably in any particular direction. In point of fact they were losing the cohesion that they had as a hive. We couldn't decide if this was a good thing or not.

Then Dix popped out of the radio shack and sent the word out. The NRSC may be in charge overall but it was the US military that was running the bombing runs. It appeared they were using "smart bombs" and doing their best to avoid known civilian locations.

The bombing was more like the "shock and awe" tactics of recent history or the blitzkrieg maneuvers of WW2. It picked up in consistency and went on until five o'clock at which time they just seemed to either give up … or someone with a calculator finally called a halt after tallying up the cost.

About an hour into the bombing, Waleski gave Rhonda and Patricia a very low dose of phenothiazine. It was the only sedative we had that was occasionally used with pregnant women. He had scoured all the medical books he had but that's the only one he could come up with that we had in stock. I know he didn't feel like he had much choice, especially with Patricia that was beginning to show extreme signs of distress. They were never sedated enough to go to sleep but they were lethargic and relaxed … honestly pretty zoned, but not so bad that we couldn't have stuffed them into an escape vehicle had we needed to.

And speaking of, my nerves were pretty frayed as well. Scott, James, and David spent much of the time getting the bus, Juicer, and a few other vehicles ready in case we had a Wall breach and needed to bug out. The plan was to throw ourselves on the mercy of OSAG if we could go that way or even get to Aldea and make do with what had been stored with the storage containers.

We did have one emergency from the bombing. The percussion from the bombs finally knocked down a huge live oak and wouldn't you know it, it fell on the Wall. While it crushed some zombies it also created a bridge up the Wall.

Imagine reader, if you can, being out in the middle of a battle. Bombs falling all around. The sound deafening. The stress and fear pushing your heart up your throat. That's where we were. Why you ask? Well, because we were cutting the tree back as quickly as we could. I took James' place as look out and he helped his father and the other men with saws and axes trying to cut it away so we could lever the massive trunk down off the Wall.

We were fine until a couple of climbers showed up. And when they got agitated the other zombies finally started to notice us as well. The climbers would start up and then we would shoot them down or throw a limb down and in their way. Other zombies kept trying to get to us but they were an uncoordinated lot. And then the three ragers showed up. What was scary was those three seemed to be working in concert. They were ripping and tearing at the lower limbs and trunk. What was left of the shredded bark shown red with blood where the ragers didn't care whether they ripped off skin or whole fingers as they tried to utilize the tree to get to us.

It took five or six shots, but I finally calmed myself down enough that I could make reasonably descent headshots. I missed a couple of times and simply blew off jaws or other body parts, but for the most part I began to find the rhythm I needed to do my part. One thing on our side was that the zombies, as clumsy as the majority of them were, could never get a purchase to climb the Wall itself … not even the Climbers. And the zombie … umm … debris I guess you'd call it … would have been comedic if we weren't so scared. Some of the shamblers could do nothing but slip and slide, only remaining upright because there were so many of them packed into the area.

It took an hour with all hands available hacking and sawing to clear enough of the tree off so that we could do what needed to be done. I went through way too much ammo to be comfortable.

After things were silent again we walked the perimeter. We couldn't see that they had appreciably moved the zombies at all. In fact, many of the more noticeable ones were still around. There was the zombie in a bride's dress now more gore splattered than white who was missing the lower half of her right arm. There was a zombie still wearing a fireman's jacket and breathing apparatus, though the face mask had fallen away long ago. There were the child zombies, some of the hardest for me to take. There was a zombie dressed in a clown outfit guaranteed to give me more than a few dreams at some point in the future. The ones that Angus said gave him the willies were the three zombies in bikinis or what was left of the bikinis … and what was left of what was supposed to have been covered up by the bikinis. All three of them had horrific wounds on their chests.

Matlock and some of the other guys got busy manufacturing their homemade bombs. The stuff they were using was basically the same materials that were used to bring the OKC building down. I'm glad they were doing it on the other side of the compound in a storage container they had sandbagged all around to make a sort of bunker for their bombs to live in.

Dix had headed over to the radio shack to see if he could figure out what was next. After checking to make sure that all the people in our house were fed and watered I headed over to see if he had heard anything new.

Oh brother, had he. I hope Steve and his group are able to pick the signals up but even if they could I don't know if anyone has deciphered them yet. Dix is worried about breaking radio silence and alerting them to the fact that we can understand them. We'd send a runner out but that would be suicide.

Tomorrow the next wave starts … not … we aren't for sure that we have decoded it properly. It sounds outrageous. Crazy. Suicidal. And dangerous as hell.


	168. Day 210

**Day 210 (Monday) – February 26**

Sometimes I wonder how far into the future this journal is going to be read. Will I just be a little old lady basking in the act of surviving when so many didn't? Will my journals be taken out by my children after I've gone and they are searching for a connection? Will my grandchildren or great grandchildren be rummaging through a box or chest and wonder what all this scrabbling was about as they sit and read? Maybe it's more generations from now than I can contemplate, when all that I hold dear now has left the earth.

The reason I sometimes wonder about that issue is that I have a tendency to associate two dissimilar objects or events, trying to come to some understanding about what I've seen, heard, or experienced.

Take today for instance. We all had a feeling today was going to be worse than yesterday. Yesterday was bad, but today was like we had stepped into a ripped off script from _Starship Troopers_. I know my kids know what _Starship Troopers_ is but maybe my future readers do not. Fine. Let me explain as best I can.

 _Starship Troopers_ was a movie … actually it was a trilogy though the second two movies didn't have the cult following of the first one. It started out being about a bunch of kids who "signed up" to become citizens by joining a military regime that fought "bugs," a type of alien invader that was infesting our known solar system. I'm sure I've already lost some of you. But it wasn't just about fighting bugs, it was how the kids were indoctrinated into this service and how they changed over time; some for the good, some for the worse. By the end of the trilogy the metaphors were getting a little heavy and obvious but in some ways apply more today than they did back when it was made. This was all very sci-fi and their uniforms and tools for fighting the bugs were quite interesting.

Well, today I watched people … many of them little more than kids … fighting "bugs" same as in the movie. Only the "bugs" were actually zombies; or more properly they were Necrotizing Reanimating Syndrome infected corpses. NRS. Our real life "bug." Our real life plague.

I had spent much of the night, in between cat naps, doing more cooking. All the women were busy helping load magazines and clips, divide up ammo, cook and bake food and breads that would last a day or two without refrigeration, fill water containers, and prepare drinks like Koolaid for the kids and Gatorade for those that would need electrolyte replacement from sweating or from battle.

From the overheard transmissions we knew that the NRSC planned on starting their crazy battle plan at 6 AM. A Radio Free Florida broadcast – not from OSAG but someone claiming the same name – came out late last night telling how equipment had parachuted from the sky and helicopters had landed with lots of men dressed all in black and they were setting up on the far side of the new burn zone between US 98 and US 301 not too far from Zephyrhills. They had just started a more detailed description of the equipment when the broadcast was abruptly broken off. We all had an opinion on what that meant.

So we waited. And waited. And waited.

After the RFF broadcast someone had wised up and gone to radio silence. Obviously they didn't want survivors to know what was coming. They certainly couldn't have expected the zombies would give a rats behind what was on the radio. I don't care about the old scare stories about zombies getting "smart" somehow. The whole point to a zombie is the fact that it is dead … dead things decay starting with the soft tissues. The brain is a soft tissue organ. It may be one of the last things to go, but go it will and that means that the more decay the dumber the zombie. We've seen that time and again with shamblers and the like.

My main concern at the time was just how dumb were the NRSC going to be. Their plan had so many holes in it that it let everything through but failure. The failure latched on to the lunatics that dreamed this nightmare up.

By about 8:30 AM their line was already faltering. What we've been able to paste together was that a massive line of tanks and personnel lined up along a two mile stretch just on the other side of US301. The tanks were painted black with the NRSC insignia on them like some kind of voodoo good luck charm. The men were armored in what looks like Kevlar and some hard polymer plating; from head to toe … or at least from head to the top of their boots which came just below their knees. Their helmet was some type of polymer as well with an attached face mask and neck guard. Sorry for the movie comparisons but Scott, being weird as he is on occasion, did his Darth Vader imitation saying, "James, I am your father." I thought it was asinine, but James and David laughed which I think might have been Scott's aim to begin with. We were all so tense; I just didn't see how they could joke at a time like that.

As you can guess around about noon came the first reports of heat exhaustion. What worked in New England in the late autumn and winter was not going to work in Florida at any time of the year. The gear had a built in camel pack but the rehydration went quickly.

At 6 AM on the nose the line started forward. The burn zone was fairly free of zombies … except for a few that had gotten fried crispy but hadn't completely destroyed the brain. These were easily put down. Then they began to run into the hive's exterior coating. These were nothing but shamblers unfit to do anything but face forward and move. They never even turned and the NRSC troopers mowed them down quickly. I think this set up a problem with over confidence.

Despite their apparent early successes, it was slow going. There were just so many corpses to slice through. About 8 AM they met their first real resistance and their main armored vehicle went to work. It looked like a small tank … maybe holding two or three personnel … with what looked like a street sweeper attached to the front on arms. Only instead of heavy duty brush bristles this think had chains and blades that would sling around.

I saw one in action. Oh my Lord. This thing chopped up everything … ground, trees, fences … but most particularly it chopped up zombies. And I think, had we had a normal horde it could have worked. But the head honchos in the Midwest tried to do too much at one time. They bit off more than they could chew. Sorry for the graphic reminder of what a horde is. But the thing to remember is this wasn't a horde; it was a hive … and a huge one that was miles in diameter and full of more than just shamblers.

Their other armored vehicle looked like a modified personnel carrier that had a …. I can't remember the name of these things but I've seen pictures of them on the front of steam engine trains that were cutting through avalanches laying over tracks and on those ships called "ice breakers." It was kind of like a pointy steam shovel that was used to push the hive along. The vehicle itself was huge, like one of those really big dump trucks you used to see on that old show Modern Marvels, a television series about all the good things that man had built. Only these things weren't good. They were like … like … no, I'm not crazy, not really. But what those machines … the drivers of those machines … did was awful, mean, irresponsible, sociopathic, and sadistic. If you thought my description of what the little tanks could do was pretty bad these things were even worse. They rolled over everything. They just went through stuff like a hot knife through butter. They could even slice through buildings without stopping as long as they had enough speed going into the obstruction.

But the problem was, from what OSAG was finally able to relay to us from their hidden vantage point at the top of one of their secured buildings, they tried to move their line too quickly. They cut into the hive, and quite effectively, but their line wasn't long enough or the hive was too thick or something. As the NRSC pushed into the hive, the center of the line starting forming a point. The line to either side of the point started falling back creating an inverted "V". Like birds flying south for the winter. This formation is great for punching into something but sucks when you want to keep what you are punching into cohesive.

The hive started splitting and bleeding around either end of the NRSC line. Because of radio silence or battle fever or inexperience, the center didn't get the message that they needed to slow down; or maybe they didn't know, the smoke was still very heavy. The inverted "V" kept getting more and more narrow.

Suddenly the NRSC line was fighting a battle on two fronts; the main hive in front of them and now the pieces of the hive that were flowing around and coming up behind them.

I'll give it to the NRSC boys and girls, they didn't lack for heart. They continued to maintain their forward motion and chew through the hive. We noticed some minor disturbances in the hive surrounding Sanctuary around 9 AM; by 10 AM the hive was undulating and moving back and forth like waves, mostly westward but for three feet forward they would slide back two. By 11 AM it had changed to move westward three feet and only slide back one.

At 11:30 AM though we noticed the start of what we've called a feeding frenzy. There were a lot of tumored, mutant zombies around now. And a lot of Ragers … bad combination. We figured it was the noise that was agitating them. We had begun to hear the roar and crunch of the forward NRSC line.

Brian and a couple of the other guys that had been lying on top of the tallest parts of the Wall scrambled down quickly and put the word out that the NRSC line was within visual distance, though still nearly a mile off. Debris could be seen falling and being kicked up through gaps in the thinning smoke. But, the line was pretty ragged. The foot soldiers were taking the worst of it. I'm not sure how many they had started with but they had to have lost quite a few considering how many we watched go down.

I was getting really nervous. They weren't turning or deviating from their path. I kept thinking of all those fruit trees that had just started coming back from the damage they had experienced during the Big Horde. Pictures of all of our storage pools came into my mind as well and all that we had hoped to salvage from the buildings. WE were going to be the ones to bring the buildings down in an efficient manner when we were ready. Now I could just make out all the damage and destruction that those vehicles had to be perpetrating. The Wall was strong but it wasn't indestructible.

Suddenly out of the smog and sound came a huge explosion. I'll be totally honest, I came close to wetting myself it startled me just that bad.

James, who was beside me at my position at the Wall went, "Whooooooaaaaaa! They must've found one."

"Found … one … what … James," I ground out after I put my heart back in my chest.

"Oh. Um. Well. Hey, here comes Dix and Matt. They can tell you," and the boy scrambled away pretty quick.

He was on the ladder going down when there was another explosion that nearly knocked me off my feet. What the heck?! I screamed inside my head.

Matt and Dixon had their piranha smiles on. "Oh," I thought to myself, "they did so not do what I think they did."

But they had. It seems when they had heard that the hive was on its way they had taken all of the explosives that had been made up to that point and seeded various areas. They did it secretly just to be safe. However, the stuff was apparently a little bit stronger than they had expected.

Scott came up at that point and asked me to get off the Wall. I was more than willing to go at that point, chauvinism or no chauvinism. I hate loud noises. I mean they rattle me very badly. I like loud music, but sudden loud noises does something to me. It's one of the reasons that I was so resistant to using guns in the beginning; not because I was scared of the guns but because I literally hate the noise they make. I've become desensitized to the noise somewhat now, but no one could possibly get use to the kind of deafening noise that those packages of explosives were making.

I guess some of the guys – the ones that were in on this – had rigged up some explosives in the houses that still stood. It was like a trip wire or something or some were like pressure switches. Anyone within our group would recognize the skull and crossbones insignia we put on the doors of a "bad" house … whether it was full of poison to kill an infestation, full of biological debris of some type, or maybe it was black mold … if it had that insignia no one was to go inside it. The houses were secure enough to keep the zombies out but when the armored vehicles tried to bust in or knocked one of them it was enough to set off the trigger.

I looked over to the "bunker" the men had set up and sure enough Austin, Brian, Chris and a few of the others were gathering up more of their "toys."

Anne saw me and came running wanting to know what was going on. When I told her … and Saen, Becky, Sarah, and Tina who had also come out to the carport … what was going on their faces must have mirrored my own. But it was Anne that pretty much summed it up for the rest of us. Seems Anne can be very, very creative when it comes to potential revenge for not giving us any warning of what they were going to do. I hope Lee knows what he's doing when he comes home tonight. Saen is not too happy with Glenn at the moment either. Several of the men might find out they are in for a skinning.

About that time three near simultaneous explosions went off. I later found out that was something that Scott and James … my pyromaniacs that tie unseemly numbers of fireworks together on the 4th of July to make the biggest explosion possible for the longest time possible … had rigged up. That one took out one of those big armored vehicles … basically disintegrated it, sending dirt, debris, and metal parts raining down all over the place, including inside Sanctuary.

The men became much more cautious because things had started to get very crazy. My descriptions aren't doing the facts justice. It has just all been so unbelievable. So over the top that many of us have been near overload for days now.

The feeding frenzy that had been threatening became a reality. You don't ever want to see thousands of zombies go crazy at the same time. Just like sharks they were biting and snapping at everything animate or otherwise. David said he watched them take huge chunks of flesh out of each other and then spit them out. I heard Lee telling Anne about watching some of the mutants eat other zombies by ripping a chunk out of one and stuffing it in its mouth and then ripping the arm off of another and eating it like a drumstick before reaching into the stomach cavity of yet another and pull intestines out to eat them like thick spaghetti.

And if the zombies were doing that to each other you can just imagine the havoc they wreaked on the hapless NRSC recruits? I myself witnessed them up end one of the small tanks trying to get to the warm bodies inside. There were so many zombies that they clogged up the shredder and it became useless as a weapon of destruction. The foot soldiers took the worst hits. I watched them get dogpiled by dozens of zombies at a time. The only thing their body armor gave them was a few more minutes of pain and terror.


	169. Day 211

**Day 211 (Tuesday) – February 27**

I can't believe I dozed off in the middle of my journal entry last night. I'm not the only one who sat down for a second only to wake up an hour or two later, but I'm still a bit embarrassed.

By my best count the booby trap explosives took out no less than three of those big armored vehicles and two of those little tanks. That didn't stop things though. It came down to the .50 caliber and our other homemade bombs.

We were surprised that none of the NRSC vehicles had mounted guns. We found out today … I'll write how in a bit … that the lack of mounted guns was a "cost control decision" and a case of underestimation of the opposition they would run into. The NRSC does have mounted guns but for patrols of the central zone and around the new capital … not for zombie combat. That really blew us away, figuratively speaking, because even many raider groups and the pirates had mounted guns and were finding ammo from some place.

The foot soldiers were too busy to target Sanctuary; they were no longer soldiers strictly speaking, but were survivors fighting against overwhelming odds the same as us. The little tanks would never have made it through our gatehouse or Wall and were frankly too busy dealing with the number of zombies they were encountering. The big armored vehicles were a different story however. We later found out that those vehicles were assigned as "rewards" to hard core NRSC "patriots." They were thought to be nearly indestructible. They were wrong.

We had several try a direct attack on us. Two of them fell to the mounted .50 caliber. Two others tried to attack the Wall from out of range of the gun. Brian got one and Austin the other using our homemade explosives. The explosives and guns didn't really stop the vehicles themselves but the drivers inside them, giving the zombies time to completely overwhelm all of those inside.

The fifth, and last, to try and take out our Wall nearly made it. Thankfully they were unable to get up enough speed to do anymore than crack the wooden skin on the Wall. The driver was quickly ripped out of the broken window and torn apart. But four of the troopers in the back of the vehicle were able to climb on top of the cab.

It was automatic. We are human. There is an instinct to save our own kind in the face of so many infecteds. We threw down a rope ladder. Three of them made it up, the fourth who was covering for his buddies was pulled off and fell to into the grasping arms of two ragers. There was nothing left for his comrades-in-arm to sanitize.

They didn't hesitate and threw their lot in with ours. They realized immediately that if they wanted to survive they needed to help defend Sanctuary. It wasn't until sunset that things had died down enough for Dix and Matt – who had set Angus and Jim to watch the new arrivals during the battle – had the time to demand that helmets and masks be removed.

My Lord, they were just kids. Two boys and one girl. The girl was the oldest at 21, the boys were 16 and 17 respectively. The 16 year old didn't even look like he had to shave yet, in fact looked younger than James did.

By the time the gloom of sunset had passed into full night the NRSC's line had moved to the west beyond our sight. They took with them about three quarters of the zombies but that still left a significant number.

We fed and watered and rested as best we could. I wasn't allowed anywhere near the NRSC kids; apparently they were concerned after my interaction with Jamie. In the end it was James and young Eric who were the most rabid at distrusting the new people. I suppose Dix was right but I did demand that we at least treat them under the Geneva Convention and made sure they had food and water as well before they were locked up for the night. There was some grumbling at that but I reminded them that they had defended the Wall without needing to be coerced into it.

As soon as I could pull Dix aside surreptitiously, I reminded him that if they were kids it might be that they were malleable. Seeing as we don't know how things are going to work out in the long run, a few less enemies in the world might come in handy at some point. Dix looked at me like maybe I wasn't quite the fuzzy sheep he expected. I don't know why folks keep underestimating me like that. I can't help if I look like someone's momma … that's what I am … but I'm also a student of history, interested in current events, and rather more cynical that I guess folks understand.

After leaving Dix I sat down to write in my journal. I simply meant to lean by head back for a moment to rest my eyes from all the smoke and writing by dim light. I woke up at 4 AM the next morning with the buzzing of a mosquito in my ear and Scott's head on my lap. I eased up and away, just managing not to wake him.

On the way to my morning ablutions, I overheard James, Samuel, and Eric discussing the NRSC kids. They were quite rabid and without mercy. I could understand Eric, he'd suffered terribly at the hands of the pirates but my own son's vehemence worried me.

I couldn't help it. Upon returning from a trip to the latrine, and finding they were still discussing the subject I joined in and reminded them of a few things.

It's not the "government" that is bad. It is the PEOPLE who currently control the government that are bad. Government in and of itself is merely a means to an end, a system without emotion or life. At the individual level we govern ourselves, our actions, so as to make our lives as easy and pleasurable to us as possible. At the family level, parents govern their children in order to raise them in such a way as to become productive members of the society in which they participate. At the local level, such as here within Sanctuary, we have come together and created a society that puts a high value on being self-sufficient and self-governing. The reason we can do that is because the members of our society, barring a few examples here and there, are responsible and strive to be agreeable and interact in constructive ways so that not only do we thrive as individuals but as a whole community.

When the USA was original envisioned great men, though flawed and imperfect its true, came together to create a government that did not limit the individual but gave the individual scope to become better, where they could strive to improve their lot in life. That vision included certain guaranteed freedoms … what we came to call The Bill of Rights … as well as a reasonably sized federal government that was there to shepherd rather that usurp individual and state rights.

At some point down the road those that managed our system of government, those that we elected, began to reinterpret individual rights and freedoms and those that elected them forgot that freedom did not come free; they lost the understanding of the concept of personal responsibility and self-sufficiency, buried as it become under the concept of entitlement. They also lost the understanding of community responsibility. No longer were orphans and widows supported by individuals who knew them and cared for them, suddenly that responsibility was seeded to the state and federal governments who were ill equipped to do the job right. Generations suffered from this. And the injustices inherent in the reinterpreted vision were perpetuated again and again.

Then an apocalyptic even occurred. Civilization began to crumble and our government that had gone from lower case "g" to uppercase "G" was in danger; and so too was the livelihood of all those that had become dependent on the Government for their cradle to grave existence. Large numbers of both good and bad people who had been part of the perpetuation of "the system" died. And into this vacuum came the NRSC.

It's not always a bad thing when change must occur. But in the case of the NRSC and their apparent takeover of the Federal system, it was. The people at the top were self-serving and megalomaniacal. To have called them sociopaths or psychopaths would not really be true. They were simply human, had found a system in which they thrived and were prosperous, and were going to defend and perpetuate that system so that they were even more powerful and prosperous. It's their methods that suck.

I asked the boys to consider just a few things before I left them. I asked them where would they stand if they hadn't experienced life here in the quarantine zone? I asked them to consider the possibility that if they really didn't know what was going on out here, if they were being given false or distorted information, would they be any more or less likely to wear the black uniform? Lastly I asked them, and Eric particularly felt this, if they had lost all they held dear and someone offered them a chance at revenge against what or who was supposed to have taken their dear ones from them, would they jump at the chance to do so, even if that meant putting on a uniform of a group you weren't in total agreement with?

As the boys left, irritated at my unwillingness to march in their parade of self-righteousness, I couldn't help but wonder if I had helped or harmed things. I turned around and nearly jumped out of my skin.

Dammit, I hate it when I squeak like that. Scott and Dix were standing there listening to what I had said to the boys. I knew they both probably had some response to make. What they said was what really surprised me however.

Dix wanted me to talk to the NRSC kids and see if I could find out anything useful. I was one of the few in the compound willing to be open minded enough to not scare the heck out of them apparently. However, I had rules I had to follow. I wasn't to promise them anything. I wasn't to interact with them except superficially. I would be the one to take their breakfast to them but I would have two guards. I was to get no more than three feet away from Curtis or Chris at any given time. If I couldn't agree to abide by those rules they would figure something else out.

Not wanting Angus or Glenn to be the "something else" I quickly said of course. Dix left to go make arrangements and Scott just sighed while looking at me.

I was right; he did have something specific to say. He was worried that I was being too kind hearted and empathetic; that I would be too soft in my handling of the new people. On the other hand he hadn't been around when I dealt with Jamie. He doesn't really know how far I'm willing to go if it is for the sake of my family … of those I now consider family. How much of a manipulator I am capable of being. How dangerous I am capable of being.

I think there are some illusions that need to be maintained in order for spouses to coexist for long periods of time. I know my dad protected mom from some of the things he had done in the military and I know that Scott has tried to protect me from some of the things that they've had to do around Sanctuary. For my part I believe it best that Scott doesn't need to know that often I am only weak when I know that his strength is sufficient to carry me. He doesn't need to know that I would be walking in there with two of my dad's knives secreted up my shirt sleeves. He also doesn't need to know that there are places that I know I can go within myself that would scare the bejeebers out of most of the people who know me … or think they do. I will always do what I need to do. It may be hard to live with, but living with my choices will always be easier for me than living without my family would be.

I wanted our prisoner to be willing to share information. I wanted a constructive interaction with them. I did plan on giving those kids a chance to show they weren't a lost cause. In the end I thought to myself, "Well, two out of three isn't bad."

"Action springs not from thought, but from a readiness for responsibility." I forget where I read that but it has stuck in my mind for years.

Breakfast for our prisoners was grits and scrambled eggs with a flour tortilla to scoop it up with served on paper plates and fresh water in paper cups. I didn't want to give them anything that could be misused. I saw too many of those "inside prison walls" documentaries not to realize that even the most innocuous item can be turned into a weapon. And our experience with the last NRSC group we came into contact with reinforced that out with extreme prejudice.

The kids wolfed down the food, amazed that everything was fresh and reasonably plentiful. They also couldn't believe we had good water. The girl, her name was Bobbi Berkshire, revealed that food and water was a problem back in the Central Zone, and an even worse problem along the NRSC supply lines. Bobbi fit her name to a tee. Tall and willowy with hair that curled in an unfortunate way that she had cut mercilessly short in an attempt to control it … and deal with the fleas and lice that had run rampant through the squads three months ago when she had been assigned to a Recovery Crew in Baja.

The 16 year old gave off the aura of someone who is surprised that not all of the survivors out in the quarantine zones weren't sicko mutants that wallowed in our own filth. He wanted to know where we kept our "pet" zombies. I thought Chris was going to start laughing outright at the poor kid. I don't know where Daniel (that was the kid's name but he hadn't grown into it yet) had been for the last seven months but he sure hadn't had much credulity knocked into him … he was as green as a fresh cut willow branch.

Landes … yeah, that really was his name and he was excessively proud of it … was the 17 year old and a right good size pain in the butt in more ways than one. The boy was arrogant and snide; two characteristics that twist my guts. He kept talking about how we should seriously consider just surrendering as it would go easier for us that way. He felt "some responsibility" since we had "assisted" their escape … I wish there was some way for me to get across just how wonked this kid sounded. Here he was, a prisoner in a compound that had withstood zombies, raiders, pirates, and everything the NRSC had thrown at us up to that point and he still made it sound like he was the one doing us a favor.

Daniel looked a little bit too much like a hero-worshipping puppy when he looked at Landes. Bobbi on the other hand wouldn't look at Landes at all; in point of fact she looked like she was having a hard time not delivery a hearty dope slap to the back of the kid's head. That gave me an idea.

I asked Bobbi in a sotto voice if she needed a little … uh hmmm … privacy. Her response was immediate and in the affirmative. I sent for and got permission from Dix to escort Bobbi to one of the vacant houses so she could wash up without having to have adolescent males watching.

Anne came with us and Chris and Curtis stood outside the front door. Anne looked at me, wondering where I was going with this or if I was going anywhere at all. I looked at her with big, innocent eyes and she got the message. But, so had Bobbi. Smart girl. Nice to know that not every female left outside the quarantine zones were air heads or butch bitches.

"You want to know what's up," she said.

"Of course we do," I admitted. "But feel free to clean up. That offer was genuine."

"Thanks. Danny is OK but Landes is a nasty little jerk off."

While Bobbi took advantage of some space and privacy … or at least as much as Anne and I were willing to give her … she explained a few things.

She was a junior at the University of Denver studying psychology and social work when the first NRS outbreak in the states had been reported. She admitted there was a lot of deterioration in the social fabric until the NRSC showed up and organized things. They stopped the panic, organized food and water distribution, helped to keep the utilities own by taking over the management of the natural gas and coal reserves, and started creating a defense force that were initially only assigned to protecting the remnants of the federal government that had relocated into the area and give support to local militias.

"Everyone should have realized something wasn't right when they started convincing the local militia members to disarm and let the NRSC handle things. It was supposed to be so the average citizen could go back to work and to taking care of their family like normal … none of us understood at the time that normal was never coming back."

It had gone downhill from that point onward in terms of personal freedoms. By the beginning of October a mandate for giving the NRSC so many hours of the week in service had been put into place ostensibly for gathering up supplies and preventing hording. By the end of the month there was an actual draft. A lot of the early draftees simply disappeared, likely victims of the early and poor planned attempts at zombie control. Things got so bad after Thanksgiving that they lowered the draft age to 16.

"That's how they got Danny. He was living with his grandparents who had a real houseful from taking in so many relatives. He was actually grateful for the chance to leave. Families of draftees are supposed to get a one-time bonus payment in food and fuel but I've heard rumors it takes forever to collect on that."

The NRSC no longer even bothers trying to make their actions seem benign. It's total allegiance to the NRSC or you are considered an enemy combatant and have your home and supplies taken away as fines, the adults are sent to outposts and the kids are funneled into the NRSC's education programs; sounds more like re-education and indoctrination.

The NRSC controls the media so the people in the Central Zones really aren't aware of how things truly are out in the Quarantine Zones. Apparently its like reporting on natural disasters. The only people to make it to the television are the stereotypes. A large, muumuu covered woman with Dolly Parton-sized assets says of the tornado, "You shoulda just heard it. It sounded like a freight train. And there was ghost lights. My granny always told me if you saw ghost lights then someone was gonna die. I just knew right there someone I loved was gonna tie and shore 'nuff my doll baby died!" At which point she breaks down in hysterical tears. Only, "doll baby" turns out to be her ancient and overfed Chihuahua that didn't die until after the storm when he choked on the twelfth doggie treat of the day.

Bobbi said that the NRSC really made the survivors in the quarantine zones sound like fruitcakes one minute and thundering hordes the next intent on taking everything away from the people in the central zone out of jealousy. And they made themselves out to be defenders of all that was good and right in the central zone and messiahs who would rescue the "deserving" from out of the quarantine zones.

"I've seen the pictures though. They weren't doctored. There are some whack jobs out here in the quarantine zones. And I've found in more than a few raider battles. What makes you people different?"

I tried to explain she was getting a skewed view. Life in the quarantine zones was hard, no mistake. Your average softy wasn't going to make it. You needed to be self-sufficient and willing to be ruthless if necessary. We did have groups like the "filthies" and pirates and raiders but personally I believed they were fewer than the survivor groups who were just trying to make their own way and better their lives. And some of those groups … particularly the filthies … likely wouldn't survive more than another year or two simply because how they lived was so dangerous.

"If you are talking about that group of low-hygiene targets south west of here the hive got them already. We dropped a beacon into their camp and they set it off early by trying to dismantle it. I guess they thought there was something valuable inside the box."

I didn't like how unconcerned she sounded but I suppose it was nothing but a fact or statistic to her. As much as the filthies had disgusted me, I still saw them as people.

"Look, you won't have any trouble with me. I'd like to shed the NRSC. It wasn't my idea to join up, I'm a draftee and we aren't anything but cannon fodder. And if you can get Danny away from Landes he'll clean up real quick. He's nothing but a puppy and can be retrained. Landes though, he's hardcore. That little bastard has dreams of becoming a member of the NRSC Council if not the damn Chairman of the Board. He's real ambitious. He's a good fighter, but it's all about where his reputation can take him and not really the cause he is fighting for. You get it?"

Yeah, I got it all right. And it was just about like I suspected in the first place. We have a cynic, a puppy, and a wannabe … and it looks like they could all be a pain in the butt.

Then I asked her about the feds and the US military. Both still exist but the federal government officials are basically figureheads. They don't have any real power. Pre-NRS the Congress had gotten so heavily infiltrated by NRSC supporters and those that owed them favors that they had were nearly a moot point as soon as New York occurred. And the Prez … well, rumor had it that he had thought he was the one controlling the NRSC when it turned out that the tail was wagging the dog. After the plane crash and the "appointment" of replacements, the NRSC came out of the closet.

As far as the military goes, that's the wild card. See there are a lot of service men and women at all levels that take their oath to protect the US Constitution extremely seriously. When the NRSC made its grab for power and for all intents and purposes nulled the Constitution many upper level military officers broke away. The Navy and the Coast Guard continue to patrol the coasts and watch for foreign incursions on US soil. They also have taken it as their solemn duty to control, if not eradicate as many violent pirate groups as possible and will work in conjunction with any coastal community that will allow them to port and trade for food and water to support their troops.

The marines are all over the place in pockets, and rumor has it that some have even taken to making incursions into the central zones to liberate some of the "camps" the NRSC has set up. The same for the Army although they are primarily vested in a few of the western and eastern quarantine zones, trying to hold some of the last military bases. The USAF partners with the Army and the Navy providing air and radar support where possible.

On occasion the US military branches will cooperate with the NRSC when they feel they have no other option as was the case here in Florida. The NRSC said either cooperate or that they would use nukes to eradicate the zombie nests. The USAF and the US Navy agreed to run tactical and surgical air strikes to encourage the zombies to head toward the coast. As irritated as I am by the bombing runs, it explained the difference in the bombing runs and the land based maneuvers; the military had striven for little to no collateral damage while the NRSC just didn't give a rat's behind who got in their way.

We had stalled for as long as we could and it was time for Bobbi to rejoin the boys. To blow a little smoke screen Anne and I carried a couple of buckets of water for Danny and Landes to wash up with. Sure enough they were disgruntled that Bobbi had been gone so long. They were only slightly mollified when they saw the water and soap we had brought for them. Of course Landes had to be a jackass.

"You gonna watch?" he said in what he thought was some kind of manly leer I guess.

Anne, in quick retort, "Watch what little boy?"

Bobbi cracked up laughing and I couldn't help but smile as well at the look on Landes' face. But then he charged catching me off guard.

I've seen Curtis move quickly more than once but he always surprises me when he does it. Landes was on his butt and on the other side of the "prison container" before I had the chance to pull one of my knives. Both Bobbi and Danny were shocked at how fast the situation deteriorated. Landes is a big boy and apparently pretty handy with his fists. Curtis is short and slight; it's easy to forget that he is a master at hand to hand defense and accidentally underestimate him.

But Curtis wasn't the only one that went into motion. One of my knives was out of its sheath on my exhale. Chris had Landes covered with his weapon and Damion and young Eric that had been outside of the door on guard duty stepped in and had Bobbi and Danny covered. And Anne … she wasn't that much of a hand with a gun but she had her own version of scary … had a taser out (probably something that Lee had built for her) and directed at a particularly tender portion of young Landes' anatomy.

From the look on Landes' face I don't think he'll do that a second time. I also have a feeling that Bobbi will enjoy putting the needle to Landes for a bit after she finished kicking the boy's butt around the container a couple of times for causing the ruckus in the first place. I hope she can defend herself. She proved useful and while I'm not sure I like her I don't exactly dislike her either. She's a still beautiful young woman without a protector and I don't think that works any better in the Central Zone than it does out here in the Quarantine Zones. Her eyes have dead spots in them where it looks like she's seen her own share of problems.

We didn't let Landes off with a scare because we were being nice. Had our weapons gone off inside that steel container we could have had some serious ricochet going on. And we weren't sure that those three were at the end of their usefulness either. At least not at the time. Had Bobbi or Danny backed Landes up however it probably would have been a blood bath. The only other thing besides trying not to get into the line of fire, that stopped me from gutting Landes was the fact that he wet his pants … from the smell of things probably something else as well. Obviously Landy-boy isn't the big bad he likes to think he is. The shame of having to clean himself up after he siting in it for a while cooled his ardor for being a bully, for a little while any way.

By that time it was lunch and the prisoners weren't my priority any longer. I made sure my family got something to eat out of the huge cauldron of soup that Becky and Tina had been cooking and then I went to see what kind of damage had been done to my gardens.

There were lots of wilted plants but a short burst with the drip hose system perked most of them back up. The lack of real sunlight was causing problems too, but there was nothing I could do about that. I pulled about a bushel of turnips that were ready and cut the first tender leaves of turnip greens. I would roast the turnips in wine, honey, and butter for dinner after cubing them and would cook the greens with some bacon grease. Betty and Reba were making a roast from the haunch of one of the Kudu that had been picked off during Noah's parade.

I hope those animals made it to someplace safe. We've had to take so many I don't know if we cut their numbers down too far for successful breeding to occur. Not to mention the hunting around here will probably be very thin for a while; at least until the animals feel safe enough to return to their old territory, if they ever do. We are going to be very dependent on our domestic animals and what we've already hunted and smoked for maybe an entire season or more.

James and Scott found me out pulling weeds and wanted to hear my version of what had occurred. They were both extremely angry. Not really at me though with everyone being on short sleep it kind of came off that way. I was too tired to fight and told them so. Dix and Matt walked up and said they'd heard Anne's side now wanted to hear mine. I said fine and went over everything we had learned from Bobbi, reminding them that it was what she said and not necessarily the whole truth, as well as what happened in the prison container.

After going over the story a couple of more times and clarifying some things I left discussing how to correct the problem of the ricochet danger. James followed me back to the house demanding to know what I hadn't just used my machete on Landes.

I tried to explain myself but wasn't doing much good. James was just too angry; not just at Landes but at anything from the Central Zone generally and anyone in a black uniform particularly. I know I need to handle this right. After World War II it was over a generation before Japanese Americans could live in relative peace without having to pay the price for what Japanese nationals had done at Pearl Harbor and in the Pacific. It's taken nearly as long for Americans of German decent to shed the shadow of the Nazi regime. Pre-NRS many Middle Easterners were painted with the same broad brushstrokes that were used to characterize terrorists that claimed to be Muslim extremists … even the ones that were Christian for generations. All that mattered was skin color or ethnicity.

That way lays continued destruction. I don't want that for my kids. For one thing it is too easy. You don't really have to think about a person, or justify your actions, when all you see is a color or language or whatever it is that makes them different from you. I didn't expect everyone to live in harmony and happiness with rainbows and candy canes. I did expect personal responsibility and accountability. I did expect people to prove their worth and value and to earn respect rather than feel like they were entitled to it. Not everyone is going to get along all the time. There may even be groups that don't get along most of the time. So be it, but let it be for valid reasons and not just how someone was born or the family they were born into.

"James, honey, I wish I had the words to make everything that has happened right and back the way they used to be. Even if I could though I don't know if I would want to erase all the growing and maturing you've done … that I've done. You have a right to be angry. But put your anger to constructive use. Don't blast it widely and indiscriminately. Hold each individual responsible for their own actions. Yes, Landes has turned out to be a real punk. You were right that time. But Bobbi and Danny still have the potential to become informed and then to choose a different path. Landes too for that matter though I think he will probably get his fool self killed before he changes his ways."

"God mom, we aren't in church and I don't need a sermon."

"And I'm not giving you one so don't be a smart aleck. I'm just telling you that you need to be thoughtful about things … not to think 'em to death but so that when you do take action it has the greatest impact for good and the greatest level of constructiveness that you can attain at that point."

"Is that why you went after Samson and all those other crazy things that you've done?"

"I thought I asked you nicely not to talk to me like that? Look, I'm not telling you that I'm the perfect example. What I'm trying to do is share with you the fact that I'm aware that I make mistakes and they are mistakes I don't want you to make. You'll make your own. I'm bad about acting hot-headed. I've got a temper. It's put me in situations that could have had a serious impact on your dad, you and the other kids not to mention on Sanctuary in general. Things have generally turned out well but they could just as easily have gone the other direction. All I'm asking you is to put more thought into the prejudices you are choosing to have. Make them logical and directed towards the ones that are truly accountable."

"You mean just let all those troopers off without any kind of penalty for following bad leaders."

"No, but make the punishment fit the crime."

"And how am I supposed to do that?!"

"Honey, if I had the answer to that … Look, for whatever reason it seems the NRSC has been able to horn swaggle a lot of people in the Central Zone. Not everyone, but quite a goodly number. But from what I heard it sounds like the tide is turning. People that make the choice to change direction on their own will likely stay the new course much better than those that are coerced or forced into making a change."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't sound like they are changing fast enough."

"How do you know? For one, we don't even know with 100% surety that what we learned from Bobbi is the whole truth or even a half truth."

"Why do you do this?"

"Do what?" I asked confused at the sudden change in subject.

"This … this … I don't know what to call it. You always make things hard."

"What? Because I'm asking you to think?"

"Yeah," he answered more quietly. "It's easier just to be mad. I don't want to think about them being real people. They are just the enemy."

"Well, to me that sounds too close to what the NRSC is doing. They are forgetting … or don't care … that there are people left out here in the Quarantine Zones. I don't intend on being just as bad as they are. Whatever we wind up building, I want it to be better than it was before."

"Let me guess … umm … nirvana? Paradise?"

"There's that smart mouth again. And no, that's not what I mean. Frankly I think we humans will always need something to battle or we'll grow soft and start battling each other over stupid stuff. The sharpest swords are created from the flames. I'd rather keep battling zombies the rest of my life than to go back to the mess our country had been heading towards before. But if we have a chance to change and be something better I don't see why I shouldn't keep pushing for that to happen."

"Whatever. I've got to go on duty."

Lord I felt old at that moment. I'm not really idealistic but I do believe in having ideals. I believe there are things worth striving for even if we know they are 99.9% unattainable in this life. This life we were leading has changed my children in ways I never expected it to. For good or bad I was going to have to learn to live with that.

I went back to my bedroom to wash my face and to try and freshen up a bit. Scott came in while I was changing shirts and grabbed me around the waist and in a cuddle hug and told me, "I've been informed by my suddenly enlightened 16 year old son that God made women solely to give men a hard time."

"Oh? And how did he come to this state of enlightenment?"

Scott just laughed and nuzzled my neck. "Don't worry about it. One of these days he'll learn to appreciate it."

"You don't think I'm making more of this than I should?"

"I'm thinking you just want your kids to have a good life and this is your way of trying to ensure it."

"That's not an answer of yes or no."

"Well sugar, that's the only answer you're gonna get. Just ease off a bit. You've given him something to think about, now give him some space to do the thinking. Belaboring the point every time he turns around isn't going to work."

"And you know this because you're a guy."

"I know this because I love you and know you want to fix things right away when sometimes it would be better if you would just give things time to fix themselves … and because I'm a guy."

I mumbled and groaned a little bit in complaint but admitted to myself, if not him, that I knew he was right. Beating a dead horse wasn't going to make it get up and walk any sooner.

Scott and I were necking a little when Johnnie and Bubby come crashing in, stopped short and went, "Ewwwww!"

Scott said, "I forgot to lock the door." I said, "You forgot to lock the door." And then we both couldn't do anything but laugh.

Rose called from the other room, "Um, Dad … Mom … you need to come out here right away! They need you outside!"

Rose is normally so self-contained. Scott and I knew right away it had to be something extraordinary for her to get this obviously excited.

As soon as we stepped out the front door we heard it. That distinctive "chop-chop-chop" of large fan blades. It was a helicopter … a big one, not one of the news or traffic helicopters that I was used to seeing around town so many months ago. Not even an emergency medical helicopter. It was even bigger than that helicopter out of that move Black Hawk Down, at least I think so but what do I know. All I know is that it was big sucker with a huge down draft. No one has slowed down long enough since so I could ask.

Oh, and it wasn't black … it was kind of a grayish color; definitely military, possibly Navy since it came from a carrier out in the Gulf but it could be one of the Marines' aircraft since that was what was on board. Either or. I was excited and scared at the same time. There is just something about the sight of the US military that always makes me think of Daddy and growing up a military brat.

We have guests.

I haven't been formally introduced yet. The troops they had on board are camped off to one side of the helicopter and the guys in charge are holed up with Dix, Matt, and several others. The troops are eating rations they brought with them but we managed to have enough veggies and roast to feed the officers on board.

Scott was able to relay me a little info so that I wouldn't get too wound up and worried. They definitely were US Military. They were trying to transport out any recoverable equipment … not to the NRSC but for their own use. The NRSC line has been decimated with only about ten percent of their original force making it to the rendezvous point for extraction. The NRSC troops are not very happy with their commanders at the moment.

And nor is the citizenry in the Central Zone who got to see some of the fiasco beamed right into their homes; at least until the NRSC was able to retake the local broadcasting stations. An active civil war erupted in an attempt to oust the NRSC from the Central Zone. It's turning into a blood bath for both sides. They expect that the civil war will last throughout the next several months, possibly only coming to a complete halt when winter sets in again.

The US Military has been as devastated by NRS as the rest of us civilians; in some ways even more so. Trained personnel for some of the equipment are few and far between because of all of the specialization required. And spare parts are also a problem. Much of the equipment that was scavenged from military bases was confiscated by the NRSC. The military is slowly retaking this equipment but there are still serious shortages.

For the moment there are as many anti-military people in the Central Zone as there are anti-NRSC. Because of this the military will remain observers of the main battles. Their main goal is to retake the strategic bases within the Central Zone and remove the nuclear threat.

That's about all I know at the moment. Oh, and that they've agreed to take our three prisoners off our hands. Bobbi is more than willing to go. Danny is scared that he is in some kind of trouble but has also become enthralled by the medic that had been aboard the helicopter.

Well, I guess I do know something else. Sickness is becoming a huge problem and the mortality rates that existed prior to the wide-availability of antibiotics and life-extending health care are returning. The military are now very careful about taking prisoners or civilians in without first giving each one as thorough a field exam as possible.

The medic was pretty amazed that we've managed as well as we have without any major problems. He was purely blown away at how healthy the kids were, and was extremely interested in how well the kids that had been abused by the pirates had come back.

That's when I got pulled into the conversation. Ski embarrassed the heck out of me. I tried to explain that I wasn't doing anything other than what I had done before what they are calling "The Fall." We try and plan three decent, nutritionally balanced meals per day. I'll feed the kids vitamins every day until they finally run out. It's just part of our routine, even for the teens and young adults. We are careful with our water and Ski doesn't tolerate anyone not reporting injuries, even if they are "minor" ones.

But then he got into the herbals and natural remedies. I'm no homeopath, I just try and use some commonsense. I just try and use more traditional methods in cases where medications might not be available or where it might not be the best use of the medication. For instance, when I have a headache I'll drink a cup of betony tea … not the tastiest tea available but better than using our Tylenol or Exedrin that could be better put to some other use. I use a cold thyme tea for a child's fever. I have a cayenne pepper mix that is the bomb for warding off the flu or helping to keep it mild if you do catch it. And for a bit of energy I'll mix a tablespoon of honey into a tablespoon of cider vinegar and then add that to a glass of cold water. It actually tastes pretty pleasant, like a cider lemonade.

I explained that my philosophy was moderation in all things. I'm not totally hung up on natural remedies nor am I totally against the benefits of modern medicine; I'm just trying to marry the two of them into a commonsense approach so that we get the biggest bang for our buck out of the supplies we have.

Rose and Melody said that they helped one of the young injured female soldiers. She got a little roughed up during a brawl with a couple of NRSC troopers a couple of days back and one of the scrapes on her back is trying to get infected. She is only one of two females on the helicopter … now that I'm thinking about it I think she called it a Stallion although that might just have been a joke … the other female is an officer and was talking with the men.

I'm very tired. It seems like forever since I got a decent night's sleep. I don't want to go to bed but I don't think I have much choice at this point; it's either go to bed or fall asleep on my feet and fall flat on my face. James, who is nearly as wary of the military as he is the NRSC, is still on guard duty. Angus said he slept for a few hours in one of the guard houses but I could tell at dinner that he is getting that drawn look he gets when he gets too tired and then tries to get sick. I'll get Scott to talk to him tomorrow; I doubt he'd take anything I said with any pleasure right now. David isn't much better but he tends to be wary of everyone even after he's known them for a while. Scott is up and wired which worries me as much as James being overly tired.

I put the littles to bed when the medic from the helicopter was through giving them a looksee. The medic said very young children are rare outside of the Central Zone, the life it too hard and there are too many dangers. That makes me very sad. It sounds like we may have lost nearly an entire generation out in the Quarantine Zones. Pregnancies that make it to full term without complications are just as rare apparently … in all the zones.

I want Scott to come to bed soon. The helicopter brought some hope and excitement but that's beginning to wear off as reality … the wider reality we are facing … sets in. There are still many thousands of zombies outside the Wall. And now we know for certain that no place has been spared. There isn't a Calvary that is waiting in the wings for the right moment to ride in and help us. The troubles that we could have left behind by combining efforts of dissimilar philosophies continue to hamper recovery efforts in our country. And I'm not sure I even want to know what is going on in the rest of the world.

It's as we always suspected but never wanted to really give up hope of something different … we're on our own.


	170. Day 212

**Day 212 (Wednesday) – February 28**

Full day today. Not bad, not good, just … I don't know … just kind of anticlimactic I guess. We are still stuck and I was hoping for some type of resolution. I guess in this life you don't always get what you want when you want it.

We fed breakfast to the military as well as the three NRSC personnel this morning. Landes had a snotty attitude but was kept in check. Danny was very subdued though he continued to watch that medic like a hawk. I know that Landes was giving some heck over it; guess he didn't like losing his sycophant. Found out after breakfast, from Bobbi, that Danny's father was an EMT and his grandfather a volunteer firefighter which might explain the fascination.

So that made 15 extra for breakfast and I just decided to do up pancakes. I threw a big griddle on the outdoor grill that we had built to go with the wood cook stove, so with both work stations up and running we were just able to keep up with the crowd. Betty and Reba browned sound ground sausage and mixed in onions and peppers for those that wanted a little protein with their cakes. Regular pancake syrup is getting to be a luxury and will likely stay that way until the sugar cane makes. If it doesn't I can only hope that the beehives that Mr. Morris is tending do well. The bees certainly haven't like the smoke we are suffering with.

Not long after breakfast was completed the helicopter prepared to leave. Landes must have run his mouth. He left in those plastic ties (as opposed to handcuffs) but Bobbi and Danny did not. I don't expect to see those three again but I hope wherever they do wind up they put their youth and enthusiasm to good use.

The helicopter's departure left a hole. They weren't even here for 24 hours yet the presence was pretty significant. Of course we still have the zombies for company. According to word received today, there has been a complete pull back of NRSC troops out of the Quarantine Zones. I guess they are trying to secure their position in the Central Zone. We'll have to wait on info from that. But that means that we get to deal with and clean up the mess they left behind.

The only relief in regard to the zombies is they appear to be reforming a horde and moving ever so slightly moving in a westwardly directly. I'm not going to count on it, but it does at least seem that way. I just hope it's not wishful thinking on our parts.

I spent the remainder of the day helping to go over the inside of the Wall. Things have held together incredibly well all things considered. The outside of the Wall needs some repair but the wooden skin served its purpose and we don't have any breeches in the still containers that comprise most of the Wall's structure. There hasn't been any undermining of the foundation either which is good news as well.

While checking on various stretches of the Wall I also checked on the gardens. We desperately need rain. I gave everything another spurt with the soaker hoses and did some spot watering where it was particularly bad but that left our garden cisterns half empty. Tomorrow, if we are still corralled inside Sanctuary, Scott says he will see if he can start digging ag wells out by each garden and set up some solar power for them. The motor wouldn't have to be a big one if the well isn't deep and all I want to do is run soaker hoses so the pressure wouldn't have to be that great either. We probably have all the parts he needs in the storage containers, it will just be a matter of actually hitting water and running the lines.

Lunch was an impossible chicken pot pie that I helped to make using canned chicken, canned veggies, some creamed soups, and some Bisquick that was nearing the end of its life. It didn't appeal to everyone but at least every fourth meal or so I'm trying to use up ingredients from our storage that are just about to go off. I'd rather have a less than stellar meal right not than have no meal at all later because we used up all of our favorite food first and the less desirable stuff was left to spoil on the shelves.

Dinner was a bit better than lunch though I think no one was much in the mood to eat except that it filled up the time. We made a pork stew from one of the warthogs that we took a while back and added turnips that came from the garden to go with some of the dried veggies that we used. We made huge pans of cornbread rather than biscuits because we are starting to ration the flour we have.

From reports from the military the fire is still very bad but it has moved closer to the coast. I know there are – were – a lot of small survivor groups along the coast. I hope they are able to move out of the way. The map of the fire's path of destruction is pretty bad. That's one of the things that Matt and Dix were able to find out from the military officers. Every step forward seems to be four or five steps back for the Quarantine Zones. If I wasn't so certain that there was no such thing as fairness in this life I'd complain about it.

I suppose the one positive thing that we can say about the fire is that it was so hot with no mitigation that where it burned it was alike cauterizing a wound, burning off the chaff, or any other simile that you might think of. With a little bit of rain, by this coming winter those areas will return to the wild so quickly they'll be unrecognizable; by next year you won't even be able to tell that people ever lived in some of those areas. Hopefully that will take care of some of the rodent and roach problems Florida was having and which likely would have gotten worse.

Thinking about pest animals reminds me of something strange I saw today. Lucky has gotten where she will leave her kittens for longer stretches. We try and save some scraps for her to eat so she can nurse but between her and the dogs and puppies there just isn't all that much. I've been worried that our dogs and cats will go after our domestic livestock if they get too hungry but so far we are doing OK. But to be on the safe side I've started mixing grains into their food portions hoping to push that problem away.

Well, I went to take Lucky some food after lunch and she wasn't there. Everyone knows not to mess with the kittens so I just was listen to them in the box but hadn't gone over there yet. I could hear them mewing and scuttling about but then I heard one of them let out a little squeak with a lot more rustling. I wanted to make sure nothing had crawled over in there.

When I looked over in the box, there was a little raccoon kit in there grooming the kittens. Then here comes Lucky, she hops in the box and then starts momma grooming all of the kittens … including the raccoon kit. Looks like she adopted an orphan. I had this surreal moment of kinship watching Lucky. I don't know what will come of the Cat/Raccoon adoption but it should be interesting.

Scott just came in from guard duty and he said that it looks like the zombies are really starting to move to the west. Hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to witness this migration. Hopefully we'll begin hearing how other survivor groups tomorrow. Dix thinks everyone is being cautious because of the NRSC and because of the zombies. At least we hope that is the problem; we don't want it to be because they've been wiped out by the fire, or worse by the infecteds.

That's about as far into the future as we can plan at the moment. Until these zombies move on we are pretty much stuck bugging in here at Sanctuary and I can already tell that some folks are starting to get a little cranky at the restriction.


	171. Day 213

**Day 213 (Thursday) – March 1**

Another milestone, the turning of another month. March, if it comes in like a lion it is supposed to go out like a lamb. Raspberries on that. We need rain and we need it badly. Bring on some lions already.

According to the records we are keeping we are already down two inches in rain for the year. Doesn't sound like much but that is a lot considering this is already our dry season. I know the gardens are already suffering and we need whatever we can bring in. We've got the animals to feed and ourselves. I had the kids walking down all the rows of corn and hand watering the plants. I know that seems really stupid but I don't know what else to do. We've got to have that corn crop and not just for the men's stupid corn liquor. If I hear one more word about that still I swear I'll take an ax to it more thoroughly than an old time revenuer.

"We'll trade for it." That's the only answer anyone seems to have when I tell them that I'm worried the gardens aren't going to make. "We'll trade for it." From who?! With what? For what?! I tell you what, if they try and use one kernel of that corn for making mash before I've got enough canned and dried for the next couple of seasons and I swear I will make a Rager look like Barney the Purple Dinosaur.

And if we can't trade for it they think we'll just keep scavenging for it. It was bad enough after the Big Horde. Trees and bushes down all outside the Wall and they were just really getting to where I thought we'd be able to get another season out of them. Now we've had a Hive come through … and those idiots with their armored vehicles tearing up everything every which way from Sunday. And the destruction runs for freaking miles in all directions. What the Hive and the NRSC hasn't destroyed it looks like the fire may have.

There's been a little bit of noise on the radio; not much, and none of it good. We still haven't heard from OSAG. I hope Steve and his clan are all right. The NRSC had a hard on against them. Steve told them in a way that no one could misunderstand that they could go screw themselves. I hope to high heavens that they came through OK. If we can just get these stupid zombies to finish going away, or at least thinning out, then Scott, Angus, and Jim said that they would run over there and check things out. Matlock and Glenn are eager to see if Aldea survived and in what shape.

I had the kids on bucket brigade most of the day. They'd take turns pumping water from the hand pump and then running buckets of water to refill barrels and cisterns. That left the kids exhausted and many nearly fell asleep during dinner. Do I feel badly? Yes. Did I do it anyway? Yes. Its necessary.

I'm so tired I can barely think straight myself but my back is hurting so bad and my left arm has the shakes so I'm up waiting to see if some herbal tea helps before I go begging for something from Waleski.

It all started this morning. It was still dark, about 4 AM I guess. I was on guard duty on that piece of the Wall that surrounds the pasture area. Right beneath my position something suddenly hits the Wall hard enough to create a vibration in the metal all the way up. My first thought was that the NRSC vehicle right below had somehow been started up again and was trying to make its way inside our perimeter.

There was no moon so it's not like I could see what was going on exactly. And then came another hit and then another but these felt like they were hitting higher than the first one had. I didn't see as I had a choice despite it giving our position away. I heard the boots of the other guards coming in my direction. I hit the spotlight to see what the noise was.

By all that is Holy!

I have seriously, not in the seven long months since this all started, seen anything like this … this … this thing. Or zombie. Or … it was an NRS infected. It had on one of the black uniforms that designated it as one of the NRSC troopers … or that it used to be one … what was left of one.

I didn't have time to think. It was staring right up into my face though there is no way that it could have seen me with what was left of its face.

I brought the shotgun down that Scott had insisted I keep with me when I was on guard duty at night. He said I wouldn't have to have perfect aim, just the general direction of anything that got close enough to warrant its use in the first place. But I was so badly startled that I forgot where I was. On the Wall. On a smooth metal surface.

I'm terrible with the shotgun. I'm too short … OK, not too short but I just never have gotten the hang of centering my body correctly. And I don't get enough practice with the shotgun either. We have to watch ammo so gratuitous target practice is now out. So when I brought the shotgun up and around and aimed for the general direction of its head I didn't take the time to balance myself properly.

I pulled the trigger and just managed to take the very top of the things head off. In the process however I fell backwards, lost my balance and hit the chain that we were using hard enough to snap it. I cartwheeled backwards and came down on the catwalk we had attached to the second level of the Wall.

Apparently I hit the sturdier guard rail on the catwalk and was bounced back onto the steel mesh floor where I stayed put because I had knocked myself out cold at some point on the way down.

I woke when they were moving me onto a gurney to take me to the clinic. There is almost nothing worse than having those small hairs at the very base of your hairline get stuck on something and yanked on. My hair had come loose from my braid and a few hairs had wrapped around a screw or bolt and when they moved me … youch! I don't know who was more startled, me coming awake like that or David and James who were carrying the backboard with me on it.

It took some convincing but they finally put me down and let me catch my breath. I have a goose egg sized bump on the side of my head and I've already started to bruise a nice bright purple but otherwise I think I was more shook up than actually injured. Scott was upset too but I think it was the sight of that ghastly thing that helped everyone get over the fright of my fall.

It had definitely been an NRSC trooper in its human life. Part of the banging I heard was the body armor hitting the Wall every time it jumped. Yeah. It was a climber … well, sort of.

I thought back to the things that we've learned up to this point about the zombies. The mutations are dependent on blood type and what type of infected then infects the human. However, there are also variations that can be caused by some blood and neuro disorders or some recessive genetic traits. This boy … or girl, I couldn't tell and haven't wanted to ask … must have started out A- blood type. That gave it the "climber" variant of NRS; but it must have had something else going on. Jamie hadn't learned all of the "typing procedures" before he died and if the military had known that data they hadn't shared it with us.

The body's feet and hands were gone. The only thing left were sharp, broken bones where they had been gnawed off by the zombies that brought it down when it was still human. A lot of the soft tissue on its face was also missing. But, what remained of its skin had started to grow … tumors I guess you'd call them. But not tumors like the zombie-eating zombie mutants. These tumors … well … these tumors moved. It reminded me of a sea anemone only anemones are pretty. These things were just plain nasty looking and a pale, sickly white like it had never seen sunlight.

Even after I'd blown the top of the brain off and for all intents and purposes stopped the NRS zombie, those tumors continued to move for another two hours before the whole corpse finally went into advanced decay. In fact we had never seen a zombie decay so quickly before. It must have had something to do with either the disease the human had suffered from or the tumors were continuing to feed off of the corpse even after I had stopped the NRS part of it.

I hope to never see anything like that zombie again. The Mutant zombies with their black tumors are bad enough, this thing was in a whole 'nother category of horrific. It sunk its bone stumps so far into the wood that it was impossible to detach as a whole piece. We had just about decided to cut it off and dig the bones out of the wood later when the decay process started. There are still some remnants of it attached to the Wall but most of what remained of the flesh and skeletal structure has fallen down to the ground.

I didn't really get sore from the fall until late in the day. I kept myself pretty busy, mostly to prove to everyone (and myself) that I was OK. I worked in the garden and started the next cycle of crops that need to be planted: bush beans, pole beans, lima beans, cantaloupe, corn, cucumbers, eggplant, okra, blackeyed peas, peppers, sweet potatoes, pumpkins, summer squash, winter squash, tomatoes, watermelon, turnips, beets, carrots, collard greens, kohlrabi, lettuce, mustard greens, peanuts, radishes, and Swiss chard. Some of these I planted at the beginning of last month but I'm trying to keep everything from being ready for harvest all at the same time. I was hesitant to plant more corn because of the drought but I just don't feel I have any choice. I have to try.

I'm going have to give up. I've really pinched something in my back I think. As soon as Scott comes in from the dining hall pow-wow that started even before everyone had finished eating I'll wander over to the Clinic and see if anyone is there.


	172. Day 214

_**Author's Note:** Thanks for everyone's patience. Been dealing with recuperating from vacation. Then the recuperation turned into a head cold which then turned into bronchitis. Not nice. Definitely not nice. Ugh. Back on the road to recovery but the meds have knocked me on my can. Hopefully over the next week I will get everything back on track. Now enough about me and the endless empty boxes of tissues and bottles of disgusting tasting medicine ... on with the story._

* * *

 **Day 214 (Friday) – March 2**

On the good side of the equation … the zombies are definitely moving westward. Well, staggering westward. OK, some of them are crawling westward. Oh alright … some of them remind me of the scene at the end of that crazy movie _Flight of the Living Dead_ ; or any of the other awful zombie movies that Scott and I watched over the years. I mean, things that shouldn't be possible are. Things that only weird and disturbed individuals should imagine are now part of our daily reality.

I wouldn't say that life sucks. No. I definitely wouldn't say that. Life isn't easy. You can't just coast through life these days like you could before. There is no entitlement to life these days. You have to work to retain your life and the lives of your children. But in a sense that is what makes it more valuable. You only value those things you have to put effort into attaining and keeping.

People stopped valuing life when it became too cheap. This is the way it used to be: What's a little murder when there are way too many people in the world anyway? What's being a bad parent when you can just make another one just like them to replace them if they get taken away or they die? Why not be a portly couch potato when there are lots of doctors and medications and operations that can take care of the consequences of that later? Why not screw up your family life because you can always get married and divorced until you find your "perfect" mate and you don't need any kids to muck up your retirement years anyway? After all, it's all about being the center of the universe and doing what feels right and good at any given moment. No absolutes should be enforced because that would limit a person's "rights." The stupidity of far too many people used up all of the oxygen in the world that kept us all sane.

Now it's not like that anymore. Mother/infant mortality has skyrocketed. Children outside of family groups are an apparent rarity. Family group members (whether biological or sociological) work together for a common goal of survival. Communities work together because together the members can accomplish more than they can separately. People put more thought into their choice of mate because of how important that other person could become to their survival.

But there is still the factor that there are a lot fewer humans populating the world than there used to be. Sometimes regardless of what type of person, your first instinct is to save them before you judge them. That explains why we rescued the NRSC troopers when during a regular battle or war we would likely not have. It wasn't human vs. human like in a raid, it was human vs. zombie and the instinct of one human to help another over road everything else.

We here in Sanctuary likely model all of those issues to one extent or the other. Even our singles who have no current interest in any kind of "hook up" with the opposite sex are careful about the relationships they do build. Everyone tries to be more discerning; both in their own choices and in understanding the choices of others.

Now for the bad side of the equation today … the ag wells for the gardens are much more difficult to dig than the one where we were able to water drill it. Scott has an auger but it's not anywhere near long enough. We either need a longer auger or we need some other type of tool. Scott thinks he could devise something using a compressor but that would mean hooking up one of the generators. That would also mean possibly distracting the zombies from their westward migration.

Caught between a rock and a hard place is what we are. We must have the zombies move out of the area but we must also have water. Without water our crops are going to die. Without water our animals will die. Without water we will die. But if the zombies don't leave then we are stuck inside this Wall and the same thing will ultimately happen to us anyway.

We have access to our hand pump and the well that is hooked up to solar near our house but hauling that water is very physically intense. We can get by for now so it was decided that we would wait another day, two at most, to see if the zombies are truly going to continue to move out and then we will see whether we can afford to wait on the ag wells.

I spent a good chunk of the day watering in the gardens by hand again … and again with the children's help. We were all exhausted by the end of the day but it is necessary, especially with the new seeds that I put into the ground yesterday.

Scott organized some of the men to finish pulling down some of the buildings within Sanctuary that have been too damaged to be used as housing. He wants to get it done as soon as possible as he really feels that as soon as possible a significant number of our community members will likely occupy Aldea if it is still possible. Matlock and Glenn seem to be extremely keen on this and spend a good deal of time with some of the others making plans.

I can also tell that Angus and Jim are getting antsy and wanting to simply get out and see how things stand. Those two get itchy feet more than anyone else in Sanctuary. Scott used to be like that but I think he has curbed much of his wanderlust because he knows that something could happen and then I'd be left to raise the kids by myself.

I want to mention that Dix is pretty sick. He opened a package of jerky – none that we made but some that we had collected – and I guess he didn't notice that it had some mold down in the farthest corner of the package. The poor man puked almost nonstop for a while no matter what we did and he was running a low grade fever as well. We finally figured out it was food poisoning and where it came from but it's just going to have to run its course. There isn't a whole lot that we can do for something like that now that he has already puked everything up. We all must be more careful. If that had been one of the kids it could have been much worse. Or it could have gone into a meal and the whole compound could have come down with food poisoning.

As for my own injuries I've been hobbling all day. I've got a lump that is a hematoma on the back of my left shoulder and my bra has been absolutely killing me. I've switched to a sports bra but that hasn't helped much because I still have a good dent between my shoulders where the bra clasp dug in. I'm pretty much sore all over for that matter. I'll live but I'm going to be pretty shades of color for a bit longer than I expected. It could have been worse so I feel I need to be grateful but I would have been even more grateful not to have fallen at all or not to have run into that freaky zombie.

The zombie has been discussed off and on today by everyone. Josephine and Brandon have started a catalog of zombies and the observations and research data that go along with each will be kept in the library. I'm not sure that it will be of any immediate usefulness but at least it will be available for posterity and for us to refer to if we should need it.

As for the bottom line, we are probably better off than we have any right to expect. Yes, we have some very serious challenges facing us but for now they are not insurmountable challenges. What tomorrow will bring is anyone's guess.


	173. Day 215

**Day 215 (Saturday) – March 3**

Man oh man, when they say it's the second day after an accident when you are the most sore they weren't kidding. My mind knows that I'm 42 but my body is telling me it's closer to 102. Scott and the kids were so sweet I just busted out crying and freaked them all out.

By the dinner time I was so whooped that I didn't even feel like eating. Rose took Kitty and Sissy while the rest of the kids went with Scott. I was just going to lay down but couldn't manage to do much more than sprawl across the bed. After dinner was bath time for everyone so I knew I was going to have to get up shortly anyway. I must have dozed 'cause the next thing I knew a freshly washed and combed Scott said he'd already taken care of the kids and that my bath was ready.

Well, I didn't think much of it except to kiss him in gratitude for taking care of the kids for me. We've been using the term bath and shower interchangeably but really all there were available was showers. I gather up my towel and scrub brush and go to the lanai to cut around to the outdoor shower space we have set up. But as soon as I stepped out onto the lanai I noticed that someone had brought the big wash tub in. And it was full of water. It was full of warm water.

I was still half asleep but still managed to jump pretty good when Scott came out with the decorative screen from out bedroom.

"Sorry, no bubble bath since we'll have to use this water tomorrow for watering the garden. Go ahead and climb in while it is still warm."

I must have stayed in the tub for nearly an hour. I'm embarrassed to say that it felt like I was soaking an inch deep layer of grime off my whole body but it felt soooooo gooooooood. I haven't felt this clean since I don't know when. It's like a sandy beach in the bottom of the tub but I don't care.

I had a hard time climbing out so Scott had to help and then I took three Tylenol. I'm still sore, but it's a distant sore rather than a sharp and in your face kind of sore. I just put on a robe and have been sitting here on the lanai writing and enjoying probably some of the last nice weather before the really warm stuff starts setting in. It's already getting up into the 80s during the day. At this rate we'll see 90 degree weather before the month is out.

The rotten sour smell from the smoke and zombies wasn't even too bad. Well, either that or I'm just getting used to it.

Angus and Jim took Juicer and cleared the outside of the Wall. That was a mess and a half. Glenn wants to try and salvage the armored vehicle that tried to take on Sanctuary head on. The plow thing on the front is hung up in the wooden skin and is going to require cutting it out so it will just have to sit there until the zombie population is brought back under control.

Rather than just mashing everything together Angus managed to just kind of pile everything off to the side. I gag thinking about it, but we are going to have to figure out some way to go through all of the corpses for ammo and anything salvageable like those pieces of Kevlar and that plastic looking armor the NRSC troopers were using.

And I know there has to be something interesting that we can use the tracks off of the small tanks and those sling blades for, my imagination just doesn't want to spit it out right now. The only thing I can come up with would be to reinforce the main road here in Sanctuary … the asphalt and concrete is completely gone in areas now leaving only stretches of eroding limerock. Or possibly to prevent erosion along the edges of the canals.

Speaking of being innovative ... It's going to take a major amount of work but David thinks he has come up with a way to ensure a steady supply of renewable food here in Sanctuary requiring very little long term work on our part. At the bottom of one of the canals that were included into Sanctuary on the last Wall expansion is a spring. The spring doesn't have much volume but even during the hottest and driest summer there is a section that always has standing water that is about five feet deep.

David thinks that while the water is as low as it is right now would be a good time to dredge out the canal a little better and then shore the embankment with broken concrete, etc. The dredged out dirt will go to fill in the huge raised garden that I started. Then once we get more rain and the newly deepened canal fills up, we can catch fish from water sources outside of Sanctuary and start our own "fish farm" as it were.

David thinks that we can definitely have a healthy catfish population but he's suggesting we try and put fish in all of the ponds and canals. No gators should be able to enter Sanctuary … we managed to find and close the underwater gap in that one canal; it was an old storm drain that became exposed as the canal has dried up. If we can really make this work we can have bass, gar, bowfin, sunfish, bluegill, and crappie.

We'll have a year up on Aldea … everyone talks like it is still there so I guess that's what we'll assume unless we find out otherwise … for the garden and we have our own citrus grove and wild fruit grove. But Aldea will have access to the river for power and transportation. I can see how the two communities could work hand-in-hand. Sanctuary would grow the majority of the crops and fruit and Aldea would be a strategic and trading center. There would be some things that would remain a specialty of Sanctuary and some things that would become a specialty of Aldea.

Initially everything for Aldea would need to come from Sanctuary. It's going to take time and a lot of effort for them to arrange the "living quarters" the way Matlock and Glenn are talking about. But eventually Aldea will be ready to be more self-sufficient and will also have something to trade back to Sanctuary. And keeping our eggs from being all in one basket makes good strategic sense as well. At least that is the general consensus.

Glenn and Saen said that it would be easier to have rice paddies over at Aldea as the area was situated better for that sort of thing. The two areas we were talking about putting the rice paddies just aren't going to work. Maybe eventually we can engineer something but not right now. And they are going to have mosquito issues over there anyway so I guess a rice paddy isn't going to make that much of a difference in that respect. And, the Hillsborough River, even when it gets low, still continues to flow in that area and you need water for rice paddies. And they need to get it in the ground this month or they've missed the season.

Ummmm … one food subject leads off into another. Pulled my first Ruby Queen beets. They aren't as big as I had hoped for but they were good. I know not everyone likes beets but man are they great energy food. Well, I cooked the small batch and turned them into pickled beets to go with our lunch of rice and beans. Betty was so nice, she volunteered to can the rest of the beets that were ready for harvest. She's teaching anyone that wants to learn out to pressure can. All the women and girls were there and a couple of the guys did it as well. I think they were just bored and looking for something new to try.

The other things that I managed to harvest today are some of the blood oranges, some of the Valencia oranges, some calamondin, and some key limes. The calamondin is a small orange but it is really high in acid. You don't eat it fresh unless you want your face to fall in. I expected Saen to come up with some outrageously good recipe to use the calamondin in … they get used a lot is Asian cooking apparently … but she wasn't feeling very well and Glenn got all fussy and put her to bed early. As feisty as Saen is it is easy to forget just how small a woman she really is.

Tomorrow – for fun mind you since it is supposed to be a rest day – I'm going to make a couple of calamondin pies. I'll save the leftover scraps (peel and pulp) and add it to a batch of calamondin marmalade that I want to make also.

We also need to start preserving more of the loquats. This is the last month for them and they are starting to get so ripe they are falling from the trees. I'm saving all the seeds and I've got a bunch going already so hopefully they will propagate. I'm thinking that at some point it might be a good trade idea to have fruit tree and bush seedlings on hand. People are going to want to grow their own food sooner rather than later and a tree or bush that they don't have to propagate year in and year out would be a labor saving item.

And when I was weeding around the perimeter of the gardens I found some Florida betony. The betony is a type of wild radish and went really well with some other wild greens that I found. James said the fresh "salad" at dinner looked kind of like what he used to dump out of the lawn mower bag. It was mostly made up of all wild stuff … betony, dandelion, rose petals, parsley, chives, tarragon leaves, mint leaves, some basil, fennel, and a little bit of arugula out of the greenhouse. The salad dressing was pretty Spartan as well … white wine vinegar, honey, mustard, salt and pepper, and olive oil.

I'd given a lot to have seen everyone's face when they saw what was on the menu but I was too tired. Scott did bring me a tray with some dinner on it and the salad actually tasted pretty good even if it was a little more "peppery" than I normally eat it. The dressing could have done with more honey and less vinegar as well but then I like my dressings on the sweet side.

Well, I think my soak is wearing off and the sore is coming back. I'm going to take another Tylenol and crawl in bed. I saw some lightning off to the north but I think it is only heat lightning. I pray we get some rain soon. Maybe tomorrow the zombie population will be down far enough that some of the men can go out and start collecting ammo and stuff that is lying around. I don't think they will find as much as they hope but anything will be more than what we have right now.


	174. Day 216

**Day 216 (Sunday) – March 4**

There are still a lot of zombies in the area but they are mostly shamblers; the real dregs of the hive. The ones that are left are still dangerous but many of them are on the tail end of decomposition and don't seem to have enough together to pick up whatever signal that is driving their group dynamics. These zombies are definitely just moving west because they are sort of being pulled that way, like a leaf floating on top of a current. The leaf is being taken by the current; the leaf doesn't take advantage of the current.

Well, that's about as good an explanation as I can come up with anyway. We are still very careful however and a good thing too. The guys ran into one today that acted almost feral. It looked pretty fresh, especially compared to the shamblers in the area; however, it wasn't an NRSC trooper. It may have been from some survivor group. Who knows?

After a lot of discussion we don't think it was one of the Hunters that Jamie told us about. This thing wasn't single minded enough. And I don't really think it was cognizant but it sure did mimic that pretty well.

Charlene said she had seen some similar to this back near the beginning of the outbreak. She said that people that were bitten outright turned pretty quickly; however, some people that caught NRS from some other way like through a hang nail or small scratch turned very slowly. One guy she remembered turned so slowly they almost didn't realize what was happening until after he'd stopped eating rations doled out by the Red Cross and had taken to eating animals out in the palmetto stands where no one could see what he was doing. He mimicked humanity until the day he stopped talking and lured a child out to the palmetto stand instead of an animal.

That gave us a lot to think about and even more reason to be careful as we started scavenging through what we could find.

I never puked as I was going through the corpses pockets but it was close a time or two. I kept remembering that scene from _The Stand_ and told myself over and over that they were only cord wood. We have a lot of guns – mostly AR-15s and according to Matlock some variations on the Mossberg 500 and the Remington 870 – but not nearly as much ammo as the guys had hoped. Many of the guns are jammed or gunked up and will mostly have to be cannibalized for parts. In the back of a couple of the armored vehicles we did find some flame throwers believe it or not but only a quarter of them actually had any fuel. I guess they were part of their regular equipment but they didn't want them using them on this mission … or fuel is getting scarce and they never got resupplied.

Glenn is sure he can definitely fix the armored vehicle that tried to ram Sanctuary's Wall. There really wasn't anything wrong with it besides that it was stuck. He is also fairly certain that he can rebuild at least one, possibly two, of the other armored vehicles if we can find enough spare parts from the ones that we blew up. They may not be pretty, but they'll move.

The little tanks are all a washout. I wasn't the only one thinking of using the tracks as erosion preventers. Matlock wants to reinforce some of the steeper embankments along the river side of Aldea. Scott is getting a bit irritable that Matlock seems to think about how all of the stuff will benefit Aldea and doesn't seem to realize that it would be more equitable to split things between the two compounds. I know Matt is excited about Aldea's potential … but its potential still rests in what Sanctuary can provide as far as food and provisions for the first few months anyway. We might be taking it wrong – his way of saying things – I haven't decided yet. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt until he proves me wrong. I don't' even think it is intentional … more like an over excited kid who wants, wants, wants without realizing how that sounds or the consequences. 'Course Matlock is no kid and it would probably hack him off if he read this … but in my mind the principle appears the same. I want Aldea to be a success, just not at the expense of Sanctuary. We are going to have to learn to meet somewhere near the middle on this issue before it becomes a problem.

Dix is feeling better today but you can tell he is still pretty rung out. Samuel pretty much stuck close to his dad all day long but would also run back to his mom … who isn't feeling all that great either … and my Sarah told me that he is really upset and keeps thinking that he might lose one or both of his parents. Then she looked at me with her huge brown eyes and I knew she was asking for some reassurance about Scott and I. I gave it to her. How could I have done otherwise? But she is getting old enough that she is seeing that reality is a far cry from the way it used to be. All we can do is plan and work for tomorrow but live in today and just do the best we can.

You know I can't remember now when the last time I mentioned baby Kai or the other pregnant ladies. Kai is just the cutest little thing. He's ten days old and boy you should hear the little piggy go to town when he is nursing. And he has a burp that rattles windows. I always understood that to be a good thing as babies that can really burp are less likely to be colicky. Kitty had this dainty little burp that I thought was cute at first until I realized the consequences of her not getting rid of all the air in her belly. Terra and Nick moved back to their place but poor Nick looks like he isn't getting much sleep. Kai definitely has his own schedule and it doesn't have anything to do with his parents' schedule.

Rhonda is eight months pregnant. Pregnancy seems to suit her. She is just really blooming and watching her the last couple of months have made me miss pregnancy a little … a little … a very little. She's due the middle of April and unless something changes between now and then she should be fine although she has admitted to being scared about going through the labor itself. I told her I went through labor five times. Painkillers or no painkillers it hurts but when you are finished … it's like the real memory of the pain goes away. You can remember that it hurt but not the actual feeling of pain itself.

Becky is now just out of the first trimester at 13 weeks. She still upchucks in the mornings … but not every morning and not as badly. She too is the picture of health though I think she is stressing about moving to Aldea. She's keeping it to herself for the most part though she and Tina talk a lot. Just a side note that Tina and Dante' are opting to move to Aldea now. I think they are trying to escape Laura's memory. I'm not in their shoes so I won't judge them but in my own opinion you don't deal with grief by leaving it behind; it's going to follow you no matter where you go. But on the other hand, maybe a fresh start and a lot of hard work will be the best way for them to deal with things.

Patricia is the one that I'm really getting worried about. She's 27 weeks pregnant. According to the pregnancy books we've been able to find that qualifies her for her third trimester which is really wonderful considering how rough things have been for her. If the baby was born now it's supposed to have an 85% chance of survival. The closer to 40 weeks she gets the better. Rose told me that Ski would be happy if she made it to 36 or 38 weeks. We've given Patricia all the supplemental nutritional shakes that we can find. Ski also has her on pre-natal vitamins but she is still pale and anemic looking. Her blood pressure also is erratic and she may have gestational diabetes, we aren't sure. Ski worried about the baby being too big for a nature birth, we simply are not set up for a C-Section operation. All we can do is what we are doing now and that includes praying. Dix tries not to interfere in Patricia and Jack's relationship but I can tell he is worried too.

Next to that my injury seems petty. I'm still sore but I limbered up about mid-morning and the twinges only came when I over-stretched my back reaching for something or bending down. That stupid knot is still in the way of my bra strap and Waleski said it could take up to two weeks for it to go down. And sweat rolling down my back stings like crazy but even with all that I'm still grateful it's not any worse.

I took an early morning shift on the "reclamation" crew. That's when we went out and started picking up all the fallen NRSC gear. While I was out I also made note of all the plant destruction in the area. Scott took his turn with me and we worked as a team. He's pretty upset that he didn't put more effort into dismantling the houses outside of Sanctuary sooner. What the Big Horde didn't destroy the combination of the Hive and the NRSC armored vehicles did.

All the destruction has also stirred up the varmints that had taken refuge in those buildings. Samuel who had asked if he could be on our team was kept pretty busy with his slingshot and spear killing rats and mice. We also saw a few gnawed places on the Wall where it looks like some rodents have been trying get inside for protection. I guess tomorrow I will have the kids go through the steel storage containers to see if we have any more unwelcome visitors. We already set traps and poison but that only manages the population, it doesn't get rid of them all together.

Angus came over and he and Scott broke off to talk about things. I was right. Angus will float between Aldea and Sanctuary and his firehouse. He also wants to do some more traveling. Jim will likely go with him. But the main thing they talked about what how to deal with all of this destruction. We need to get rid of this stuff or it really will become a breeding ground for troublesome pests.

The houses that were primarily frame will be fairly easy to dispose of. They'll use a grapple rake and put the debris in our dump truck and then haul it down to the body dump area. When the rainy season comes back – assuming it does – a controlled burn will take care of the debris and the decomposing bodies up there. The only hitch is if this latest fire has already burned that area over. There is a good chance that it has.

The alternative will be to dig a pit; not easy here in this area with our high water table. Or, perhaps find a handy dandy sink hole. We could dump a little bit of stuff in there at a time and do a controlled burn that way. A concrete block building however is going to require more work. Some of the blocks may be able to be salvaged and set aside for later construction project. Any bricks … and there won't be many of those around here as most are fake stucco work that just look like bricks … will be salvaged as well. Some of the broken blocks can be used on the banks of the canals to prevent erosion once the dredging takes place. I have a feeling though this is going to be a huge, ongoing process of going through the debris.

Angus and Scott figure that we can drag a bunch of those construction dumpsters and line them up near by. All the burnables will go into one. All the glass and broken porcelain into another. Shingles and roofing material into another. Metal into another. Fiberglass into yet another. Etc. Etc. Etc. Anything that was actually salvageable would be put in a completely different location so that it wasn't confused with the useless debris.

The Big Fire, the Big Horde, the Raid on Sanctuary, the Hive, the NRSC vehicles, the new Big Fire started by the NRCS, and not to mention our own construction projects have all changed the map of this area. Now I know what people must have felt like during wars when they tried to find their home but only saw rubble no matter where they looked. Nothing looks as you remember it. Points of reference are gone. In just seven short months US41 has been obliterated in places and the railroad tracks that have lain in the same location for nearly a century are just gone. The drought has taken its own toll and many ponds and lakes are merely shadows of their former glory.

Trees are dying. Yards are overgrown and becoming a tropical tangle. Florida is returning to its natural state. Without some cattle to graze them over, palmettos will inherit the earth … or at least our part of the state.

And we are running low on fuel to run all the heavy equipment needed to get this work done. I'm worried we are going to be down to oxen and horses before too much longer. That will really limit the distance we'll be able to travel on any given day.

But it's not my responsibility to come up with a solution for that particular problem and I decided after lunch to get on to the canning and such that I had promised myself that I would do.

First I made the calamondin pies. I had several cans of sweetened condensed milk that looked like they wouldn't last much longer so I used them, along with half a cup of calamondin juice per can and then added some dream whip that I had mixed up … sort of like a poor man's Cool Whip. I dumped the filling into some simple pat-in-the-pan pie crusts and then moved them into the Cooler until dinner time.

I didn't feel like a big meal for lunch so I just ate some of the ever present fruit salad and a muffin. Everyone else had a serving of the vegetable soup that Reba and Betty had been simmering most of the morning.

After lunch I started making the Calamondin Marmalade. I say "start" because it has to set in the Cooler overnight to bring out the natural pectin. Basically I washed and de-seeded … then thinly sliced … about 40 or 50 calamondin fruit. For every cup of sliced fruit (I used my handy dandy mandolin slicer to spare my hands and save a lot of time) I added three-quarter cups of water. Tomorrow, after everything has soaked for the night I'll drain the fruit and then measure the stock. For every cup of liquid stock I'll add a cup of sugar. I'll bring it all to the soft crack candy stage (220 F) and then put it into jars and seal it.

I really hope that our honey harvest and the sugar cane make. I moved all the sugar I ran across into five gallon buckets a long time ago and we've been pretty good about watching how much is used. We also use brown sugar and other non-white granulated sugars when at all possible for sweetening. I still have about fifteen five-gallon buckets of white sugar left but that won't last forever; especially not as we begin preserving more of the harvests that hopefully will come in. I found that about fifty pounds of sugar will fit in a five gallon bucket but that really isn't much sugar for the number of people we have and all the preserving that we need to do in the coming months. I wonder if they'll get any sugar production going down south? And if so, what will they trade it for? I wonder what people in other locations are using for sweetening?

Well, tomorrow is laundry day so I need to make an early night of it. I might have some more harvesting to do as well. The broccoli looks like it is just about ready. Yum. I dreamed of broccoli and cheese the other night. Hope everyone's dream are as pleasant on this night.


	175. Day 217

**Day 217 (Monday) – March 5**

Ha! Really good news for a change. We've had some bad news as well but at least more good than bad this time around.

Johnnie and Bubby described it best when they said that "Uncle Angus, Mr. Jim and Mr. Glenn were gonna get in trouble if they don't stop being so bouncy!"

The three men woke in what I would call an almost claustrophobic mood. They were bound and determined to go check on OSAG and Aldea. They could have had a convoy except everyone knew it made more sense for a small party to go check things out first before we split our forces. It's still possible that there are some NRSC troopers in the area or that raiders are going to move into the area to try and take advantage of the mess the Hive and the NRSC left in their wake. It's also possible that the folks representing the regular military were lying for strategic lessons. Caution is a much more common commodity than trust is these days.

They took Juicer and left the armored vehicles here because they still need to place some basic parts that were ripped up by the zombies when they went into a feeding frenzy. It's a good thing they did take Juicer actually. When they got over to OSAG's compound at the university they found a highly armed bunch of men (and women) who were waiting for the NRSC to show up and make good on their threat. Seems OSAG had lost some of their connections and such … Lord knows I haven't got a clue exactly what the damage was but the damage was enough to prevent them from both reception and broadcast for a bit. Repairs are underway and they'll be back on the air ASAP now that they've received the intel we had to share with them. Hopefully with Steve's big set up and connections we'll get a better idea of how things stand around the state; and maybe even further afield.

OSAG weathered the Hive's appearance fairly well but not without some damage. Like us they are hurt but not incapacitated. I hope to get a full report later but for now it was great just to know that their group is still amongst the land of the living.

Aldea … it's there. There has been some significant damage in the front parts of the park but that was probably inevitable as Matlock and that group started moving stuff in and out. Actually the main part of the park still is in good repair because of the way it is situated. I guess the NRSC didn't want to worry about bogging down or getting cornered on a peninsula. The bridge over the Hillsborough River near there is pretty beat up. All of the NRSC would have had to travel across that bridge as they headed west. They found a couple of explosives on the bridge but were able to disarm them without mishap. They left the C4 at Aldea in one of the steel storage containers that sits outside of their main compound area just to be on the safe side for a bit.

Glenn thinks the bridge is still in reasonably decent shape. He said he drove over worse in the Middle East during worse conditions but they are still talking about how they can reinforce it without the river compromising any of their efforts. That may be a long term problem for that location and for all east/west travel through that area.

The men came back in the early afternoon. After a little bit of grumping by all concerned it was decided that before they begin to work on Aldea, Sanctuary's outside perimeter will be cleaned up, any houses that remain within 100 yards of Sanctuary's exterior will be pulled down, and the infected corpses within 200 yards of Sanctuary's exterior will be dealt with. Some estimate that all of that can be accomplished in a week … that doesn't include dealing with the rubble in my opinion … and that after that all those that will be building Aldea will shift while those of us who will remain in Sanctuary will continue to focus on the continuity of this compound.

Some of those that have volunteered to help set up Aldea haven't decided whether to stay there permanently but everyone seems to agree that a second secured and viable location is a good idea strategically. Lettuce Lake Park … now known as Aldea … has 240 acres within its boundaries. That's a lot of territory to patrol and protect. That's also a lot of waterways to patrol and protect. And what happens if someone upriver decides to pollute things? They'll probably have to pull back and decide precisely how much they think they can manage at first and work from there; similar to how we started here in Sanctuary. One of the pieces of bad news is that there are a lot of loose shamblers all through the woods near Aldea. There's going to be some serious work and many cautious days until they get that area completely cleared.

Scott was busy today marking items that he wanted to salvage on houses both inside and outside Sanctuary. There really isn't that much worth salvaging outside Sanctuary. I don't know which was more destructive, the Hive or the NRSC. One of the few items that we can count on salvaging from nearly every house was a bathtub or two. Scott intends to – temporarily maybe – line these tubs up to be placed where the houses within Sanctuary are pulled down to create a whole section of sturdy plant containers. They already have nice drains in them so all we'll need to do is to fill them with compost and sand and we'll probably have a good container for tomatoes or potatoes or even a place I can start some small fruit trees.

I went with him for a bit outside the Wall. I didn't feel safe like I used to. There were shamblers … and unsanitized but immobile zombies … all over the place. Most of the mobile shamblers were relatively harmless but we didn't take any unnecessary chances. Any that came too near or got too curious were dispatched by arrow, slingshot, ax, machete, spear, pike, or some other "silent" weapon. In one case I used the sharp edge of my shovel to decapitate a zombie and Scott sanitized it with his spike and mallet.

If you are wondering why I was out there with a shovel it is because I was trying to save as many useful plants and trees as I could. I honestly didn't find much except for some banana rhizomes that I'm really hoping survive the transplantation process. I found more ornamentals than I did food plants. Scott got a little irritated with that after a bit but I just don't know when I'll have a similar chance to get these plants. The dozer is going to tear up stuff quite a bit, and probably finish off what the Hive and those big armored vehicles started.

When I wasn't with Scott I was working in our gardens and there was more ready for picking than I expected. All the produce is going to catch me off guard and I'm not going to be able to keep up. Today I brought in the first of the broccoli, "baby" carrots, the bok choy, and some more turnips. We made a nice stir fry for dinner and used some of the chopped broccoli and bok choy to make it even more filling.

All the plants are smaller than I had anticipated. I don't know for sure whether it is the variety, the drought, or something I'm doing. I hope that I've planted enough. It's not like I can run to the corner market if we run out of something.

Mr. Morris says he plans on harvesting the first batch of honey from our hives tomorrow. That should be exciting. As many hives as we have – a dozen of those bee hotels or whatever you call them – Mr. Morris thinks we should easily get a dozen pounds of honey from the first harvest. After that we should get quite a bit more as they love all the blooming going on in the gardens and the left over blooms from the citrus trees. I've heard more talk of mead and a "liquid gold trade item" than I care to think about right now. They'd best make sure that we have enough for our own use for the year before they start using it for anything else.

There were a few spits of rain tonight but you could have driven Juicer between the drops. Lots of heat lightning but I don't think anything will come of it. When or when are we going to get some rain?


	176. Day 218

**Day 218 (Tuesday) – March 6**

Barring the occasional sanitation job we are nearly back to normal. Normal … what is that anyway? It's not the "normal" of pre-NRS days. "Normal" for us is quite a bit different since the world came crashing down. Everyone has their own definition of normal I guess. All I know is that no one died, no one is sick, food was plentiful, and constructive work got accomplished … and we are slowly returning to a regular schedule.

The cows and goats and other animals were allowed to return the pasture yesterday and by this evening we could already tell that at least some of them were happy about it because the milk production for both the cows and goats has gone up. It's not where it was pre-Hive but that will come in time hopefully. As soon as it does Reba wants to start making hard cheeses. We've only been making soft cheeses that get used up the same day but now with the Cooler she thinks she's figured out a way to make cheddar, and maybe a parmesan/romano and a few others that I've heard mentioned before. She said we'll have to make sure and keep scavenging for paraffin and unscented wax so that we can wax the cheese blocks and wheels as the cheeses get made.

Reba has this pretty well laid out and I can't wait for her to start. It's been so long since I've tasted fresh cheddar. Powdered cheese or the soft cheeses we have been making like queso blanco or queso fresco are useful and even taste good; but there is nothing quite as grand as a sliced of well-aged cheddar. I think it is very important that all of the girls take the time to learn this task. Specialization may have proved more efficient pre-NRS but it isn't any longer. We all need to know how to do as much as possible so in case we lose someone we don't lose the art or craft in question.

Today's excitement came from bees. That's right. Honey producing bees to be more precise … like mini cattle they are worth herding and produce a great deal of value that returns the work and effort you put into them at least tenfold.

First thing this morning as some of the men had started to pull down one of the houses outside of Sanctuary they ran into a large feral hive living between the siding and the interior frame of one of the buildings. Kevin was out there and immediately called his father to come see. Apparently they had both been hoping for this … finding more bees … and having it occur so close to Sanctuary was a plus.

They had prepared by building something called a beevac … basically a kind of contraption that vacuums up the feral bees before you began to dismantle the hive and locate the queen and thus saving some rather painful interaction with their species. After you've vacuumed up the bees you can transfer them to regular housing for captured and domesticated bees thus increasing the number of bees you have and the amount of honey you can collect.

Well, a lot of the wax in this feral hive was quite dark. Usually, according to Mr. Morris anyway, this means that the honeycombs are old. Kevin added that you can also get dark wax because bees are storing dark honey in the cells. I'll leave all the really technical stuff to them or to those that want to read all of their notes in the library. It's actually cool, I just don't have that much experience with it yet.

What I do know is that after vacuuming the bees – which required extra guards because the little vac motor attracted some zombies that subsequently had to be sanitized – they collected four five-gallon buckets of the wax. Since the comb wasn't in frames they had to use the crush and strain method and so far – out of those four buckets – they've gotten over a hundred pounds of honey, but it's pretty dark stuff. The leftover wax will be washed and then put in a solar beeswax melter and then solidified into blocks for later use.

To test the bee hives that we had scavenged from over in the Keystone area, Mr. Morris decided to harvest the three frames that were fully capped and put them in the frame extractor. Basically that is a contraption that you set the frames down into that you have opened the "caps" (then ends of the honey cells) and then you manually spin the honey out of the frames. It uses plain old centrifugal force to get the honey from the frames. Out of three frames he was able to get just over twelve pounds. Not too shabby considering we have twelve bee hives.

Each of those twelve hives are made up of a bottom piece called a hive stand. Next comes a board that is used for ventilation. Then comes a box that is like a nursery. Mr. Morris called this a brood box which is where the queen bee lives. Then there is another board called a "queen excluder" that keeps the queen from going any place else but the brood box. On top of that "supers" that hold the frames. Each super will hold ten frames. The frame is what you collect honey from. There are three supers for each of our hives although Mr. Morris says you can put more if the hive is large and/or produces a lot of extra honey. The captured feral hive will give us a thirteenth hive (and possibly fourteenth if they swarm).

If nothing goes wrong and the bees don't starve … which I don't expect they will as they've got our organic gardens and the orchard and other fruit trees to get their food from … I think we will get a significant amount of honey. Let's see, if four frames gave us 12 pounds of honey means that each frame should give us three pounds of honey at least once. We have twelve domesticated hives with three supers with ten frames each … three times ten equals thirty frames times for each of twelve hives which means 360 frames total. If each frame yields three pounds of honey then that's 1080 pounds of honey. That's absolutely incredible.

I don't think I'll be quite so crabby about the whole mead experiment thing if we really can get that much honey. And if we get more than one harvest per frame we'll be swimming in the stuff. Of course, if we don't get any rain … or we get too much … or any number of other things we could go way down on honey production. I think I like gardening better.

The mead guys are all in hog heaven. Tomorrow they are going to make their first batch of mead. I got the puppy dog eyes from Scott and Angus and even Dix … the big goofball … played along asked what I'd take in trade for "procuring" the stuff they need from my magical storehouse. Yeah, like I wasn't actually going to take them up on that. Heck lot they know. So tomorrow they are going to cut back some hanging branches from an oak tree that is beginning to shade one end of the big garden and I'll "procure" their stuff for them.

They'll get eighteen pounds of honey from Mr. Morris and I'll get everything else that includes: two cups of maple syrup; 32 ounces of lemon or lime juice; 12 lemons and 8 limes; and then dried citrus peel of orange, lemon, and tangerine; and then they need 2 oz. of coriander seeds. I sure hope their experiment is worth it because they are taking up quite a bit of the last of my fresh lemons and limes. And I hope they have some other mead recipes because we might not have as much citrus fruit next year if we don't get some rain.

I've had the kids to start bringing buckets of water for the trees from the canals and ponds but as low as they are that won't last forever either. I've already noted two orange trees and one grapefruit tree that needs to come down and be replaced with seedlings. I don't think it's that they've outlived their usefulness; orange trees can live up to 100 years. I think the stress of the drought is getting to them. If we don't have some decent and consistent rain soon we'll start losing more trees, probably some of the oaks as well and that will be really bad. What we don't need are weak trees once the hurricane season starts. Ugh.

The only thing that we've been washing lately are our under things. Everything else we've just been shaking out and hanging to air out. Some of the younger guys have been hanging their t-shirts on the clothes line before they go to bed and then they take them off after they've dried from the morning's dew. I'd use canal water but it is really muddy right now because it is so low and has lots of algae in it.

Collecting material left behind by the NRSC continues but our spotters saw that we aren't the only ones doing it. We saw that peddler group that Tasha joined … or at least they were using one of the RVs from that group because the methane collector on top is pretty distinctive … to the north along what used to be US41. I don't know what you would call it now, but it sure doesn't qualify as a highway any more. Dix took a contingent of armed men to meet them and see what was up.

They were actually on their way to see us. The head of the clan … Mr. something or other, I never was allowed close enough to confirm whether it was Fred to Ted … had a grandson who had been burned pretty badly on his back by a piece of floating debris as they were escaping north from the fire. The fact that they were all the way over in Tarpon Springs when this occurred was too reminiscent of when Scott was gone back months ago and brought my parents' stuff to me. It also brought back the suspicion that the peddlers were connected to the raiders.

Dix must have thought the same thing but the Clan Leader said that there weren't too many people over that way anymore what with all the fuel running out and the military sitting off the coast in their big fleet. There wasn't anything left of it at all now that the fire had run clear all the way to the Gulf. They had run all the way north to Hernando Beach before the flames stopped following them. They had risked a lot to come back this way because Tasha told them with proper incentive Waleski would probably treat the boy's burns.

I heard from Rose that apparently Tasha has moved up quite a bit in the hierarchy. She's made them clean up their living quarters and while it still isn't what you would call immaculate it's a lot better than what it was. She told me Tasha looks a lot harder than when she was with us but I'm not sure how to measure what she was saying; Rose, for all she has experienced the last several months is still a bit idealistic and inexperienced.

The boy's burn had begun to heal but there were a couple of quarter size and silver dollar size places that must have been second or third degree. He was passed the worst pain stage so Waleski said ibuprofen was adequate for that except for Vicodin he gave the boy for when he was cleaning the burns. After the places were completely cleaned he covered them with silvadene which is a type of topical antibiotic for severe burns. He also gave the boy a tetanus shot since the grandfather didn't know when he had last had one. He also prescribed Vitamin C, Vitamin E, and Omega-3 tablets all of which the peddlers have in their wares.

I was interested to hear that he also fussed at them a bit about not feeding the boy enough, reminding them that his body was working harder to mend itself so he needed extra calories, not fewer. He also told them no caffeine but fruit juices or plain water only and several times a day, not just at meal times. Dehydration is a big problems with burns, but I hadn't realized how much of a problem until Waleski pointed it out. The prognosis for the boy is pretty good since he survived this long so long as they can keep infection from setting in.

Nothing else was even as mildly exciting as the bees or the peddlers. The peddlers are on their way but not before turning over a few of crates of ammo they had collected from the NRSC dead. Their head man refused to leave owing us anything though we would have treated his grandson for good will. I guess that might be a good thing in the long run. I don't think they are any less trustworthy than some of the folks we've met, but they are shifty. And it's also set a precedent. Hopefully people won't line up outside of Sanctuary looking for free handouts as far as medical treatment go, but the word should also get out that we do everything within our skills to do a good job.

I think our greens are going to start coming in hand over fist pretty soon. I was able to cut the first new leaves on the mustard greens and tomorrow I'll be able to harvest the first of the loose leaf lettuce varieties. Pretty soon the eggplants should start coming in as well. By the end of the month we'll also have fresh tomatoes and fresh carrots.

At dinner I whipped up some cinnamon honey butter for folks to spread on their biscuits. And tomorrow I think I'll take some of the dark honey from the feral hive and make a chocolate honey cake and then cover it with chocolate honey frosting. Later in the week if I have time I'll also make honey cheese cake. My mouth is watering just thinking about all the stuff I can do now that I won't have to ration the sweetening quite as much as I have recently.

Wish we could fix the wheat flour shortage as easily. I've got some bags of seeds that I've found while scavenging that I've set aside to try and address this issue but I don't know with what kind of success. Some of what I will do is stretch out supply of wheat flour out by adding in some bean flour. We've got enough dried beans to choke a horse with; amazing how many people kept bags of them around but never seemed to actually use them. The ones that are too old to soak and cook will get ground up into a fine powder and added to my bread mixes.

Corn I've probably written about ad nauseum. I'll take some of the oats and from the feed store and try and plant some oats towards the middle of September. I may not get much the first year. If the crop isn't worth anything I figure I can still give it to the animals as forage. I threw some millet in a quarter-acre area and its coming up but is suffering from the drought and might dry out before it makes any heads of grain.

Next week rice will go in at Aldea. They've already got the area marked off. Rice for so many things including rice flour. Next month I'll plant another quarter to half acre of sorghum, depends on whether we get any rain or not. Beginning of May is when I'll put the soybeans in the ground. Middle of November I'll do my best to grow my own wheat and lastly the beginning of December I'll try my hand at rye. I wish I had known I could plant wheat and rye earlier; now I'm a whole year behind. Now I'm beginning to worry that we may have to eat our seeds before we can put them in the ground.

I just have to keep remembering that we have a plan, we are moving forward, and no matter how hard I push my foot down on the imaginary accelerator on the passenger side I'm not going to get time to move any faster.


	177. Day 219

**Day 219 (Wednesday) – March 7**

Talk about a depressing Water Day. Still no rain. I'm really getting worried about the gardens. You can tell … wait …

OK, rather than erase all of that or waste the paper I'll just start over with a new paragraph. It's raining. Great big dry weather drops and they are making a heck of a lot of noise on the lanai roof and the skylight in the kitchen. We all stopped what we were doing and ran outside to set up the rain barrels and to make sure the other run off pipes and flashing are directed into the holding tanks. The pounding is so loud I can barely hear myself think but I haven't heard anything so pretty in a long, long time.

I had started out saying that this was a depressing Water Day because we didn't have any water to process. Many of the in-ground pools still inside Sanctuary are 90% empty. The pools outside are still full of debris or putrefied corpses. The ones outside the Wall also have a few gators in them as well. Tell me that don't make trying to clean things up interesting.

Breakfast was a little strange. I took the remainder of all of our packaged muffin mixes and turned them into pancakes. The mixes we have left over from pre-NRS commercial products are beginning to get pretty old. Not too bad but the first couple of pancakes I tried to make wouldn't rise so I had to stop and mix in some of the friendship bread starter that I always keep going. They did pretty well after that but the only thing was that no two of them really tasted the same. They were all jumbled up. The ones the kids really seemed to like was when I mixed the strawberry muffin mix with the chocolate chip muffin mix. It was so rich it made me want to gag but the kids couldn't inhale them fast enough. Several of the adults like the banana nut muffin mix with the chocolate chip muffin mix; again pretty rich, but with fresh whipped cream courtesy of Reba not too shabby if I do say so myself. I like how the spice muffin mix and the blackberry muffin mix went together. All the other combinations just tasted like some kind of wild razzleberry to me.

After breakfast I went and harvested a bunch of looseleaf lettuce and for my part of lunch I made a pretty killer mandarin orange salad. I used some canned mandarin oranges and they weren't half bad even though a couple of them tasted like they might have sat in the can a tad longer than their "best by" date said they should have.

David had taken some of the boys and gone to check out the ponds that we had been fishing from. Some had dried up and you could see the carcasses of a few fish though most had undoubtedly been eaten by the local wildlife. The main lake however still had a decent amount of water in it though it was quite low. It was pretty easy to run a net and bring in more than we could eat at lunch. The best looking of the extra fish were carefully put into a cooler of water and brought back to Sanctuary and released into the deepest water we still had in one of the ponds.

After lunch David started dredging out the long canal that is now a central ecological and geographical feature within Sanctuary. Parts of the canal were so dry that he could use the bobcat with no fear of bogging down. That certainly won't be true tomorrow if it continues to rain but at least he got one section done and the embankment stabilized with broken concrete blocks before this rain.

David's project wasn't the only one going. Everyone was working fast and furiously to clear the exterior perimeter of the Wall. Angus used Juicer to haul away the corpses that had been stripped of everything useful and Glenn used the finally-repaired armored steam shovel type vehicle to push over the buildings after they had been stripped of everything usable. There were only a couple of buildings that were still too solid for him to collapse and McElroy took care of those with the dozer. Made a great bunch of noise too so we needed plenty of guards to take care of the infecteds when they decided to get a little too close or frisky.

Infecteds weren't the only thing that the noise attracted. We had another brief visit from the military guys. It was a small patrol group doing a little mop up. I don't know the specifics but Dix confirmed they weren't AWOL or impersonators. Seems a bunch of their meals were bad after opening. They only wanted to trade for enough to get them to their extraction point which was a day and a half away. They traded the intel that they had stashed another NRSC armored vehicle about a mile away with some NRSC gear and ammo still inside. They also traded a radio part that Dix had needed to unscramble some of the NRSC broadcasts he could hear from the Central Zone.

For that we traded them rice, cornmeal, fresh water, some honey, and some jerky. We also gave them about a dozen real eggs. You'd thought we'd handed them Solomon's gold. After that it was short work to get enough intel to update our maps – both local and national. They didn't give us anything that we couldn't have eventually figured out but it was a lot faster than having to wait to decode everything we hear on the radio.

Seems that Sanctuary and OSAG aren't the only fortified compounds here in Florida. Sanctuary seems to be several months ahead of most of them and has a more balanced set up. Some of the compounds are strictly agrarian with 90% of their effort put into food production and/or harvest, including some of the coastal communities trying to make a living from the Atlantic or Gulf. Some of the compounds focus 90% of their effort on security and rely heavily on scavenging or trade to acquire their food.

Many of the compounds, no matter what their focus is, are still very closed off; kind of a "if you don't already belong don't even bother knocking on the door" mentality. A few are open to communication but on a strictly limited basis, only on their terms, and only if you come to them first. Even those compounds that are concentrated in certain areas tend to be hostile to too much interaction with other compounds even when it would make more sense to share the workload.

For now I think we better hold off on the idea of building a loose confederation of communities. I think the effort would be better put into first solidifying Sanctuary, Aldea, and OSAG (if they are interested) into points of a triangle of area that at least has some semblance of peace and stability to it. Or at least into a good trading partnership that also lends a hand to each other in case of security needs. Similar to the forts in the pioneering era of the US; one community's trouble is offset by the help received by the other two communities. It would also make us more formidable an opponent individually because any enemy would find themselves our common enemy. They would have to deal, not just with the one community, but with three well-armed and well-trained communities. That should make any raiders think twice.

It's not that the loose confederation of communities isn't a good idea because it is. I think the primary problem right now is that only seven months have passed since the fall and people are still finding their way. There is still a lot of suspicion and shock out there. As cruel as it may sound I think the chaff is still being winnowed from the wheat. We'll need to be flexible and adapt but we also need to guide the re-establishment of things so that the general framework we all agree on doesn't become compromised.

We also still have a lot of macro problems to face. They've retreated but there is no way that we will be able to permanently escape all the political claptrap that is going on in the Central Zone. Nor will we be able to escape potential fallout from other Quarantine Zones dumping their issues onto us.

Speaking of dumping … one of the most shocking things that I've heard to date was that some of the Quarantine Zones are starting to dump their infecteds into the neighboring quarantine zones. There are still some half-brains out there that seem to think that if you move the problem someplace else then it is no longer a problem. In essence, if you can't see it and can't hear it then it must no longer exist. Those ninnies need a dope slap upside the back of their heads. Zombies have no concept of political lines. A state line is a human concept. What? Do they expect a zombie dumped from Alabama into Georgia, or vice versa, to suddenly think, "Ooops, can't go back that way anymore. We can't cross the state line."

That might explain why we are still seeing so many zombies after such a long period of time. I know that the decomposition rate radically slows down in an NRS infected corpse but I would have thought that a lot of zombies would have perished over the harsh winter up north. Maybe they don't decompose during the winter but go into some type of suspended animation or hibernation or something. Wouldn't that be crazy to find out that zombies hibernate in the cold rather than die the second death?

With no rain, the weeds aren't growing very quickly. Good mulch and careful group planting has also helped keep this problem to a minimum. That doesn't leave me with as much to do in the garden as I would have if the rain had been coming regularly. This rain … that continues to fall by the bucketful … will change that. It'll also be like working in a sauna but I'll grow used to it. I do every year. If the humidity picks up however we'll need to watch everyone's electrolytes. I need to remember to see how much Gatorade and PowerAde we still have. I know I've got a recipe around here some place that uses unsweetened Koolaid to make ORS (oral rehydration solution) which is a kinda sorta homemade sports drink. Need to keep some ginger drink or lemonade handy as well. The kids are going to dry out fast in the heat that is coming.

Wowwee! We are starting to get some pretty good winds in this stuff and quite a bit of thunder and lightning as well. I'm going to have to sign off here and go help make sure everything is tied down really tight. If we can't handle a thunderstorm we are going to be in trouble come June when the hurricane season starts up.


	178. Day 220

**Day 220 (Thursday) – March 8**

I've had a really bad headache all day long. I think the rain last night must have stirred up as much dust as it settled. The intermittent sprinkling that it's done off and on the entire day didn't do much for me either. It was too wet to get much work done in comfort outside and too muggy inside to really get comfortable there either.

I finally used one of the extra batteries that we keep charged and hooked it up to an oscillating floor fan just to keep the air stirred up. This must be a cold front coming through but it's hard to tell without the weather man to tell us what they see on the radar. All I know is that the rain is cold but once it hits the ground all we do is get a smelly sauna steaming up.

The gardens have perked up but the trees and water retention areas still need a considerable amount to make them truly healthy again. I measured about an inch from the overnight rain and then about half that in all the rain we had during the day. An inch and a half of rain won't go far if things continue to warm up like they have been doing.

One of Mischief's pups died. Austin says it looks like it got snake bit. Scott took a look at it and he and Angus finally found the fang marks but they were really small. Scott thinks it was a pigmy rattler. I've noticed the kids were starting to go barefoot in the warm weather and I need to impress on them how bad an idea that is. The snakes will be getting active again soon and so will all the other creepy crawlies that bite and pinch. Parasitic worms will also become a problem if we aren't careful. I don't even want to consider the nastiness in the ground from months of NRS contamination on the ground.

My Sarah and Samuel buried the puppy in the far corner of the pasture; deep enough that none of our animals would think about digging it up. I feel bad but … and this is probably just horrible … but I can't help but think about it being one less mouth to feed as well.

The dogs are a real consideration for me. They are working dogs. They serve a real purpose within our community. But on the other hand we haven't been able to let them out to hunt for themselves and we are having to feed them from our own rations. I've been mixing leftovers with rice and whey to try and keep them fed and out of our domestic animal stock. Squirrels are actually getting scarce 'cause the dogs or cats grab them as soon as they show up. I don't know for how much longer we'll be able to keep that up though.

The hogs get acorns, slop the dogs won't eat, and mash from the still. The cattle, poultry, and goats are just about as free range though we are able to supplement their diet better with feed we've found here and there. The llamas are all free range as is the ostrich and a few of our other wilder critters. The only animals that are primarily fed using commercial feed are the horses, mules, and burros. This just proves even more that our corn crop is going to be a make or break project for us. If we can't get a decent corn crop in I don't know what we are going to do as far as the animals go.

I've taken a chance and continued planting blocks of corn in succession so I really hope everything makes. So far so good with everything else up to this point. I've lost some stuff sure, but less than I expected. What I haven't liked is that everything is so much smaller on the vine than I expected and the plants are producing fewer fruits than I expected. My mom's garden was always so great and the fruits and veggies so pretty; they could (and did) win prizes at the local fair. I'm not sure if being forced to go organic has made that much of a difference or if the lack of rain is the cause. I don't know, maybe a combination of those two factors and others that I haven't thought of yet.

The kids were just about to drive me buggy today. Between being cooped up to keep them from getting sick in this cold rain and my own headache I nearly lost my temper over small, stupid stuff more than once. Charlene was really trying to help but I could tell she wasn't feeling much better than I was. Sarah and Rose were a little on the cranky side too. I'm thinking that having so many females living in close confines like we do our cycles are beginning to occur at the same time.

I had mentioned something about that to Scott the other day and he got this horrified look on his face. It made me laugh but I'm still not sure if he was funning with me or not. I finally just broke down and fixed everyone a surprise Orange "Slush." Basically for every two cups of orange juice you mix in a half cup of powdered milk. To that you mix in about a quarter teaspoon of vanilla extract. I snagged a bunch of ice cubes that are stacking up in the Cooler and used an old, manual ice shaver from one of the girls' toys to crunch the ice up enough to mix into the OJ/milk mixture. Wow, was it good. Almost as good as a cold soda would have been … almost.

Today was a food prep day anyway. I spent a few hours in the food store house. The first thing I noticed was that the rat traps needed to be changed. We haven't lost anything as we've been packaging things in metal and glass containers when at all possible but it still grosses me out thinking about rats and mice slinking all over the shelves. Ick. I'm hoping one of Lucky's kittens may be a little more domesticated and also turns out to be a good hunter; I'll try and fix it so that it will live in the food storehouse and turn into a mouser.

Rodents aren't the only problem over there. The food organization has fallen apart. I haven't got a clue if there is an up-to-date inventory. I asked Brandon to see if he could build me an inventory spreadsheet on Excel on a reliable laptop or tower computer … or even on one of the old Ipod I-touches and tablets he keeps charged or something like that … so that I can inventory as I go. There are a lot of things on the shelves that looks like it is either at or just past the "do not use past" date. Looks like I'm going to be putting together more odd meals to get this stuff used up in some semblance of order.

Tonight for dinner, much to the initial distrust of some of the guys, I made Lentil-Walnut Patties. I know that sounds kind of weird but I needed to have a good protein with the meal and with all the rain it would have been too much of a pain to try and good a good roast or other type of big meat dish. Plus, I had these canned nuts that needed to be used before they went rancid.

First you purée some cooked lentils and then place them in a medium-size bowl. Spread your walnuts and some crumbs in a shallow pan and toast them lightly in a hot oven (400 degrees F) for about 10 minutes. Take them out of the oven and stir into lentils and then add eggs, onion, catsup, cloves, salt and pepper. My mixture turned out to be too dry so I added a little sour cream. Once you get the right consistency you shape the mess into patties (1/2 cup each) and sauté in oil and butter until nicely browned, about 5 minutes per side.

To go with the patties I made a rice pilaf and we had some nice grilled eggplant with goat milk cheese using the white eggplants that I harvested today. There was also a nice mesclun greens salad for anyone that wanted it.

If you are wondering why I'm cooking again it's because I think we've got a little bug running around or something. Saen wasn't feeling good again. I dropped by and took her some ginger tea and asked her if she had spoken with Waleski yet. I guess I was trying to figure out if she was going to be the next victim of the fertile fairy but I could tell just as soon as she opened her mouth that it was just a bad head cold. It's bound to happen to someone else sooner or later; probably sooner rather than later. Anne and I got a giggle out of trying to guess who would be next. When the guys would look at us funny we would get this really innocent look on our faces and then they would get suspicious and all but run for the hills. Scott and Lee stopped by later in the afternoon and we let them in on the joke.

Of course they didn't see it quite the same way we did. They actually wanted to know who we thought would catch it next. If I had to guess I would say probably Melody. She and Cease are pretty young and liable to be less careful until after they get caught the first time. Rilla might be next on my list. Ty is a couple of years old already and I know she wants a little brother or sister for him. After that I would have to guess maybe Austin and his Sarah. I know they've been together for a while but they are both still pretty young. Saen and Glenn will have a baby when they get good and ready to. I'm thinking that may be one of the reasons that Glenn is so all fired up and in a hurry to get Aldea set up. They are both old enough and experienced enough they aren't liable to get caught until they are good and ready to get caught.

The only other one that I think might be a candidate in the near future is Tina. She's not that old, certainly still fertile. Another baby might be just what they need to help them through their grief; or not, its not my place to say I suppose.

One of the rabbit does added another little batch of baby rabbits to the ones we've already got … or kits or whatever you call baby rabbits. In the not too distant future we'll probably need to start culling some of them. We already have more hutches than I expected to have at any one time. I like the rabbits, but on the other hand I don't want to just continue to raise them gratuitously no matter how cute some of them are. Some of those things may be cute but they also bite. Think Bugs Bunny after being on steroids too long … very, very cranky and unpredictable.

And for more unpredictability in life I'm going to make pizza for breakfast. I'll partially bake the pizza shells first and while they are baking I'll scramble some eggs with onion and bell pepper. Before the pizza shells are completely finished I'll pull them out and put some of the cooked egg mixture and then I'll put other toppings – one will be sausage, another one bacon, a third ham, a veggie omelet one with mushrooms, etc. – so that everyone can grab exactly what they want. I'll also fix a couple of fruit topped pizzas that will be similar to a sweet roll. Hopefully this will minimize clean up for me and hold people until lunch time.

Before I forget, Matlock took a party out and they re-claimed that armored vehicle and its contents from the exact spot the patrol we traded with yesterday said it would be. Nice to know they were on the up and up. I hope they made it to the extraction point on time. Dix told them to come back our way if for some reason their plan blew up.

I suppose that could make it seem like we are choosing sides and I guess to a certain extent we are; our own. The NRSC that was in this area proved they weren't the most trustworthy bunch. On the other hand Matlock and his crew originally worked with the NRSC even though they were National Guardsmen. You have to be careful of the paintbrush you wield when say who the bad guy is and who he is not. We'll need to tread real careful so that we don't get drawn into something that could destroy us. We have enough of that going on already.

And with that I am finished for the evening. Rain sounds like it is kicking up again. Looks like another soggy day tomorrow and if I'm going to be in charge of all the cooking again I'm going to need my rest.


	179. Day 221

**Day 221 (Friday) – March 9 – Cleaning Day**

I didn't get much cleaning done in our house but I did make a start on the food storehouse. There wasn't much else that I could really do in the gardens because it rained. And rained. And rained, rained, rained, rained. I'm glad for it but I'm also fighting being ungrateful … if it isn't one type of mess it's another.

To get the kids out of the house I brought them over to the food storehouse with me. Of course I put them to work which wasn't exactly what they had been expecting. I've warned all the kids that they shouldn't ever say the dreaded phrase, "I'm bored, I don't have anything to do." I'm really, really good at finding stuff for bored kids to do. (Cue evil scientist laugh.)

Actually I wound up having to ask for some help from some of the older boys … guys … young men … whatever they preferred to be called. I had them rearrange some of the shelves upstairs and I've moved all of the #10 cans of foods upstairs on those shelves. I also moved all of the commercially canned herbs and spices upstairs in labeled tubs. Basically I put upstairs anything that was sealed for long term storage or that we don't use very much. We had already gutted the plumbing and everything from the house so in what used to be the upstairs bathroom I put all condiments. Another one of the upstairs rooms is where I've put all the chutneys and pickled stuff. One of the walk in closets upstairs is kept locked and that's where all of the candy (non-chocolate) and snack foods are kept.

Downstairs I put all of the bulk grains in what was the master bedroom. Then each of the remaining rooms downstairs was allocated to a specific season or type of item. One of the smallest rooms was full of tomato products. Another room held all of the canned meats and jerky. Yet another room I've designated to hold all of the beans whether they are dried, commercially canned, or home canned. And of course there is a room that is full of nothing but fruit and fruit products like jams, jellies, dried fruit, and canned fruits. One of the downstairs rooms has also been set aside for sweetenings and fats so that room is where you'll find all of the sugars and the cooking oils.

It isn't a perfect solution and I keep finding areas where I need to arrange and then rearrange things and I still might change my mind as we go along but it certainly looks better than it did before. Of course, we've used quite a bit of stuff as well so that's made more room. We moved the cleaning products to a couple of the steel storage containers in the Wall and most of the fresh meat now gets put into the smokehouse. First aid stuff is being stored in the clinic.

The food storehouse pretty much took up our whole day. I did indeed fix pizzas for breakfast and while I got a few raised eyebrows most everyone was a good sport about it. Food is fuel after all and we need all the fuel we can get.

The other two meals were other people's responsibilities. I know I ate something … or at least Rose put something in front of me that made it from a plate to my mouth … but it really didn't make that much of an impression. I do that sometimes – get so busy and focused that I eat out of necessity and not necessarily out of desire and then pretty much forget what it was that I had to eat. Lunch was soft and dinner was hot and that's about all my senses registered.

I'm very tired tonight. Tomorrow we are supposed to do some baking but if the rain doesn't let up we are going to be looking at have to bake bread on a day-by-day basis this coming week. I don't like doing it like that because we always use more flour. It's harder to ration out.

If I can't bake tomorrow then I'll probably do some canning. There are quite a few tropical apricots, loquats, and mysore raspberries that I can do something with. If not that then I should probably go through the kids' clothes and shoes and see what needs to be repaired, replaced, let down, hemmed up, etc. There is always something that needs doing.

Scott got soaked today as did James and David. All the guys did for that matter. I didn't realize how wet though until I stepped on the wet clothes he left on the bathroom floor. Talk about a rude surprise. I didn't know what I had stepped on at first. Scott got chilled which isn't good. He's been working so hard and we aren't getting any younger. I know 40s isn't "old" but on the other hand it isn't "young" either. I worry about him. His family had a history of early heart problems and diabetes. Scott avoided the diabetes and with only a brief scare concerning a problem that turned out to not be a problem after all. I thought we had years before we needed to worry about that sort of thing. I don't know. He's wearing himself out and I worry what toll this will eventually take on his health.

The men were dismantling buildings all day long. Sarah and Samuel and some of the other early teens and tweens did a huge favor for me and are gathering all the intact stepping stones and pavers that can be salvaged. When the concrete mix runs out we are going to have to change to some other way of putting a floor or patio down.

The trash was getting to be a bit much to happen so McElroy dug a long trench out in the big burn zone and the guys managed to get a slow fire going. The rain keeps it completely under control but we are able to burn things like drywall, old paneling, insulation, and other crappy pieces of stuff that just isn't worth trying to save or salvage.

James is out on the Wall but should be back in any minute from his turn. I'll go out then. Scott is off duty tonight but David has early shift. I wouldn't mind so much except that it is raining. Oh, and there he is now. I need to close up and get going. I hope someone has the teapot going in the guard station; I have a feeling I'm going to need it.


	180. Day 222

**Day 222 (Saturday) – March 10 - Saturday**

And another one bites the dust … or another three or four should I say. I was so tired when I got off of guard duty last night I basically just kind of fell across the bed and forgot to take off my wet socks and other dampish underthings. Of course that was just bloody brilliant and I woke up with a sore throat and stuffy sinuses.

Scott isn't feeling great either but more from the threatening cold than actually having a full-blown one. Charlene also isn't feeling all that great. And James seems to be trying to come down with this crap as well. Rose and David are fine. The two of them are Teflon coated and they rarely seem to get ill. So far none of the younger kids have it though I made sure that my Sarah and Bekah were well-covered when they went out into the weather to do their chores.

Scott was depressed that he couldn't "save" the girls from having to do their chores. I mean I wasn't happy about it but I guess I felt OK with it whereas he went into Daddy-mode. But we don't have much time before our group splits its focus and Scott needs to take advantage as much as possible of the extra labor before they head to Aldea. This morning there were still three dozen buildings tagged for immediately dismantling and they only have two days to do it. None of the buildings got pulled down but most of them were pretty much gutted today. Tomorrow the guys have agreed to forego their Rest Day … assuming the weather cooperates better than it did today … and they pull down what buildings they can and the rest will just have to be done slower.

Weather cooperation isn't what I would call at a high level right now. The front must be stalled right over the top of us. Not that we don't need the rain but we've had several days running of the stuff. No flooding that lasted too long despite some pretty torrential downpours during the day but we do have standing water at the end of a lot of driveways.

It's a good thing that David did that one section of the canal. The canal has already filled back up right to that point. So far the artificial embankment built from the broken concrete blocks is holding. When David wasn't helping dismantle the rubble houses outside of the Wall he was getting filthy climbing around in the canal trying to get the next section of embankment going. The only thing I asked him to be careful of was not to destroy any more of the elderberry bushes than he had to. In August and September I hope to harvest them and show Waleski how I make elderberry extract which is an immune booster for treating both influenza A and B; or at least it is supposed to be, I prefer my cayenne pepper remedy to tell you the truth.

Rose was over at the clinic with Melody, Rilla, and Ski most of the day. They were doing a new inventory and preparing the supplies that would go with Aldea. Rose admitted at dinner around our own table … it was a huge cauldron of soup that was divided up amongst the families/groups to eat where ever they could get out of the rain … that it was disconcerting to see the chunk of supplies just suddenly go like that. They still have quite a bit but what was taken out was noticeable.

Aldea's medical situation is going to be better than a lot of people are dealing with right now but not as good as we have it in Sanctuary. Austin is going to head up the med stuff there. He's practically a vet anyway and he'll just carry over that training into human treatment. There is less difference in some stuff than people realize. He's already proven to be cool in an emergency as evidence when that he and Dix and a couple of the others were attacked while hunting at Lowry Park Zoo.

It's going to be a while before they stay overnight at Aldea. The group will leave in the morning, work all day setting up their perimeter and getting the storage containers stacked into their own Wall/apartments, and then at night they'll come back to Sanctuary. Glenn says that if the weather lets up he thinks they can get the basic set up done in a week and make it secure enough that they can start moving families in.

While they are still "going and coming" we'll go through and start dividing up the food. We'll have to start them out with a bunch of the canned and dried foods which will cut into Sanctuary's reserves but we have all the gardens going. One of the first things they have to do is set up the rice fields and get their regular garden plotted and dug out. The plan is for them to plant the rice asap and start planting a vegetable garden on the first of April. They are only going to have about two weeks to get set up before they have to start this.

Matlock and Dix think that at first we'll have twice a week supply exchanges. Once Aldea becomes more self-sufficient that may go down to once a week or even bi-weekly. We'll still cooperate on issues of security and hunts that take us out of the immediate area or trading parties that go out of the immediate area.

If I had to find historical references for the differences between Aldea and Sanctuary I would say that Sanctuary is similar to a small medieval walled town though we don't have the same type of population. Aldea is going to be more kin to the forts on the frontier, particularly those of the backcountry era when the young US first began to expand past the Smoky Mountains. Sanctuary is big enough that we live inside the Wall most of the time. Aldea is going to be smaller and more compact so while they'll sleep and eat inside their compound, most of their working and living time will likely be spent outside their wall but still within a patrolled perimeter. I'm not sure but I think Matlock mentioned that they were going to scavenge chain link fencing and then install it along a strategic line inside the park. That's not going to happen however until they build their primary compound and get their gardens up and running.

Some folks are also making some noise about another extended run either to the north or south of the state. Angus and Jim have mentioned that they'd like to see the east coast of Florida and may even dip down towards the south just to see what is up. Scott hasn't said so explicitly but I think he might be interested in another run to the north, maybe along the panhandle this time. I thought they ran into enough trouble last time they tried that. Angus and Jim I can kinda see, they've got built in wanderlust. But Scott has responsibilities here at home. I'm not at all thrilled by the prospect of him going anywhere much less taking James which is what I overheard.

Lots of changes coming rapidly but I guess that is no different than what has happened for months now. I have just gotten comfortable with the way things are. The way things are right now is what feels like security. I know dividing our population is a bit inevitable … too many alphas in a confined space does not make for easy living. On the other hand it is hard for me to justify it when I know for a fact how relatively well-off we are right now at this given point in time. Scott tries to comfort me by saying things like, "the whole is greater than the sum of the parts." I guess what he is trying to say when he gets all Confucius-y is that extending our sphere of influence over a larger area by seeding places with our own people we become stronger than the individual settlements would at first appear. We aren't just individual settlements in the wilderness but like-minded colonies working towards a common goal which gives us greater influence over the final construct that we build.

We've spent so much time surviving the immediate here and now that I'm having trouble readjusting my thinking to anything beyond the immediate future. Scott and I used to talk about our retirement years and the things we wanted to do when we got there. We made long term financial plans including for the kids' futures. Now all I seem to be able to plan for is from one meal to the next.

The gardens are helping me put things back into a longer view perspective. I think one of the reasons that David is so very interested in building up the canal with fish and such is that it is working to a future and long-lasting result. Rose continues to be adamant that the medical field is where she wants to be and she certainly is going towards that with gusto. She studies every evening after all her daily work is complete.

James seems to be free-floating. He hadn't really settled on what he wanted to do when he grew up and almost any plan he would have had has been pretty well kyboshed at this point. He has really grown up but I want something more for his future than just a gun in his hands sitting on the Wall waiting for an enemy that may never appear. Yes, some of that needs to be done by dedicated individuals but there needs to be something more to fall back on as well. It's like those students with the football scholarships that have dreams of making it to the professionals and that is all they ever focus on. When they aren't drafted by a professional franchise or even if they do but get cut after a season or two they have nothing to fall back on.

Scott and I have talked about this a few times. We had so much to choose from when it came to our future. We didn't have unlimited choices, no one does really, but we certainly had a whole lot to choose from. Our kids … it's almost as if NRS has robbed them of some of their potential. But at the same time that isn't what I mean because it sounds like I'll be disappointed if Rose never earns her doctorate or James never goes to college or my Sarah never actually becomes a certified Vet. NRS has robbed them of choices I guess is a better way of saying it.

It sounds petty when put beside the fact that NRS robbed so many of life altogether. I guess every parent's dream is for their kids to have more and better options than they themselves did. I know I still want better for the kids than what we have right now. It's not that I don't appreciate what we have right now but sometimes I worry that the kids will look back and have regrets. Scott says we need to keep in mind that the kids access to choices may only be temporarily delayed and not necessarily taken away completely. I hope that is all that it is.

Oh, I don't expect things to go back to the way they used to be very quickly if at all but it's hard to come to terms with the fact that it may be our grandkids or great grandkids before the same types of choices are available to children.

Well obviously you can tell I'm not feeling my best. I always get morose when I'm sick. I ran a fever off and on and I can actually feel it coming back as I'm sitting here writing. Charlene is already asleep as are most of the kids. Only James is up and acting twitchy and bored; usually he and Charlene play a game of chess at night before he goes on guard duty or just sit and talk. He hasn't complained but I can tell he isn't feeling one hundred percent. Sarah made him a thermos of Russian Tea to take on duty tonight and startled him with her unexpected thoughtfulness. Of all the kids those two go at it more than any of the others. I suppose it is that they are four years apart and the opposite sex. There are days when I want to throw something at both of them; they like to irritate each other so much.

Scott had guard duty during supper. He should be home shortly and then James will go and stop looking so gloomy. I don't know who is took my place today. Scott had Ski come over first thing this morning when I woke up with a fever. I've slept off and on today but not as much as I wanted to if you want the truth.

I did some school work with the kids despite it being Saturday. That Monday through Friday school schedule is kind of useless these days. We get our schooling when and where we can. After everyone leaves for Aldea however I am determined to put an honest to goodness school schedule into effect for the kids who remain here. Today's school work mostly entailed using math, science, and research skills to plan the garden patches that will go into the ground the beginning of April. After that I had them go through all of their clothes and pull out the stuff that needs repair or is too small and separate it into piles; this included all of their underclothing and accessories. They also had to clean their shoes and hats. Sarah (and Samuel who was over at our house as usual) were very good at keeping this activity organized while I took another short nap.

When I woke up I found the mending pile smaller than I expected it to be. We've done really well about keeping things sewn up and in good repair. I wasn't happy to see that nearly all of the kids need new shoes of some type. I asked Samuel how he was doing and he blushed and said that he could use some new shoes too but Dix was sewing most of his clothes back together for him. I told him not to be embarrassed. It wasn't Patricia's fault that she was confined to bed, it just happened to be that way right now.

That seemed to bring him out of his shyness and he took off his shoe and showed me where Dix had "darned" his socks. I'll give Dix and A+ for effort but putting patches of duct tape was unlike any sewing project that I've ever seen. I had to cough into my hand so I wouldn't laugh out loud. After Samuel left and we were cleaning up from our last meal of the day Sarah came to me and said, "Gosh Mom. Do you think it would be all right if I fixed his socks? I don't want to make Mrs. Patricia mad, or Mr. Dix either, but even I know you don't fix holes in clothes by putting tape on them."

I told her I'd talk to Patricia when I got over my cold and we'd probably look into pulling him some clothes out of storage. Shoes though he needs right away and I have made a note to mention it to Dix. Samuel's feet though are pretty big. I think the last size we got for him were size sixteen. If he has already grown out of those it might just be better to make him some moccasins. And I've just remembered where I put that pattern for turning car tires into sandals so we'll probably make some of those as the daylight hangs around longer and we have more time.

Oh, I'm getting to fell not so good again. 'Night. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. Bless this rain. Curse this cold.


	181. Day 224

**Day 224 (Monday) – March 12**

Just found a great big giant hole in my plans. Why is that we always consider ourselves indestructible? I mean that is just totally stupid.

Saturday night I got really sick. My fever would go up and down but I just couldn't kick it all the way. I was pretty out of it most of yesterday and didn't start really feeling human again until late yesterday afternoon. But I was weak as a day old kitten. I haven't done much better today. No fever, thank goodness, but still really zapped of any strength. I tried to get up several times today and just …. well, I'm embarrassed to say that I was so tired I cried like a baby.

I'm glad no one but this journal will ever know that I did. I just plain broke down. My "to do" list is just so long now and I can't afford to lay around like I have for the last two days. The reason though that I say I have a giant hole in my plans is because I realized I've been making the same mistakes that I swore I wouldn't make. I just let the kids gravitate to doing the things they like best and picked up the slack in the other stuff.

Rose is almost 100% in the clinic these days. She helps with cooking some and does help with the kids when she is off duty and not studying. She also helps with chores around the house. I thought that would be OK … she really doesn't like gardening and I figured her time was better spent doing other things. My Sarah is an animal person and she is very good at helping with all of those chores. She even does the more disgusting chores like mucking the stables without a single complaint. And she helps some around the house. James used to be who I could count on most for all of the outdoor work but he is now much more interested in guard duty and being with the men and because when he isn't doing that he is helping Scott I just didn't think much of it. Bekah wants to learn everything she can about communications in general and the radio specifically … and it's needed that some of the younger folk are there to help.

But what about the gardening? The littles help me but I have to guide nearly their every step. Scott wouldn't know a squash from a cucumber from a gourd if it picked the hoe up and hit him in the head. He sure can't tell the difference between any of the root crops until they've been pulled up. And he can look at something and without measuring tell you how much wood or cement will be needed but he hasn't a clue how to plant a garden.

Now Reba and Betty sure do know how to take care of a garden but after talking to them today they realized the same thing I have. Their kids have no idea how to plan, plant, and manage a garden of any size. We've just been doing it because it was easiest and we seemed to get things done faster.

The only other ones that know anything about gardening are going to Aldea … Saen and Becky primarily. Anne is going to tend the little flock of chickens they are going to install over there since she used to keep a small flock pre-NRS.

Charlene and my Sarah both tried to help today but it was a mess. Like a dope I never labeled the rows of what I planted where. I just didn't think about it. They couldn't tell the difference between the squash, cucumbers, and melons that I've planted.

Only half the washing that needed to get done got done today as well. All of the bedding needed to be washed but the girls were barely able to get the jeans and all the under things washed, rinsed, and hung to dry. It was dinner time before they finished the last load of towels and they didn't have time to dry before night fell. They are going to have to stay on the line overnight and finish drying tomorrow. I hope the birds don't get on them or they'll have to be rewashed. As it is they are going to be hard and coarse as sandpaper.

Tomorrow all I'm going to be able to do is hang the linens out and air them out the best we can. I'm so glad that I keep the mattresses in protectors or they'd be disgusting by now. The pillows too for that matter. That's something else I need to think about. What happens when the mattresses and pillows begin to fall apart? One of the first things Scott and I scavenged were new mattresses and pillows for all the beds in the house and we have some still in one of the steel storage containers but even those will go sooner or later. What are we going to replace the mattresses with? They used to use hay but I'd really hate to go back to that. Dang it, something else to manufacture. Maybe we should start saving feathers like they did in the old days to make pillows and down comforters with.

Scott slept in his easy chair last night trying to not get whatever I have/had. He said he is going to sleep there tonight too just to be on the safe side. Hopefully tomorrow night he'll be able to sleep in his own bed again. That's another reason why I want to air everything out tomorrow to try and get rid of the germs.

I couldn't have picked a worst time to get sick. Things are really starting to take off in the garden. Betty came over with a basket of what they had picked today. There was more broccoli and looseleaf lettuces but they picked the first of the carrots and cabbage. I nearly cried that I hadn't been there to pull the first ones but I guess I should be grateful that things are making.

So far the way I planted it turned out to be great. There is yet to be more fresh produce come ripe than we can use in a single day. That day is fast approaching and that's when we'll need to start preserving things for when the garden gives out.

And speaking of giving out, that's where I am right now. I'm all give out. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to be up and about but I had to try. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.


	182. Journal Day 227

**Day 227 (Thursday) – March 15**

Two missed days of journaling but I suppose it would be too much to expect to be able to do exactly what I want every day.

Day before yesterday I was still dragging but I'm feeling better today than I have been in a while. Not what I would call one hundred percent but certainly better. Scott heated me up another tub of water Tuesday night and I soaked the germs and general malaise from my body. Wednesday I was still getting better but feeling like I was trying to relapse a bit but today was all good … at least health-wise.

The intermediate reality of our new living situation is slowly sinking in. The crew that is going to be living in Aldea started going there on Tuesday. I spent much of yesterday and today inventorying items and splitting stuff by percentage. As soon as they get their primary compound set up they'll take 20% of the food storage and dry goods. After they are firmly established and have their storage capacity and system worked out they'll get another 20% of the food storage. We'll provide them with fresh foods and a share of the corn crop until they can get their garden going. In exchange they'll provide us with a share of rice.

Fuel won't be split as Glenn and some of the others found a partially filled tanker left behind by the NRSC at a refueling point. The fuel that is at Sanctuary will remain here to run the tractor and to be pieced out while we increase our biofuel capacity; primarily with methane and cellulose and "white lightning."

Some of the plans for Aldea have changed. The recent rain we got, while not nearly enough to call off the drought, has definitely pointed out some of the problems with building Aldea. First, the main compound location has been changed. It will be in the main park area that has been built up and leveled off. It's really the only good place in the park stable enough year round for a good foundation. That location change will also mean that fewer trees will have to be taken down. The peninsula where they were originally going to build was nothing but lowland and cypress. However they are going to build an emergency bug out location on the original peninsula up on stilts and maintain it to a fallback position.

The new location for Aldea does offer one benefit. There is an inlet of sorts that can be turned into a protected harbor. There is already an existing boardwalk right along that side of the river and that can be used to help with the water mill idea that has been spoken of. They'll also be closer to the "lake" portion of the Hillsborough River which should help them with fishing and trading as well. And the observation tower will get them a really great view of the surrounding area if they can get it fortified.

Well, it is what it is. There are things about Aldea that I like and things that I don't. I'll admit to partiality to Sanctuary but I understand that it isn't perfect either. One of the things about Sanctuary that was always on the problematic side was the fact that it was right on a main highway. US41 offered both good and bad things but it's a little on the moot side now as it has been so torn up, blown up, washed out, burnt, and just about anything else you can think of including having a major train derailment wreck the heck out of a couple of sections several months back. As badly damaged as the road is it won't be long before grass and weeds add to the deterioration and US41 will return to the mud track it was a hundred years ago.

On the other hand, if we can get a trade route set up, Sanctuary is in a perfect position to take major advantage of any traffic in that regard. Aldea could be a trade center by water and Sanctuary could be a trade center by land. We'd be sister communities that could lock in and become major players in any rebuilding that goes on. The only better position for something of that nature would be something immediately along the coast and then you have issues with the annual hurricane season.

As for trading, we have our first real trade as far as I'm concerned. It wasn't a huge trade as things go but I think a significant one and something that I had Brandon note in the history of Sanctuary that he is keeping. A woman came to the front gate today and had heard from the peddlers that we might be interested in trade. She had homemade soap to trade and was looking for some garden starts. I traded a tray of garden seedlings and a few packets of seed for five gallons of laundry detergent and a half dozen bars of bath soap.

Why I think this is significant is because neither product was something we could have scavenged. I grew the plants and she – her name was Dora – made the soap from scratch. This was a total cottage industry type deal.

I guess I better confess something. I don't think that even Scott would understand if I told him. I just couldn't stand to see how hungry the two kids where that the woman had with her. They called her "aunt" so I'm assuming that they were her niece and nephew but it could have just been a polite title for a woman that had taken them in. I don't know, I didn't ask though I wondered. Anyway, it hurt to see them. The woman didn't ask for charity and seemed rather proud that she had found a way to make a good trade for what she needed without asking for a handout. I just couldn't stand it so in the basket of seedlings and seeds I put in a hunk of the Pony Express Bread I had made yesterday and a jelly jar of honey.

I know, I know … but it just felt like the right thing to do. Had it been a bunch of adults I wouldn't have done it. If it had felt like she was using the kids to get sympathy I wouldn't have done it. But it didn't feel that way at all. I just hope that if the need ever arrives that "what goes around comes around" will be the pay off.

We are having better and better luck with the garden production. The rain has had an amazing effect on everything. In addition to the carrots that are coming in we have broccoli and the looseleaf lettuce. The first couple of heads of cabbage were cut and the radishes are coming in again. I have a whole row of Chiogga beets that I'm going to harvest and preserve tomorrow and the English peas are beginning to come in so fast that I'm having to pick the ones ready for harvest and put them in the Cooler until I have enough to can a batch in the pressure canner.

And today I harvested the first head of iceberg lettuce and shredded it up. We had a wonderful dinner tonight. I mixed 1:1:1 some taco flavored TVP, ground venison, and canned ground beef and then seasoned it up really well. We had a few boxes of corn tortillas that needed to be used so I pulled those out of the inventory and freshened them up and of course we made a ton of flour tortillas. Reba made some sour cream and Betty brought some cheese she has been aging and I made some queso blanco from some powdered milk past its best used by date. I added some homemade salsa that I had made last year and then baked some of the flour tortillas and turned them into chips. My girls helped by making up a big batch of refried beans. I wish I had fresh tomatoes to add to it but the tomatoes aren't due to be ripe until next week at the earliest.

Tomorrow is another cleaning day but I'm going to be inventorying and reorganizing in the food storehouse for the most part except for a little bit of gardening and then working on getting the beets preserved. Betty actually told me if I wanted to help get the jars all set up she would be happy to watch the canner for me. She is teaching another lesson on canning to the girls.

We are doing this really cool stuff. For every "lesson" we are making a scrapbook page. OK, I know most guys would probably find this kind of corny but this is a really good way to put stuff definitely in memory. We can't really take pictures but we can draw and we have a ton of scrapbooking stuff that we've gathered and it can be as fancy or as plain as you want it.

Over the summer when it is too hot to do anything else I plan on teaching them embroidery and crochet and maybe even quilting if it doesn't make me too sad. Mom taught Sarah some quilting since Rose just never was interested. Sarah still has her first quilt block and has it framed and hanging in her room. I miss Momma.

I gotta stop writing for tonight. I'm getting too sad all of a sudden and it just won't do for Scott to come in from guard duty and find me crying.


	183. Day 228

**Day 228 (Friday) – March 16**

It has been a fairly productive day. Up early and dawn was clear and bright. Breakfast was cornmeal cakes; some liked them sweet and some liked them savory, I didn't care just as long as they cleaned their plates.

After breakfast most of the Aldea folks left for the day, including the women and children. They were going to start cooking their mid-day meal on-site instead of taking stuff from here. That means that we don't have near as many to cook for and those that remain are the ones that tend to be used to the way I normally cooked. I prefer to fix a hearty breakfast; not big, hearty. Lunch is the main meal of the day. I have a "tea time" around 4 o'clock and then a lighter supper is served about 7 o'clock at night.

I guess I picked up my in-laws' habits after Scott and I got married; but it works most of the time for us. If the youngest kids are too tired to stay up late enough for dinner they won't go to bed hungry because they've had "tea time." There's been a few times when some of the adults aren't hungry enough to eat supper and tea time is enough for them as well. The tea time also helps with our guard duty rotations.

Dix is working out a new schedule for guard duty here at Sanctuary. It's going to be challenging to manage but we did it before our population became so large. So if we did it before, we'll do it again. I'll be back on the rotation pretty regular but mostly during the day probably … hopefully. What I'm really hoping is that this isn't too hard on the men, but we don't have much choice.

The kids are really going to have to kick it up a notch and help with the work around Sanctuary. They are already helping quite a bit but until we can get into a new routine they are going to have to help pick up the slack. The cows are giving between five and eight gallons of milk per day and that's a lot of work but the Cooler helps. We are now also processing cheeses which everyone is really excited about. That's going to impact the "school" schedule we were trying to create but though it has been discussed there simply isn't any other options at this time.

Today however was primarily cleaning and processing beets. And we had a bunch more beets to harvest than I expected. For the succession planting I did I think I needed more than a day or two between the rows. We have most of three rows ready to pick so that means we had a lot to process.

We were able to make quite a few beet items: beet jelly, pickled beets, beet relish, and plain beets. We've still got quite a few beets in the Cooler and I'm afraid people are going to get sick of them eventually. At lunch we had a beet casserole as a side dish and then Betty and I laughed and giggled the entire time we were making brownies that had beets hidden in them. We had them during tea time. Here is the recipe. We'll give it a couple of day before we confess what was in them.

 **Chocolate Beet Brownies**

1/2 cup butter (or 1/4 cup butter and 1/4 cup applesauce)  
4 oz. unsweetened chocolate  
4 eggs  
1 cup brown sugar (packed)  
1 cup applesauce  
1 tsp. vanilla  
1-1/2 cup unbleached white flour  
1/2 tsp. salt  
1/2 tsp. nutmeg  
1 tsp. cinnamon  
1 tsp. baking powder  
1 cup cooked beets or 15 oz. can beets packed in water, drained and mashed;  
1/2 cup finely chopped almonds  
1/2 cup wheat germ

Melt butter and chocolate over low heat. Set aside to cool. In a separate bowl, beat eggs until light in color and foamy. Add sugar and vanilla and continue beating until well creamed. Stir in chocolate mixture, followed by applesauce and beets. Sift together flour, salt, spices and baking powder and stir into creamed mixture. Fold in wheat germ and almonds. Turn into greased 9x13-inch pan and bake at 350 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes. Cool before cutting into squares.

Betty and I were giggling so much we had to leave the kitchen area because people kept asking us what was so funny. You know, I'm glad Scott and I didn't try and do this whole "survival" thing on our own. I love Scott. I love the kids. But there are certainly issues of weakness in a small family group that you can compensate with by being part of a larger group with similar goals.

Not too big though. I remember the problems that the Ehren Cutoff group had and I think some of the issues were a direct result of their size and how they were trying to govern themselves. It will be interesting to see now that we are cutting our "leadership" in half how well things will run. I used to not be real thrilled with Dix and there are still issues with him that I'm not totally in line with; however, if I had to choose which man had grown the most as a leader between Matlock and Dix I have to admit that it would be Dix.

Matlock continues to be Matlock. He has always had the better rapport with people and been more flexible. When he and Becky hooked up and moved to their own place some of the relationship I had with him changed but that was to be expected. I don't think I resented that but on the other hand I did catch myself comparing him to the men in my family. I was probably getting a little too close and involved. No one is going to replace my brother and I just need to learn to deal with that.

Dix on the other hand has certainly learned to be more flexible and to work within the group better. He was such a solo act I used to worry about how he would work out as a person in leadership. In some weird way it's like he has become more comfortable in his own skin and being comfortable with himself helps him to be comfortable with others. He always seemed so arrogant and that just irritated me beyond reason, but he isn't that way now. He still intimidates some people but not to the extreme he used to. He can't help he is one of those big guys that looks like GI Joe on steroids. I think it also helps people see him as a father to Samuel and how much effort he is willing to put into being a good one.

I think we've all changed to some degree. We are still ourselves but stretched and grown in ways we could never have envisioned. Okay Sissy, getting a little heavy on the analyzing of personalities. Time to return to reporting on the day to day realities.

I have most of the first 20% of the food divided out for the Aldea folks to take. They'll take most of that on Monday. Saen and Anne are heading that part up. Becky is miserable with nerves and morning sickness that has come back on her. The mosquitoes and no-seeums are pretty bad over there as well. They've taken quite a bit of screening with them but they can't spend all of their time inside their storage container homes, they aren't designed for that.

Bugs are getting bad here as well now that the cool weather is gone for good and the recent rains have left enough moisture for the mosquitoes to breed in. They don't need standing water but it doesn't hurt. The fish in the ponds and canals will actually help with this as they will eat most of the mosquito larvae laid in that water.

Scott has finished covering all of the cisterns but we aren't sure what to do with the open, in-ground pools that aren't screened. We may have to empty those and fill them in somehow. Now that we are picking up regular radio broadcasts again we've been hearing that some insect borne diseases are making a comeback around the coasts and inland water sources. Waleski is running around like a nut trying to locate info and figure out ways to prevent and/or treat cases of stuff like cholera, yellow fever and a lot of other stuff we haven't had to deal with on a regular basis since early last century.

What was really scary was a report out of the Texas quarantine zone – an area where most people prefer to call themselves citizens of the Republic of Texas – of a typhoid epidemic. Early on when we were scavenging the health facilities around University Hospital Waleski grabbed all of the routine vaccines and gave everyone, adults included, boosters of the vaccines that didn't require refrigeration. And then when we were scavenging downtown they went through the County Health Clinic there on Kennedy Blvd. and he grabbed most everything else he could find.

The County Health Clinic over that way is where a lot of folks from this area used to get their traveling vaccines; the ones that are required to enter certain countries. Rose and James had gotten some of them already because they went on a couple of mission trips to places that required them. They had the typhoid vaccine as well as the one for meningitis. Scott got those two plus the one for yellow fever when he went to South America on business a couple of years ago. Our whole family has both the HepA and HepB vaccines as well as the MMR and boosters where necessary because of the clientele we rent to ... rented to.

Our family was the exception to the rule however and except for the military and National Guard personnel that had served over seas most everyone else received an extensive list of shots. Waleski gave everyone as many of the updated vaccines as he could but vaccines are never 100% effective and don't replace precautions. Vaccines also do not offer lifetime protection. I think the longest that a vaccine will cover you is the lifetime coverage of the polio vaccine followed probably by the up to 10 years offered by the Tetanus vaccine (Tdap). But the flu vaccine only lasts a year at most and even the typhoid vaccine will only last two years. Hopefully every vaccine will give us a buffer of protection to get us through the next couple of years and after that massive epidemics will go down or disappear … I hope.

The food storehouse is looking pretty good. I figured out a way to get more storage shelving in each room. The really heavy stuff sits on shelves that have been screwed into the studs around the edges of the walls but rather than wasting all that floor space I added long, sturdy shelves on wheels. Scott has helped modify and/or build a bunch of shelves like this so that when the shelves are being rolled the stuff doesn't fall off the shelf or fall over on the shelf and make a mess.

Let me see if I can explain it. Say you have a 12 x 12 foot room. On three sides of the room you have 24-inch wide shelves from floor to ceiling. That means that you have a 10 x 10 foot space that is pretty useless smack dab in the middle; space that would be really useful. You really only need about three feet wide walk ways to be able to work in. That means that I could still have another 7 foot long strip of space. That means I can put four more 18-inch wide shelves in that space if I pushed them right up onto each other. But that would make it difficult to access everything and keep it rotated properly. But with the shelving on wheels they can be moved back and forth one at a time and you could continue to have at least a three foot wide walking path.

OK, it's not a perfect solution and accidents are bound to happen but if the national archives can do it for their paper files I don't see why I can't utilize a variation of it for our food supplies. I tell you it's really let me organize things a lot better and I haven't had to utilize quite so many of those plastic tubs that sometimes collapse under the weight of anything stacked on them. In bigger rooms where this system doesn't make a lot of sense I had the guys install shelving that we scavenged from Keel Library and that has worked really well too.

I'm really getting into the swing of things and this is something the littles can help me with. Get enough little rugrats going and you can move an amazing amount of cans in no time. Nothing broke and only a couple of cans were dented. That's a good day. I would like to finish it up tomorrow but I don't think that will happen. For one I promised the kids that I'd do some special cooking for St. Patrick's Day. For another it is Baking Day and we really do need to do that tomorrow. I have a couple of bread recipes that I want to try out to stretch out the wheat flour we have remaining.

We are also going to go through a lot of the "dry goods" (non-food items) that we stored in the steel containers and pull out stuff that Aldea might need. And all of that is going on while the Aldea folks begin to pack up their households so that everything can be hauled over to their new home.

I did mention something to Scott and I hope he mentions it to Glenn and Matlock. People that aren't used to living in apartments may have an adjustment reaction to living in those steel storage containers. I know they will be remodeling them as time goes along but I worry they are going to be a little dark and cramped. While I was working in the food storehouse – which can be dark and stifling as well – I thought it might be nice if they go to the New Orleans or Charleston way of doing things. You have what amounts to a shotgun type house and then you have these really wonderful porches and patios where most of the living is actually done. In New Orleans there are some beautiful (were some?) cast iron balconies on the second and third floors of buildings that let people take advantage of any breeze that happened to come through. In Charleston they have the same type thing only under roof and they are called piazzas and they were as large as a veranda and serve basically the same purpose. Just seems like a way to have the best of both worlds to me. And if they want to screen in the piazzas that would be even better.

Well, James just got in from guard duty and Scott is ready to head off so I need to see him out the door. I hope tomorrow is as fine a day as today was. I need more of those.


	184. Day 229

**Day 229 (Saturday) – March 17 – St. Patrick's Day**

Happy St. Paddy's Day! And as you can see for the occasion I've pulled out a green gel pen. Yeah, I know, more than a little on the silly side but I feel the need for a little silliness.

One of the last breakfasts we will all have together and the kids are already bitterly complaining about being separated. Many of them had become quite close. Everyone will survive but I think it will be at least as hard on the kids as it will be on the adults. And because I'm a big marshmallow I let the kids talk me into celebrating St. Patrick's Day with some special cooking.

Breakfast was green eggs and ham and pastel green gumdrop quick bread. For drinks there was green milk and green juice. I even managed to make green butter and I colored just a little bit of pineapple preserves green as well. The kids loved it, even the older ones laughed. Some of the adults on the other hand had to close their eyes in order to eat.

Matlock looked a little green around the gills as he was trying to swallow. Scott and James who have both had to put up with my weird fits and starts over the years had warned David ahead of time and all three wolfed down their breakfast. All Angus said was that I had better not have messed with the coffee. Hmmm … not that I wouldn't have but I couldn't figure out how to make something so dark into a green color.

I didn't stop there either. At lunch we had green tinged Deviled Eggs, pickles, green tortillas that they stuffed with lettuce and a few other things I had set out. The kids had green Limeade to drink that I added some neon green food coloring to. At tea time I had green shamrock shaped cookies and "green tea" and for dinner there was cabbage, green beans, and green tinted mashed potatoes to go with a large pork roast from one of the culled hogs. To top it off I made green Jell-O parfaits with green tinted Dream Whip and a green maraschino cherry on top.

I have to admit by the end of the day even I was getting a little sick of the color green. And Angus finally changed into a green kilt because all the kids kept trying to give him a pinch. I did happen to notice however that a bottle of Bailey's was missing out of the store house and so was a bottle of green food coloring that somehow found its way into a batch of hooch. Guess I wasn't the only one getting silly today. I hope their heads don't ache too badly in the morning. If they toss their cookies from the hangover and see all that green you can bet they'll just get all that much sicker.

Aside from the silliness we did get quite a bit of constructive work accomplished. Scott has managed to get the last house that was in complete disrepair taken down here inside the Wall. He's also marked off where he wants to add another gate into the Wall. It's on the north side and makes sense. It will be a minor gate to start with; mostly for human traffic or small vehicles. If it turns out that we start using the gate quite a bit he's made the plans flexible enough so that the gate can grow into one about the size of the front gatehouse with the same security features.

We did a lot of baking today and I have to say that the new recipes I tried out were really fantastic. First I found a lot of dried beans in our storage that were way, way, way passed their "best used by" dates. I had tried a few of each bean to see if they would rehydrate well but had very poor results. Rather than toss the beans or feed them to the animals I decided to make bean flour with them.

To save us a lot of work I hooked up an electric grinder to one of the battery powered sources and ground the beans as fine as bread flour. It took a while even with the electric grinder so I'm really glad I wasn't doing it by hand. Once I had a good supply of bean flour I substituted 30% of the wheat flour for bean flour in my regular bread recipe. Of the different bean flours that I tried the garbanzo bean flour turned out with the best flavor in my opinion.

I also ground some rice up this way and made rice flour. I could substitute 30% of the wheat flour this way as well. I had several boxes of barley that we needed to do something with so I made barley flour as well and I could substitute up to 50% of the wheat flour that way. I've got some other books I needed to go through and I'm hoping to find some whole grain bread recipes to use so I don't have to grind anything down.

While the bread was baking Betty, Reba, and I sat around making plans. The kids don't know it yet but come April Fool's Day they are going to start back with an organized school schedule. I don't know what they have planned for the kids going to Aldea but the kids staying here are going to get a traditional education whether they want one or not. I'm sure I'm going to have problems with James and Betty and Reba think they'll have problems with some of the older Morris kids as well but we are all determined to do this. Tomorrow we are going to get together again and I'll bring a list of resources that I have and we'll try and piece out a lesson plan and some goals.

As soon as the Aldea folks are firmly settled Angus and Jim said they are going to go for a little ride. I think they mean to go nosing around south of here and see what kind of trouble they can get into. The NRS infecteds have finally dropped back down to what they were before the Hive came along but all that says is that it is still going to be dangerous as all get. They are equipping Juicer with better communication devices so hopefully it won't be like they enter a black hole and we don't hear from them again until they come banging on the gate.

Scott keeps talking around it, but I know he wants to go on another run to the north; maybe even passed the state line and over into Georgia. As you can guess I'm not terribly thrilled by the idea but it's a bit inevitable. I'm sure there are going to be things that we need to trade for. Apples for one but that won't be until August or September. Before that, maybe in July, we are going to need to see about trading for some wheat. That's assuming any was planted this year by people willing to bargain for it and that we have what they are interested in.

I guess I should just go ahead and put this in but I'm afraid whoever reads this down the road is going to think I'm being judgmental. I don't mean to be but I'm just having a problem reconciling this with my admittedly conservative take on things. Seems it wasn't the adult women that I should have been wondering about in terms of who was going to get caught pregnant next.

I knew Brandon and Josephine were an "item." I knew they were close and I knew that they were likely treading a very fine line when it came to how they were conducting themselves in private. Jim and I had found that little lover's nest and I had considered the possibility it was their trysting place even then. But I hadn't really considered it any of my business. They weren't within my sphere of discipline; or at least that was how I rationalized not getting involved.

I also tried to tell myself that having Maddie around all the time had to be cramping their style. Apparently not. Josephine is six to eight weeks pregnant and she's only sixteen years old. For some odd reason Rose is angry about this. When I try and talk to her about it she shuts me out. I'll give her the night to cool off and then I'll try again tomorrow. It's just such an unusual reaction that I'd like to know what is causing it. I mean I'm not happy about it and I think they could have used more restraint and commonsense but I'm not seething or anything. Rose is really PO'd and that's not like her at all.

Now we have four pregnant females. Rhonda is about eight and a half months pregnant. Patricia is 29 weeks along and continues to weaken though she is doing her best to hang in there. I went over and helped Jack do a few things around the house and Patricia slept nearly the entire time. She is all baby, her arms and legs are too thin and the other women and I are trying to come up with something that will put some extra calories into her diet. Becky is fifteen weeks along but she is going to Aldea so I won't see her as much. Terra will be the midwife over there and she and Ski have been coordinating a few things just in case of emergencies. And now Josephine. I am so glad that I no longer have to worry about getting pregnant. I just can't get it out of my head that Rose is so bent out of shape. I'm definitely going to have to figure out what that is all about. My imagination is running a little wild at the moment and skittering over possibilities that I don't even want to contemplate.

Tomorrow is Rest Day but it promises to be a busy one so I'm going to toddle on off to bed. I don't have guard duty tonight and neither does Scott. It is rare that we are both off on the same night so we plan on making the most of it.


	185. Day 230

**Day 230 (Sunday) – March 18 – Rest Day**

Think I may have found a way to help Patricia to eat more and put more carbs and protein into her diet as well. As I lay in bed last night trying to sleep – Scott was snoring again – I kept thinking about all the beans we've got in the storehouse both canned and dried and how I needed to start putting them into our menu more often. And that led me back to the bean bread that we had baked today. And then that thought led me to remember the extra oomph that was in the bread because of the bean flour. And then for some reason my mind jumped to the fact that Patricia really likes muffins. If she can't keep anything else down she'll eat a muffin so we've been keeping some on hand just for her.

Bingo! A mental jackpot; and I was finally able to go off to sleep. See, one of the things that I used to do as a hobby was collect recipes. I've got cookbooks galore but I also copied them out of library books and off the internet. I even created a several special cookbooks just for our prep foods. One of these is a Bean Book. I knew just where it was too because I had just finished looking through it for the directions for making bean flour. I remember skimming over a recipe for making Blueberry Bean Muffins but I didn't take much notice of it at the time. Well, as soon as I got up this morning I scrambled through the binder and found the recipe again and that's what I made for breakfast. Oh, we made chorizo grits and scrambled eggs as well but I was anxious to see if the muffins turned out.

Oh boy they were good. And I actually saw Patricia eat three of them with fresh butter and on one of them she even put jelly. This is such a good thing. Waleski wanted to know what I had put in the muffins because he was getting pretty desperate. He had tried to get her to drink all different kinds of nutritional shakes that he could come up with but she couldn't keep them down. They really didn't taste all that great in my opinion and they smelled terrible so I'm not surprised she had problems gagging them down.

Here's the recipe in case anyone wants it. Instead of the fresh or frozen blueberries I used dried blueberries that I rehydrated. I also left the pecans out of half the batches because we have some folks that aren't partial to nuts. Not having an electric food processor in our kitchen area I used a potato masher on the beans until I got a thick paste and then I added the milk to smooth it out even more.

Blueberry Bean Muffins

2 cans (15 ounces each) Red Kidney beans or 3 cups cooked Red Kidney beans, drained, rinsed  
1/3 cup milk  
1 cup sugar  
1/4 cup butter or margarine, softened  
3 eggs  
2 teaspoons vanilla  
1 cup all-purpose flour  
1/2 cup whole wheat flour  
1 teaspoon baking soda  
1/2 teaspoon salt  
1 teaspoon cinnamon, ground  
1/2 teaspoon each of ground allspice and ground cloves  
1 cup blueberries, fresh or frozen  
3/4 cup pecans, chopped

Process beans and milk in food processor or blender until smooth. Mix sugar and butter in large bowl; beat in eggs and vanilla. Add bean mixture, mixing until well blended. Mix in combined flours, baking soda, salt and spices. Gently mix in blueberries. Spoon mixture into 12 greased or paper-lined muffin cups; sprinkle with pecans. Bake muffins in preheated 375-degree oven until toothpicks inserted in centers come out clean, 20 to 25 minutes. Cool in pans on wire racks 5 minutes; remove from pans and cool. Yield: 1 dozen

Betty says that we need to make a Sanctuary Cookbook for posterity and in case something happens to any one of us our recipes will still be around for others to use. I think that makes sense. We have just about a gazillion of those plastic page protectors that we've gathered from various offices and office supply places that will even help keep the recipes neat when in use.

Another nice thing happened today. While out on a bicycle ride with Scott today we found that not all of the fruit trees outside the Wall were destroyed by the Hive or by the NRSC troopers. We crossed the highway to take stock of how many houses we were going to eventually have to demolish on that side. Hidden at a weird angle between a house and a small lake – the same one where we had for a time considered planting the rice – we found three Ponderosa Lemon trees, two large tangerine trees, and some grapefruit trees.

At first I thought the Ponderosa Lemons were grapefruit as they don't look much different. But I cut one open to see if they had started to dry out and sure enough we had a small gold mine on our hands. Scott called back to Sanctuary for the boys and James and Samuel came and helped us pick every tree clean. On his way back from the fish ponds David stopped and picked up the bushels of fruit so we wouldn't have to haul everything over by hand. Tomorrow I'll start juicing the fruit and get them canned up.

David was out with the truck – Jim decided to go with him to keep him out of trouble – getting more fish for the large canal. David has been spending every spare minute dredging the canal and using all the broken cement blocks to reinforce the embankments. He's doing a fine job of it too. The canal is slowly filling up with water again I think in part because David cleaned out the spring area and in part because of the rains we've had. Scott told me that they are thinking of taking a pumper truck and hitting up some of the local ponds for water just to go ahead and get the canal three-quarters full. Whatever floats their boat I guess.

And speaking of boats, in the garage of one of the houses by the lake are two of these little … thingies, I don't know what they are called. You put them on the water and then you can putter around the lake by pedaling just like on a bike. We are going to haul those over for the kids to have for their free time. Not that there is going to be much of that in the near future.

Except for the few odds and ends we've pretty much scavenged our area dry. Aldea will have fresh pickings over their way but Sanctuary is now primarily focused on self-sufficiency and getting ourselves set up for trading. I'm sure we'll continue finding odds and ends for who knows how long but all the good stuff is just gone already. That means that we'll have fewer big Gathering Runs unless we do some with Aldea and OSAG.

And what that means is that we can put in some schooling with the kids because there WILL be time. We talked to Dix today and he is all for it. I think he sees it as a little military school but they already get a lot of that. We want to make sure the kids can read and write not just point and shoot.

Early on the kids really enjoyed the literature units that I pulled together around _The Swiss Family Robinson_ and _Robinson Crusoe_. Our first book in April will be _Alas, Babylon_ for the older kids and we'll start a nine-month study of the _Little House on the Prairie_ series for the younger kids. The LHOTP series I already have a prepackaged curriculum for called _The Prairie Primer_ and I've used it twice already but I think it will be pretty good with the younger ones. We'll have to pull our own lessons together for _Alas, Babylon_ which means more work for me in the evenings. Glory I miss the Internet. At least I won't be doing this by myself. Betty and Reba have both promised to help.

We set up files and a general calendar and Dix knows that we want two solid hours mid-morning to work with the kids. That will take a chunk out of my gardening time but I think it's very important that we are consistent. There will be interruptions no doubt; the trick will be to keep those interruptions to a minimum.

Took my turn on guard duty late in the afternoon so I missed tea time but James brought me something to drink when he was just wandering around with nothing in particular to do. I still hadn't been able to pin Rose down on why she was so bent out of shape over Josephine being pregnant so I asked James if he knew what was going on.

James groused at me, "God Mom, do you have to over analyze everything?"

"Hey, watch your mouth. And I'm not over analyzing this."

After an exaggerated sigh and nose flare I finally got, "Look, it's just … come on, you know she and David are kind of on again off again. When things get too personal Rose just has to back up."

Still confused I asked, "What do you mean 'too personal'?"

"You know. David is a guy. Rose is a girl. There are things guys and girls like to do together. Only Rose and David aren't married so they try and avoid temptation."

Yeah, I was finally getting the picture. "So you mean that she is bent out of shape because Brandon and Josephine aren't making the same sacrifice as she and David are."

"Yeah, I guess you could put it that way. But geez … why don't you ask her?" James replied more than a little embarrassed.

I wanted to tell him that I'd been trying but it was like talking to a brick wall; an angry brick wall. Instead, after my shift was over I grabbed some sun tea and found David working away in the canal, muddy from the chest down.

"OK, I've tried Rose. I've tried James. Now I'll see if you can explain it to me."

David caught me off guard by asking, "You mean why Rose is so angry?"

"Yes, and how did you know what I was asking about?"

"You are a Mom," he laughed. "And Scott warned me you were bothered by it."

I'm definitely going to have to discuss this with Scott. He's giving away my secrets. "Well, what is your conclusion?"

I knew David would give it to me straight with no dressing up. He wasn't raised in a home where you did that kind of stuff. I'm sure some of our old friends would have considered him a little unrefined and maybe a little crude but that has never bothered me. Scott's a bit like that too. Neither one of them has a lot of patience for people that won't just accept them as they are. That in itself has a certain charm to it and I can see why Rose would find David fascinating if nothing else.

"Look. I love Rose. I really love her. I'm pretty sure she feels the same about me but it's a little freaky that if the world hadn't blown up in our faces over the last six or seven months we might never have even met. And I ain't ready for kids. And Rose isn't ready for marriage. You and Scott would probably ask us to wait even if we thought we were ready. Neither one of us wants to compromise on that part of it. So we hang out and when things get … too serious … we try and take a break and just act like friends for a while. We think it is a sacrifice worth making and we hope that when we are both ready for marriage we'll also be ready for kids and all the other stuff that goes along with marriage."

I was still missing something in the translation. "Honey, that's all well and good and frankly I'm glad you both have the sense to back off rather than take unnecessary chances. What I don't get is why Rose is angry."

He shrugged and said, "Probably for the same reason I'm a little bent out of shape about it. We've got enough problems right now. It's not fair that Brandon and Josie went all selfish and now we may all have to pay for it. What's a sixteen year old girl really know about being a mom? What's a seventeen year old punk really know about being a dad? So everyone else now has to deal with their drama when we have enough of our own. Hell, it ain't easy waiting but I'm doing it, why couldn't skinny boy Brandon? And they aren't even getting dragged across the carpet for having sex and getting knocked up. That's what's pissing me off the most."

Oh hoooooo … so now I understood. Maturity is a great thing but it's not an easy thing to have to commit to being. David and Rose had set self-limits based on a wise decision making process. But that doesn't stop them from being a little jealous of those that have been less wise. And then for them to think there have been no consequences, or will be no consequences, from our group probably just put salt in the wound.

"Look David, I feel your pain. Scott and I … well, there was a reason why we lived with our parents and dated for four years before we finally got married. Some of it was money but some of it was that we weren't ready for the risk of starting a family before we had college and other stuff out of the way. There were times we were like static electricity … helplessly attracted and then a huge pop as the power built up to be too much and something set it off."

David blushed a little at that and just kept working. I continued, "There are going to be consequences that I don't think any of us realizes yet. Certainly I don't think Brandon and Josephine have a clue as to what they've gotten themselves into yet. Rose has a better idea than Josie does because she watched me be pregnant four times plus the two we lost and a couple of those pregnancies were through some really rough times and circumstances. You saw in your own family how easily things can and do go wrong. I'm really proud of you and Rose. But don't think that Brandon and Josephine won't be suffering consequences within our group. I'm sure that Ski has ripped them up one side and down the other. I know for a fact that Dix took Brandon aside and gave him one heck of a lecture. Betty has probably scared Josie out of a year's growth with the list of items that she needs to start gathering so that she can take care of herself and the baby. But the fact is that there is a baby and we don't want anything bad to happen to Josie or Brandon so we'll probably have to pick up some of the slack. But if the baby is born and lives, and Josephine survives with no lasting complications, they can pretty much count their childhood totally over and done with."

"Hey I didn't mean that Rose and I were still kids … "

"I know, and I'm sorry it came out like that. I just mean that when you become a parent you have to give up a lot of freedoms that you have when you don't have kids. Your ability to have an egocentric life is just gone. Even bad parents lose that whether they always acknowledge it or not. Burden or blessing, a child changes your life in ways that you can never change back. Even if the child doesn't survive or you give it up for adoption, the memory of the child changes you. That is going to be a lifelong consequence for Brandon and Josephine that there will be no escaping from."

I left a liter of tea for him in the shade of a bush and headed home. On my way I found Rose standing looking at our little graveyard. She jumped as I put my arm around her.

"Don't say it mom, I know life changes fast and I know it's stupid to complain about life not being fair."

"Darlin' I wasn't going to say either of those things. I just wanted you to know how proud I am of you."

She deflated like a fuzzed up cat that gets doused by a bucket of water. We talked a little bit and she pretty much confirmed what David had said but she was more angry at Josephine for not telling Brandon "no." Rose says that Josephine was either too weak to say no, too selfish to say no, or was being too manipulative to say no. I'm not sure that reflects very well on her opinion of Brandon but on the other hand I see her point. I guess we are all going to take a while to get used to the idea.

After stopping by the house to see if Charlene needed a break from watching the littles and finding that Scott and James had already taken them off her hands I asked if she wanted to go to the gardens with me. She is a good girl and I really like her. Her life hasn't been an easy one and it has left its mark on her but you can tell she really wants to take advantage of this new chance that has come her way. She's so eager for a female role model that it half scares me to death. I only hope that we can live up to what she needs. Rose is helping her with her hair … which has also strangely enough drawn Sarah and Bekah in … and girly stuff like that. I guess my role is to help her gain "womanly survival skills" like gardening and cooking and stuff like that. That girl is a hoot, I'll say that. Some of the things that come out of her mouth just tickle me to pieces.

The gardens are looking really great since the rain. We'll have to continue to be careful and water regularly with the soaker hoses into next month but with weed control we should be doing grand before the spring growing season is over with. Got some Kale and Swiss Chard today that I stuck into the cooler for tomorrow's lunch. I was tempted to pull a couple of tomatoes but another day on the vine will make them better. I should definitely be able to start pulling tomatoes tomorrow as well as some bush beans and wax beans. Now is when things start getting interesting. We'll have to decide what to use fresh and what to preserve on a daily basis most likely.

Well, I'm all wrote out. Can't believe I sat here and forgot to drink my warm milk to help me sleep. I'll have to give it to the pups if I can't bring myself to drink it now. I hate waste and that was stupid to forget it was sitting right there beside me.


	186. Day 231

**Day 231 (Monday ) – March19 – Wash Day**

Monday, Monday …. La la, la la la la la Don't you just hate it when a song gets stuck in your head? Especially these days when you can't run to the internet to figure out the lyrics that you can't quite remember or pop in a CD to help you remember the tune or the artist. Music anytime I wanted it is one of the things I miss most I think. We have the music from Radio Free Florida (Steve's Station) and we all have some variation of an mp3 player with our personal favorites downloaded when we can find them and a laptop is charge. On the other hand, we have to be very careful about noise because it attracts too much attention. No more flying down the highway with the radio blaring that's for sure.

The kids and I are learning to play the piano. I remember just a very little bit from when I was a kid and I've grabbed piano lesson books when I've run across them but that only partly relieves the longings we seem to have for music. Charlene is teaching James to play the guitar which is kind of hilarious. Good luck to her because he isn't the most gracious student. Of course if I was a sixteen year old boy who likes Aerosmith and 70s and 80s rock I wouldn't be too thrilled about having to pluck away at _Row, Row, Row Your Boat_ either.

The Aldea folks took quite a bit of their household goods with them this morning when they left. They'll be back tonight although Glenn and some of the other men remained in their compound, and will from here on out, now that they have so much stuff over there that needs guarding.

The reality of their leaving has finally sunk in. Most of these folks I haven't known more than a couple of months yet it still hurts like watching family move away.

I must be crazy. They aren't going that far. Not really, no matter how it feels. We'll see most of everyone on a regular basis; minimum a few times a month at least. It's just going to be different than seeing them every day at every meal. I'm a little anxious about the change I admit. Of course I don't have any choice but to accept it. I talked to Anne and we have discussed making sure we have a monthly play date where the kids can get together. I'm trying to figure out a "pen pal" system where the kids can stay connected even more often. Just because things have to change doesn't mean that we have to completely consider the other group having fallen off the edge of the world. The world has changed, but I hope we haven't reverted that far.

Sometimes I wonder just how long all of the survivor groups will maintain their memberships. Of the Sanctuary/Aldea/OSAG population our family group (including Melody and Charlene and their littles) are the only locals. We have a few from south Florida and the Morris families are from north Florida. Everyone else is from out of state or even further afield like Jim or Saen. What happens when things calm down enough that they get a hankering to find out what happened to their families, friends and property back wherever it is they came from? Will they want to stay? Go? What happens to the communities and new infrastructure that we are building here?

I know any leave taking is necessarily still a ways off yet. The old infrastructure is all gone. Major highways and Interstates are impassible for miles upon miles. Fossil fuel is become more and more scarce despite the much shrunk population; there just isn't a lot of new fuel getting into the pipeline, at least around here. There aren't any grocery stores out here in the Quarantine Zones so resupply is very local and in no small part hazardous unless you do it yourself or have connections.

Knowing that is a problem for down the road I suppose I should put all of those worries to the side but it isn't easy to just let them go. I need to refocus on the good things happening today. And despite everything there ARE good things happening.

We only had to sanitize half a dozen zombies today and none of them were anything other than shamblers. Aldea had to sanitize nearly four times that but still and all that's less than they were seeing every day last week.

I finally managed to get a full washing done. I must have washed ten loads and that didn't include all the bedding I washed. Well … we washed … the girls are really good about helping. Every family group or individual does their own but Melody did hers with us again. Took a lot of water but we had a nice downpour right after dinner that lasted a good thirty minutes and that refilled all of the barrels right back up and then some.

The gardens yielded the first ripe tomatoes and bush beans today. Supper was a huge fresh salad, croutons made from the ends off of the loaves of bread from the last couple of days, and homemade minestrone soup.

Had another visit from Dora and this time she brought a family with her that needed Sanctuary, figuratively and literally. Seems they have gotten on the wrong side of a gang over in the Town n' Country area through no fault of their own. They are going to stay here until they can catch their bearings. Their small enclave was destroyed by the fires set by the NRSC. Everyone got separated in the emergency evacuation and they had been travelling on their own ever since. More on them later.

Patricia is feeling a little better and even managed to drink almost 16 oz. of milk with her lunch. She let Rose and Charlene help her wash her hair and she looked vastly improved when I stopped by to check on her after the storm let up. She was still tired and frail looking but not near so much like shattered glass as she has been.

McElroy was able to fix the big tractor and used the root rake to clean up and smooth out where those last couple of houses were demolished inside Sanctuary. We thought about leaving it a green space but I honestly think it will be better used as a soybean field, at least for this coming season.

We got word from OSAG that there is going to be a multi-community Market Day in the large parking lot next to the now demolished USF Sun Dome. This time around only five of us will go … Dix, McElroy, Scott, me, and Charlene. I plan on bringing some of my seedlings to trade and maybe some produce as well depending on what we have. And I need to remember to bring those recipes and pictures of some of the local flora that Josephine drew for me so that I can give them to Shorty and Steve if they are there.

Kevin would have like to go but Mr. Morris hasn't been feeling all that chirpy. The rain we had set off his arthritis. Most days it's hard to remember that the man has to be in his late 70s at the youngest and might even be in his 80s although not even his own kids know his true age for some bizarre reason. But on others you can definitely tell he is slowing down at this stage in life. We are going to have to be careful come flu season this fall or we could lose him.

We can't let too many people go anyway or we could run short staffed for security. But even with that "problem" can be seen as a blessing in disguise. It means that we actually have something worth guarding.

So, looking at things that way we are very blessed indeed. Good family, good friends, good food, and good times. These are the things that I need to remember when times are dark. Even if this is all my life is for the remainder of my days I can draw some significant satisfaction from it. Tomorrow may be a worse day than today, but it still doesn't change the fact that today has been good.

Of course I don't foresee any problems tomorrow. I've got a boatload of work to do but that's not unusual. The girls are going to help take care of the little bit of mending there is to do, mostly socks with holes at the toes or heels. I have some gardening that needs to be done before the heat of the day gets too bad but by mid-morning I hope to get the first canning batch going.

Let's see, what food preservation do I need to do tomorrow? Squeeze and can the ponderosa lemons, candy about a quarter of the lemon peel and dry the rest of it. I've got a ton of waxed beans already so I need to get those canned and I'm going to make a big batch of Greek beans to go with lunch tomorrow. I've got nearly a bushel of carrots I need to do something with. Some tomatoes of course though probably only a smaller batch because they are just now coming in and everyone wants them fresh. I have celery that I need to dehydrate and some cauliflower that I need to pickle. Then there is the cabbage which I think Betty said she has a recipe for making sauerkraut with. More beets of course and some of the hot peppers that should be ready for picking tomorrow. Ugh. Maybe the girls won't be able to work on the mending tomorrow after all. That's a whole lotta food prep that needs to be done before we can get stuff into the canners.

I've just gotta write down my first impressions of the McKellan family. It was like meeting jovial giants, at least for me. I know I get ribbed for being short – at least when Saen isn't around – but I kid you not, these folks are tall. Dawson is every bit of 6'3" and built like I'd imagine a lumberjack is. I still give him a good 250 pounds but you can tell he's worked off some pounds somewhere along the way. He's got a booming voice that matches his size. He tries hard to moderate it but he's so jovial it gets away from him.

Dawson is just shy of his 30s but is being pulled on over by his wife Emma who claims to be 33 but doesn't look it. Dawson wears the pants in the family but Emma wears the utiliskirt. The utiliskirt she had on today looks like the kilts that Angus favors only a few inches shorter. They look even shorter when you catch of glimpse of all the leg that Emma has on her 5'8" frame. Emma is on the slender side for her height but still looks healthy. Once Patricia has the baby and is back to herself she and Emma could start a New Amazon movement.

Emma and Dawson are both good natured, at least from what I saw today. I wouldn't call them jolly but they might have been if times were better. They've got a serious side too. I wouldn't want to cross either of them; you don't survive on your own like they have been without having some steel in your backbone.

Michael, Emma's son from a previous marriage, is different from them. Oh he's tall all right – every bit of six foot. And I at first mistook his age because he's already cultivating a think beard. However he is just sixteen and reminds me a bit of James. A little more withdrawn maybe, not quite sure what to make of us. Certainly he's leery after all he's been through and then catching us in the middle of our own changes. He's most definitely a male adolescent buts it's likely a condition he'll survive and outgrow as time goes along. Good kid, just a little inside himself; maybe a natural loner, we'll have to see.

They decided to sleep in their RV tonight even though we offered them the use of one of the houses. I think they were just wanting to pull themselves together until they decide what they make of us. Don't blame them. Dix told the Wall guards to keep an eye on them but we don't really expect any trouble. Ski spent a couple of hours patching the three of them up. They'd been in a tussle with that gang that runs around calling themselves the "ZK Kings."

The ZKKs have been making a name for themselves. OSAG had a run in with them and didn't have anything good to say about them, but nothing really bad either as the ZKKers backed off when they saw how well armed Steve's group goes. Dix things the gang are is who scavenged all up and down S. Dale Mabry Hwy. The gang must have scavenged out everything they found useful and have now moved into Town N' Country. Their name is pretty stupid … or at least fairly adolescent in my opinion. ZKK stands for "zombie killer kings."

The ZKKers have had a couple of turf wars with smaller groups. They either ran them off or absorbed them. Dawson said the ones they met were pretty touchy about things and seemed to constantly be looking for a fight over even the most trivial situation. Sounds like they are hiding a lack of self-confidence to me, like they are afraid all the time so they have to keep proving themselves bigger and badder every chance they get. Not a good combination. Hopefully they'll stick to their "turf" and leave use to ours. We've got enough on our plate without having to deal with a group like that. Blood will get spilled and while it will be mainly theirs, that still opens a chance for some of ours to be spilled as well.

I've written quite a bit tonight. I need to go to sleep but sleep still eludes me. Aldea and the changes that is bringing is part of it but there were bits of news today that is keeping me us as well.

It's official. Our beloved country is once again in the grip of a civil war, but one unlike any that has come before. The US Military are holding the high ground and sitting all the battles out, at least so far. This war is on the civilian level.

From what I've been able to understand, and really these are just rumors passed along via Steve's contacts, the POTUS is dead several times over. The duly-elected-by-the-people POTUS was killed in a plane crash during the mass evacuation of the government from Washington, DC. The VPOTUS disappeared before the evacuation even began during a mob assault on the US Naval Observatory and the elected POTUS did not have time to appointment a new one before his death.

With both the POTUS and the VPOTUS dead or almost assuredly compromised due to NRS the position would have been handed down to Speaker of the House and then the President Pro Tempore of the Senate; unfortunately neither one of them were recovered during the evacuation so they are considered compromised as well. US Secretary of State is next in line and had been expected to be a shoe in for the presidential confirmation but it never occurred. The SoS was "acting president" but never POTUS in fact. Last week there was a terrorist attack against the NRSC headquarters in Colorado Springs and several people were killed including the SoS or "acting president", the acting Secretary of the Treasury (who was a NRSC board member), the US Attorney General (who was also a NRSC board member), and the US Secretary of the Interior.

Add to this fact that the following US Secretaries were never recovered, have died, or who have been declared unfit since the Federal government's move from DC to their so-called undisclosed location: Agriculture (dead), Commerce (dead), Labor (infected), Housing and Urban Development (declared unfit), Transportation (missing), Energy (declared unfit), and Education (dead). The only ones known to be remaining in legitimate line for the position of POTUS are the Secretary of Defense, Secretary of Health and Human Services, Secretary of Veterans Affairs, and Secretary of Homeland Security.

The Secretary of Defense is under protection of the US military but is not a natural-born US citizen and that disqualifies him for the post of POTUS. The Secretary of Veterans Affairs, also under the protection of the US Military, was a recent post by the pre-NRS Administration and has stated that he will not serve as the POTUS.

That leaves the Secretary of Health and Human Services and the Secretary of Homeland Security, neither of whom had a good working relationship with the Pentagon. There is some doubt as to whether the Secretary of Health and Human Services is a natural born US citizen but the evidence is available at this time or is being withheld by her supporters. The Secretary of Homeland Security has sided with the NRSC and is being proclaimed the only valid contender for POTUS.

The problem is that many of these moves are being accomplished during a time when the US Constitution may or may not have been suspended. That's another legal question being broadly debated.

The US Military (all branches) have backed the Constitutional Movement but won't bear arms against their fellow citizens without first being attacked. That's currently a stalemate and the other opponents in the civil conflict are doing their best to avoid forcing the US Military to intervene. Everyone backed down when the military took (re-took?) the US's nuclear arsenal as well as when they took control, physically and administratively of all the viable bases remaining in the Continental US.

The military also holds most of the viable coastal ports, especially in the areas of the fuel refineries and they've either shut down or provide support to all of the off-shore oil platforms within US territories as well as some in international waters that they hold in partnership with foreign militaries and/or security forces.

In addition to all of the US nuclear arsenal and facilities, the US military holds the majority of all of the heavy-duty conventional weaponry. The US Navy and US Coast Guard still hold 99% of all warships. The USAF holds all but one long range bomber and 75% of the remaining military air fleet. They hold about 40% of the civilian air fleets. But, since the US military hold most of the fuel what ships and aircraft that they don't hold are of limited use except in suicide runs of which there have been a few.

The thing is that it doesn't take WMDs to make war. All it really takes is two opposing sides and warm bodies to throw at each other. The current battles include a lot of guerilla warfare and a lot of terrorist type activities. The battle lines are terribly cloudy and of rarely firm delineation. And the so-called "armies" are primarily small skirmish groups as opposed to large, organized platoons or the like.

We are getting a little spill over into the Quarantine Zones but usually because people in the Quarantine Zone will to cross lines to invade the Safe Zones. Things are getting totally crazy if they weren't already.

For now I don't think we need to be too concerned with battles coming our way. We've had only limited contact with those claiming to be the US military and all of it neutral or good. We do have MacDill AFB on the other side of the county but anyone with any sense would know that base was cleaned out royally by TPTB at the time, at least I hope all of that stuff was hauled away by the military and not by the NRSC. Lordy, what a thought. Of course, MacDill's value didn't just lie in what they had but in its location. Now that might be a problem for us down the road except it sounds like the military is keeping its finger in the pie around here. Oh who knows?! It makes my head hurt but Scott, James, and David could talk about that stuff 24/7.

As much as the civil war engulfing our country tears me up what is of a more immediate concern is that I overheard Dix and Ski talking about how the cholera epidemic that was over in Texas appears to have made a jump to our south. Well south of us down in a coastal community called Marco Island but still, this is nothing to fool around with. There have been seven major cholera pandemics since the beginning of the 1800s through the 1970s. They even had a cholera outbreak in South America in the 1990s. Haiti lost several thousand to a cholera epidemic caused by humanitarian aid from the UN if you can believe the irony of that. Cholera used to kill millions of people a year when at its peak. There was an outbreak in Iraq in 2007 that killed about two dozen people but better medical treatment helped to lower the case fatality rate. Without the advanced medical mitigation and treatment cholera could go right back to killing thousands upon thousands of people. We already went through a battle with dysentery and that was bad enough.

After listening to Dix and Ski I talked to Scott who approached the two men … neither one of who seemed to be surprised that I had something to say on the subject … with a couple of suggestions. First, no one gets passed the gates. The McKellans will probably be the last "strangers" that come right in without an intermediate quarantine. All trade goods also have to go through a quarantine of sorts whether that is an additional cleaning or being put into a shed outside the living areas, or whatever needs to be devised. And, anytime we go out we'll come through the two gates and stop for a little disinfecting before entering the main compound. Two, our water treatment is pretty stringent but we are going to tighten up our protocols and make sure the kids are reminded of the step-by-step process. That particular problem is how the men wound up with dysentery in the first place. Three, waste disposal and treatment is going to be that much more important. We won't have as much humanure with the Aldea group gone but there will still be enough to deal with. I set the compost piles up well outside of any potential run off areas out in the orange grove; we just need to maintain how careful we are. We can go a little crazier if any epidemic gets closer to us but for now, just tightening up what we already do should be sufficient.

For now I guess I really do need to put away my worries for the night and go to bed. Tomorrow promises to be a long and tiring day.


	187. Day 233

**Day 233 (Wednesday) – March 21**

Hmm. I was so busy yesterday I didn't know whether I was coming or going. I'm still jittery from it today. It doesn't help that today was nearly as bad as yesterday and tomorrow looks to be about the same. Now I know why so many pioneers' wives tended to die young. If childbirth didn't get them the back breaking labor of trying to feed, clothe, and protect their families did.

I'm no June Cleaver. I'm pretty comfortable with that "lived in look" you get when you have kids and a busy life. But I do like my chaos to be a little on the organized side and I was just nearly ready to scream after a while. Every time I turn around I'm getting pulled in several different directions at once.

Yesterday I helped prep and can an unbelievable amount of food. I would have liked to have dehydrated some of it but it's been raining off and on often enough to make that impractical. We've gone from below record rainfall to well above average rainfall for this time of year. The rain and humidity may be a problem this summer as well. It's a good thing we have so many solar panels dumping power to our batteries because our energy collection is way down again. This rain is really great for the garden and surviving fruit trees but it can be a pain as well.

Let's see, what have we canned over the last two days? From the carrots we are getting regular canned carrots and canned baby carrots, regular and spiced carrot jam, carrot marmalade, carrot jelly, carrot relish, and pickled carrots. I canned a lot of mustard greens. Not everyone will eat them but that's OK, when they get hungry enough they'll be happy to have them. I canned eggplant both in the regular and pickled variety. Not much, not even I want to eat much of that. I just wonder why it is always the stuff your family doesn't eat much of that seems to thrive the best? Let's see and from the cabbage I made pickled cabbage, Betty started a batch of sauerkraut, and Reba did her prize-winning cabbage chow chow. We canned more beets with similar recipes that we did the other day plus we started two gallon jugs of pickled eggs that used the left over beet pickle juice. We should be able to try the first ones in two or three days.

Boy howdy. Part of the problem appears that either our garden is going gang busters good, we've underestimated the amount of work to prep and preserve enough food for our community to last year round, or I just don't seem to have the hang of planting the garden yet. All I know is that we already are getting tomatoes coming out the nose. The following is a list of things we are working on: green tomato pickles, tomato puree, tomato juice, tomato sauce, tomato paste, tomato conserve, spicy tomato butter, tomato relish, tomato jam, tomato preserves, hot sauce, BBQ sauce, tomato soup and my beloved salsa. Mr. Morris has started a batch of red tomato wine and a batch of green tomato wine. It sounds disgusting but the Morris family swears it is wonderful.

As a matter of fact Mr. Morris has a bunch of batches of different wines running right now. I know he's got carrot wine and beet wine going; and he also has a batch of cabbage wine making. He's got a small batch of carrot whisky fermenting too. In fact there isn't a fruit or vegetable that we've got that he isn't trying to make a batch of some kind of liquor with. It explains all the bottles and corks Kevin has been collecting for him. Lord only knows what we will do with it all but it keeps Mr. Morris happy and gives the men something to talk about besides bullets and the eventual lack of bullets.

Preserving the harvest is an incredible amount of work. I had the tweens doing as much of the cleaning and chopping as I could since I don't trust the littles with knives that sharp. The littles helped by measuring, toting, and keep the water buckets and wood box full. The teens helped with cooking and keeping any eye on the pressure canner. Some of the folks from Aldea want to come by and help but preserving can't wait and they need to finish getting their compound completely ready. They are taking some animals over tomorrow which will greatly increase their work load.

Aldea got two rice fields (paddies?) planted today from what I hear and they have plans to plant one more. I hope they do as well with the rice as we are doing with the sugar cane. Between those two and a corn crop we should have another year completely in the bag with no worries – barring hurricanes, bugs, rodents, raiders, infecteds, and other sundry things that we have no or only limited control over.

We have a blessing from all of the work that I hadn't really given much thought to. We had enough food scraps to feed the animals and the compost pile both. We just dumped the best of the scraps into pails and then took them out to the pens and this made for relatively easy clean up. The stuff that the animals would only pick at and not really eat I had the littles haul in a wagon over to the compost pile and someone helped them to feed the piles that needed something green.

I do miss my automatic dishwasher. It sure made prepping jars a whole lot easier. It took less water as well and the jars stayed hotter longer if I left them on the heated dry cycle. Now I can only prep as many jars at a time as I'll be using for each batch.

Around the middle of yesterday morning is when things started going all cally-whampus on me. Brandon came by a little bent out of shape. Now that he has the library and Sanctuary record room pretty much set up and running he has been helping by going through some of the storage containers. We are still trying to get them reorganized from where we renovated the Wall and some of those containers weren't that well organized to begin with. He had been pulling together some things that Aldea had requested when he found several tubs of loose alkaline and rechargeable batteries.

I vaguely recalled those containers. We were taking all the batteries out of all the toys, smoke detectors, and electronics we came across and just tossing them in there until we could go through them and find out which ones were good and which ones were. The battery testers were still taped to the inside of the tub lids.

Now, due to the heat I guess, some of the batteries had exploded or leaked. To prevent further loss and to extend battery life I had to stop what I was doing and make room in the Cooler. I was able to fit the tubs on the bottom shelf and the corner. Brandon asked if the littles could test the batteries.

I set them up that evening (with gloves of course) and Bekah was the team leader. Good or "green light" batteries go in one container. Weak or "yellow light" batteries go in another container. The bad or "red light" batteries go into yet another container. An adult or teen will go through the "bad" batteries one more time before we haul them off to our toxic waste site that is a few miles from here. We have surprising little that actually has to be taken to that location because we are using, re-using, or re-purposing nearly everything we can.

I was back and forth like that all day long. I'd get so far and then I'd have t stop and go do something else. It got so bad that Betty, Reba, and I threatened to have folks take a number just so we could finish something. Breakfast, preserving, batteries, preserving, lunch, preserving, wasp stings (James), preserving, foot stepped on by one of the mules (Samuel), preserving, guard duty, preserving ….

The whole flaming day was like that. Betty, Reba, and I didn't get in bed until late last night and I was just too tired to write in this journal. We finished the last batches out of the canners at 10:30 pm by tiki torchlight. And today hasn't been much better.

My hands were sore this morning and it was hard to drag my sorry butt out of bed but it had to be done. Have you ever had a kid tap you on the forehead at four in the morning asking if it is breakfast time yet? Bubby and Sis would eat all day long if we let him. Johnnie wants to graze like that too but not quite as badly. All the kids seem to be hungry all the time. I don't know if this is still a holdover from pre-NRS days, a reaction to all the life changes we've been through, or if they are hungry because they are working and growing so much.

Let's just say when I went to check on what had gotten ripe overnight I could have killed me a couple of dogs. I knew the puppies had been chasing each other around and driving the cats nuts but when I went out and found that their escapades had knocked over and trampled two of my big tomato plants I could have rung ears and tails.

Don't get me wrong, I love the little critters to pieces but they are getting to the unruly stage and it's like having five more two year olds under foot. Only these two year olds have paws that they haven't grown into yet and are turning into a real menace. Even mischief has nipped them a time or two for getting too rough and frisky and day before yesterday Mayhem nearly took a chunk out of one of them for snarling and snapping at him. Mayhem is head dog and even Butch and Sundance bow down to him.

Angus took three of the pups and has now installed them at Aldea to get their pack started. Bekah's puppy follows her everywhere and won't let her out of sight more than a few minutes. Sarah's Pup adores the little puppy and will now go outside and is a lot braver. It was the funniest thing. A grasshopper startled the puppy last week and Pup … who is about as far from being brave as a dog can get … decided that the grasshopper was some kind of monster and got all stiff legged and started growling at it. We all just kind of looked at Pup because we'd never heard her make such a noise much less act so brave. That grasshopper was not going to get her puppy I guess. Honestly though, animals do bring a lot of fun into the lives of us humans … but I warned Angus and everyone else if I caught any of them turning up any more of my plants someone's tail was gonna get bobbed; the dog or the dog's handler.

Well, I wasn't going to cry over it. That would have just made Scott mad and he's had his fair share of problems with the puppies lately. If they weren't so dang smart it wouldn't be a problem but if you don't latch everything they'll get into it. He didn't latch his tool box all the way and they pulled out and chewed on the handles of some of his tools. He was fit to be tied.

So instead of saying much more I just decided to do what I could and salvage the green tomatoes that were on the vine. I took a couple of the biggest fruits and made fried green tomatoes with country gravy to go with lunch. For dinner I made curried green tomatoes to go with white rice and some stir fried chicken. One of the chickens was getting so mean that it flew at Sarah's face when they were out getting eggs. Reba grabbed it and rung its neck right there. That leaves us down a hen but this hen crowed and did give off but one or two eggs a week so it's no great loss. I remember my grandmother saying, "A whistling woman, and a crowing hen, will always come, to some bad end." I guess that's one of the reasons why I hum rather than whistle while I work. Lord, I hadn't thought of that in forever.

I still had two five gallon buckets of green tomatoes though that needed something done with them so I pulled out my handy dandy recipe file. We made (and canned) green tomato jam, sweet green tomato pickle, green tomato chutney, green tomato mincemeat, and gingered green tomatoes.

I also started losing one of my cherry tomatoes for some reason. I guess something must have got to its roots as it didn't have any best or fungus that I could tell. With all the little green cherry tomatoes we made green tomato dill pickles.

I've just about run out of candied fruit to chop up and throw into fruit cakes so I took four of the remaining tomatoes and candied them. Actually I had Charlene do this while I took Johnnie, Bubby, Al, and Trent over to the Clinic. They had gotten into the same dat burn wasp nest that James had run into yesterday; each boy must have had a dozen stings a piece. I swear those boys would poke a bull gator just to see what it would do.

Johnnie is the oldest and getting passed the point where he should be allowed to get away with stupid stuff. I hated to do it but I swiped his butt good. He blamed Bubby, which in all honesty I don't doubt, but the point is he is the oldest in that bunch and I expect him to start behaving more responsibly, even if that means that he has to tattle or stand up to Bubby more. I used to think Johnnie was going to be the biggest trouble maker around but Bubby is running him a real close second. I made sure that Sis saw me pop Johnnie's behind too just so she wouldn't go imitating them like she normally does. Those kids are going to have a wake-up call when school starts in about a little over a week, especially if I have to get Scott to put his boot down.

Once we had made up all the canning recipes made up from the green tomatoes I put them rest of them into the Cooler. Tomorrow I'll make a green tomato pie and green tomato gravy to put over a gazelle roast we plan on making.

While all of this was going on we took turns "resting" by stringing and snapping green beans. My grandfather loved to sit on the porch and snap beans just watching his farm. That was down time for him. My mom, his daughter, really liked snapping beans too. I used to be kind of so-so about it but the older I got the more I enjoyed it. Sarah and Bekah take after my mom; they absolutely love snapping beans. Especially Sarah; she's been doing it since she was just three years old. You couldn't get that child to sit still for love or money, but put her on the kitchen floor with a pan of beans and she'd snap them for an hour or two at a time with no problem. I watched her fall asleep in a big pan of beans once when she was four. We recorded it; and then when Scott picked up her and tried to lay her down she cried because we were taking her pan of beans away.

My head is so full of memories. I love it that I have these types of happy memories with my family when so many people don't but on some days it makes me physically ill to remember that all of those people are gone. Most of my older family members have been dead since Rose and James were babies if not earlier but some were still up in Kentucky and Tennessee. I doubt I'll ever seen any more of my kin again. I don't even know what happened to my brother or nephews, how the heck am I supposed to find out about my extended family?!

Ugh. Let's not go down that track. Anyway in addition to the quarts upon quarts of green beans that we are canning we canned some Dilly Beans, and Green Beans Oregano. We are going to have a bumper crop of green beans I think. If you pick them daily the bean plants tend to make more beans and will produce longer as well.

One of my "breaks" from getting any work done was when I had to tend to Rose. She's always had sensitive skin. I guess she got that from my mom who had problems with dry skin and who couldn't where anything but 14K gold or better jewelry. Somewhere along the way, possibly when she and Melody were picking some mysore raspberries for a cobbler the other night, Rose got up close and personal with some poison ivy. Her right arm is all enflamed and I know she is trying not to scratch it because it hurts so badly.

Waleski wanted to know if I had any "natural remedies" for poison ivy because the enflamed area wasn't getting any better. The medicated stuff that he had dried her skin out so much that it cracked and the hypoallergenic anti-itch stuff wasn't strong enough. For some reason a family vacation to Minnesota brought up what my aunt did for me after I was nearly carried away by the no-seeums that week by the lake. I mixed two cups of milk with two cups of crushed ice and then added two tablespoons of salt. I soaked a bit of cheese cloth in the liquid and then laid it over the enflamed area. The cold and the salt stung at first but she said at dinner she is finally getting some relief.

Found the remedy just in time too because the ones that came back from Aldea says almost all the kids have at least a patch or two somewhere on their body. Bet they'll work faster now to get those port-o-potties set up and anyone reading this can imagine why. Ugh.

Tomorrow they'll truck back the remainder of the food that we've been setting aside for them and they brought us back some sunfish that had been caught that day in the Hillsborough River and they were even cleaned and iced down. Glenn didn't waste any time setting up their own Cooler over at Aldea. I took the fish and put it in the coldest part of our Cooler (the part that freezes). If we hadn't already started marinating the gazelle roast we would have made the fish the main meal tomorrow. We agreed to save them for Friday.

Tomorrow some of the men are going over to Aldea to make up a hunt. Mr. McKellen and his step son are going as well. I guess they are going to see about heading over to Busch Gardens or Lowry Park to see if they can bag some meat and possibly bring back a couple of more swine to keep for our domestic heard.

After the hive of zombies and the NRSC got through with this area, hunting has really become a challenge. We've still got some squirrels but not nearly as many as I had been battling. We've got domesticated rabbits but I haven't seen a wild one outside of Sanctuary's Wall in a while. Some of that may be due to the heavy equipment we were using to clear a perimeter; we now have nearly 200 yards cleared completely except for a few areas that have natural barriers already (like more ponds and canals and a few large oaks that escape major damage or fire).

I'm glad we did all of that meat gathering as Noah's Parade went by but that won't last forever and I really hate to cull our domesticate animals any further given that we've just split them with Aldea. The radio has let us know that hunting has thinned out in a lot of places and that some of the larger predators are now back to preying on domestic animals and man. If the run to the city doesn't returns no gains then the next thing would be to head north, in the same direction that the animals were heading to get away from the hive and the fire.

Betty and Reba said that they should be able to handle most of the preserving tomorrow which is a good thing because I've got a double shift on the Wall tomorrow … two on, two off, then two on again. This time I'll remember to bring an extra notepad in case I run out of paper. There's nothing worse than thinking of something important you need to write down and then not having anything to write it on or with, or running out of either before you've finished getting your thought down.


	188. Day 234

**Day 234 (Thursday) – March 22**

The hunt was a bust. Either other people began considering Lowry and Busch for food too … we couldn't possibly have been the only people to think about it … or the animals have strayed so far beyond the boundaries of the zoos/parks that they have no reason to return. There are obviously no humans to continue feeding them and likely they've used up most of what would have been considered real habitat/free food that they could get to. I know Scott said the bags of feed were pretty well wiped out or rodent infested in the barn areas. Ick.

Next move is going to try hunting to the north of our position. The fire cut a huge swathe running SE to WNW but some all-terrain vehicles should be able to traverse the twisted rubble and debris and come out the other side. I'd like to know how the group that was forming up in Brooksville has done. We'll just have to be careful; a lot of communities are getting territorial as the easily obtainable supplies are becoming scarce.

Just to be on the safe side here in Sanctuary we are going to start limiting meat to one or two meals per day. There really is no need to have meat at every meal. Not nutritionally anyway. Psychologically in the beginning it kind of gave us some comfort and a certain amount of security; there wasn't any real rationing as we've always been able to make do or substitute. And the other women and I … and Emma is starting to fit into this group … discussed how to ration the meat without the appearance of rationing and I think we have a pretty good game plan. And, if anyone asks we'll just say we need to use as much fresh from the garden as we can while we have it.

One of the ways we'll pull this off is by using other protein sources. We'll definitely utilize the fish ponds more as the fish begin to reproduce. David brought back more fish to stock our ponds with today but we'll want to utilize more than just our ponds or we'll quickly destroy the resident populations.

I still have some canned seafood … shrimp, crab, salmon, lobster, etc. … but it would be nice to trade for more or even go crabbing ourselves but that has its own problems. All of those NRS-infected zombies that would walk into the ocean, how do we know that they haven't infected the fish and shellfish that would feed off of the corpses. Most seafood species are scavengers to one degree or another and feeding on corpses is a part of the sea's natural life cycle; gives me the heebie jeebies to think about it. Ugh. We could go with turtles and gators but there again, you run into the question of whether they've been exposed to NRS infected corpses as part of their diet.

I much prefer the idea of "farmed" protein sources. With domestic meat not really an option until our herd has built its population back up I think we'll have to fall back on other protein sources like eggs, milk, cheeses, beans, nuts, and seeds. Eggs we are getting in plenty which is nice, at least for now. We are building our flock back up but of course not all eggs are viable/fertilized for hatching. Reba knows how to check eggs so I leave that to her. We aren't getting quite as many fresh eggs, but then we don't need them as the mouths we feed at each meal have been significantly reduced. We look to even have enough eggs that we'll be able to take some pickled eggs to Market Day which has tentatively been set for next Thursday, the day after Sarah's 13th birthday.

The milk is still coming in hand over fist. We are getting five to eight gallons per dairy cow per day leaving so much that we even have some whey that we put into some of the animals' slop buckets. Not a lot because the whey is useful for making some cheeses but at least it adds a little more to the feed that then don't have to take out of the commercial feed supplies that we are desperate to save until we absolutely have to use it.

I tell you here and now the Morris family has been a Godsend for our community. I always prided myself on my self-sufficiency. And honestly we could have gotten by on what I learned as a child and the skills I acquired along the way; but, we would have missed out on a lot of stuff and it sure has been nice to be able to work with another family that has also chosen to live a self-sufficient lifestyle and to find out that their skills compliment your own. There are some things that Scott and I have down pat … some urban/suburban survival techniques and people skills and suburban homesteading with a side order of all the things we were taught as a child and the things I learned for myself as an adult. The Morris family had skills with domesticate animals that we didn't thus getting rid of a huge learning curve. They had the actual farming experience that we lacked plus Kevin and Betty travelled the Third World and gathered real experience with alternative ways of doing things. Kevin has said that they could have made a go of it on their farm but it would have been very subsistent because they didn't have access to the kind of stuff we have in an urban area. By combining their skills with ours and then manipulating our environment we've got the best of both worlds.

Oh heck, life is still far from easy. I'd frankly rather go back to the days that I could go down to the grocery and pick up anything I needed, pick up the phone and call the doctor, or call 911 when there was an emergency. Scott and I never romanticized the apocalypse. We are doing OK. Life isn't the nightmare it was a few months back but it's not what I would call a dream either.

I thought Scott and I worked hard with our business. Often six days a week, sometimes seven; always on call 24/7/365. In thirteen years there wasn't a holiday, dinner, vacation or other special occasion that wasn't interrupted by the blasted phone. Calls in the middle of the night over stupid stuff that could have waited until morning were one of the things that I hated worst. Next would have to be the kitchen fires caused more or less because people wouldn't keep their stoves and/or ovens clean. And then all the worry when a bad storm would come was magnified by each property we took care of, paying all the bills, health care, business taxes, property taxes, dealing with stupid cork brained bureaucrats who their butt from a hole in the ground and couldn't have run a business that only required pushing one button in a timely fashion, etc.. But you know what? I would go back to that if I had the chance. In a heartbeat.

These days the work is different, the worries are different, the bills coming due are different … but the consequences of not keeping up are even worse. There is no system … even a broken one … to help keep the infrastructure up and running. The only infrastructure is what we build for ourselves. There isn't anyone else to hold accountable when things don't go according to plan because practically speaking there isn't anyone else. There is no one to pay to do the big or little stuff; we either do it ourselves or it doesn't get done. All of it.

I guess why I got off track is because I'm very thankful that Reba is with us. She is such an asset to our community that I can't really begin to express my appreciation. She and her father are the ones behind the success of our flock of fowl (mainly chickens and geese) and our domesticated dairy animals. Oh, I would like to think and imagine that I would have eventually have gotten the hang of it but not without some serious trials and tribulations. And it certainly wouldn't have been easy for me to figure out how to make cheese. I know how to make queso fresco and queso blanco because of one of our tenants who taught me how to make it out of powdered milk but … well … take today for instance.

Today Reba made cheddar cheese. Soft cheeses can be very easy to make. You can make them and then eat them almost within hours. Hard cheeses are a different kettle of fish. And we also have to make our own cheese starter before we can even make the cheese.

The starter for cheddar is called mesophilic. And you know that sounded less than appealing when Reba was explaining it to me. Basically this is a culture that does not require heat to activate. We make this stuff up in batches and store it in the freezer section of the Cooler. The other type of starter is called thermophilic and requires heat to activate; however, it also requires a yogurt culture and so far that is something that has eluded us.

To make the mesophilic starter you begin with two cups of fresh cultured buttermilk. That's another thing to thank Reba for. She brought her culture of buttermilk with her and a good thing because the traditional buttermilk that is left behind after you churn butter isn't exactly what you need. We store the cultured buttermilk in the Cooler and it lasts a long time without going bad. Take two cups of cultured buttermilk out of the Cooler and l it to reach room temperature (70 F/ 21 C).

As soon as the buttermilk reaches room temp you allow it to ripen for about 6-8 hrs. The resulting buttermilk is much thicker and sour than what you started with. It should have the consistency of fresh yogurt, if it doesn't let it sit a few more hours.

We pour this culture into a full sized clean ice cube tray and put it into the freezer area of the Cooler. As with all steps of cheese making, cleanliness is next to Godliness. Reba has pounded that into our heads over and over again. The wrong type of bacteria growing in your cultures and end products can kill you or make you sick; at the very least it could cause you to waste precious resources.

Once frozen, remove the cubes and put into a CLEAN sealed container or plastic freezer bags. We label everything, especially since we have had the kids mix up ingredients … salt for sugar, sour cream for sweet cream, etc. We've had a few funny messes … and a few near disastrous ones.

The resulting ice cubes are each 1 oz of mesophilic starter. We add these cubes (thawed) to our cheese recipes as required. The cubes keep for about one month though at the rate we are making cheese we've never had any go bad. Making more starter is really simple as well. We simply thaw one cube and add into 2 cups of fresh milk. Mix thoroughly with a fork or a whisk. Allow the milk/culture to stand at room temperature (70 F/ 21 C) for 16-24 hours or until the consistency of fresh yogurt.

But we had plenty of mesophilic starter so we were able to go straight into making the cheddar. We start with 1 gallon of fresh milk that has been strained to get out any cow hairs or what have you. We warm the fresh milk to 90 degree F (32.25 C) in a double boiler. Then we whisk in one ounce of Mesophilic starter culture. We let that rest (or ripen) for one hour. Next we dissolve ¼ rennet tablet (we've collected those from all over the place and I have no idea what we'll do when they run out) into three and a half tablespoons of cool water.

Then we slowly pour the rennet into the milk stirring constantly with a whisk and continue whisking for at least five minutes. This is important because the rennet needs to be evenly distributed in the milk. Once that is accomplished we allow the milk to set for 1-2 hours until a firm curd is set and a clean break can be obtained when the curd is cut.

After the curd is set we use a long knife and cut the curds into 1/4 inch cubes. We let it rest again for another fifteen minutes to firm up. Then we slowly raise the temperature of the milk to 102 F (39 C). It should take a long time, as long as 45 minutes. During this time we gently stir the curds every few minutes so they don't re-stick together.

Once they reach the appropriate temperature we cook the curds for another 45 minutes. We have to keep stirring the curds every few minutes just like before. After the 45 minutes is up we drain the whey by pouring everything through a cheesecloth lined colander. You have to do this quickly and not allow the curds to mat.

From there we place the curds back into the double boiler at 102 F (39 C). Stir the curds to separate any particles that have gotten all stuck together. The curds naturally want to try and glue themselves back into one big mass which is the reason for the constant stirring you have to do after the curds form. At this point add a tablespoon of salt and mix thoroughly.

Cook the curds at 102 F (39 C) for one hour, stirring every few minutes. It kind of looks yucky but the end product is supposed to be worth it. After the hour is up we carefully place the curds into a cheesecloth lined mold, Reba brought some and Scott made us a few more. Scott also helped to build a cheese press from an old exercise machine. For cheddar you press the cheese at about 20 lbs. (9 kg) for 45 minutes. You remove the cheese from the press and flip it, and then press the cheese at about 40 lbs. (18 kg) for 3 hours. Then you have to remove the cheese from the press and flip it again and press the cheese at about 50 lbs. (22.75 kg) for 24 hours.

You are done pressing the cheese at that point. Next you remove the cheese from the press. Place the cheese on a cheese board and dry at room temperature for 3-5 days, until the cheese is dry to the touch. We do this in the least cool part of the Cooler. It's not exactly refrigerated but then again it's not room temperature either. It's kind of like the crisper section and is also were we keep salad greens.

After the outside of the cheese has dried you can wax it and age it in a refrigerated area for 3-24 months. The longer the cheese is aged the sharper the flavor it will develop. Be sure to flip the cheese every few days. We've got so many cheese wheels of various flavors that Glenn and some of the guys from Aldea are coming over and they are going to help us put together another "room" on the Cooler. I can see a real market for this sort of thing. Certainly I'm not the only one chomping at the bit for the first cheddar to be ready for eating.

The only thing is this cheddar is more like a white Wisconsin rather than the traditional bright orange cheddar that used to be available in the grocery store. Reba said the orange was an artificial color from annatto or paprika oil; all traditional cheddars are off-white like what we make.

Between cheese making and guard duty I had to sew some of Scott's "tidy whities." The elastic is going in a couple pair of them already. He hates boxers but he may have no choice when all of his other ones give out. It'll be either that or going commando and he says he'd no more do that than I would go willingly bra-less for any length of time. I've still got some new packages of undies tucked away so I'll leave that worry for the future but I have to admit that I've already lost a couple of bras to weight loss and because the hook and eyes have broken. Who would have thought that basic survival could be influenced by comfortable underwear?

The other thing I did was go over the gardens and pick everything that was ripe. It feels like we have so much. The Cooler is full but we need to continue to preserve things as much as possible. Scott called over to Aldea and we are going to trade labor to get a fire driven drying oven built. They'll come to Aldea on Saturday and then Scott will go to Aldea on Sunday and help them build one there. Hopefully I'll get to ride shotgun and attend the church service that Steve's son puts on nearly every Rest Day barring zombies and rising flood waters. Both have been scarce the last week or so and I hope to have Scott convinced to let me go before Sunday. I want to take some milk and cream over to Shorty and get her perspective on what this Market Day is really going to be like. Men are great to have around I fully admit but sometimes they miss the nuances that women can sense.

Dix reported a couple of interesting pieces of information tonight that he heard on the radio. Seems we have a travelling medic out and about. Single male with no apparent alliances, just stopping here and there offering aide as he is able to give it. He's described as dark and Hispanic; no name yet, just reports of hearing about him. At the moment the medic appears to be traveling with some German guy. No other info at the moment but Dix plans on keeping tabs on any further reports of these two strangers to the area.

The other thing he brought up was that the ZKK apparently will be attending Market Day next week. Everyone attending Market Day has agreed to keep hostilities under control but we are concerned that they may be casing various groups to see strength of numbers and what kind of stuff we have. I could see Scott opening his mouth to nix me going when Dix said that he was glad that I was going so that I could do that "gossip gathering" thing I do.

I didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted so I just gave my "Mother Hen" look and he said, "That's it. Be that. You'll knock 'em on their ass and leave 'em not knowing which end is up the way you do us."

Of course all the guys had a good laugh at that, even Scott. But I was also summarily told that James would be my body guard for the duration of Market Day and I wasn't allowed to get more than a few steps away from his sight. Imagine how I felt to know that I was going to be babysat by my own 16 year old son. I could have pinched the smirk right off his behind. And Scott had to add insult to injury and remind me in hearing of anyone else that he'd glue the pistol to my hand if he had to. Men. There are days you can't live with them and then there are the days you'd like to flatten their heads with a cast iron skillet. Besides, there isn't a thing wrong with my machete.


	189. Day 235

_**Aut** **hor's Note:** Thought I would take a moment to answer a couple of questions that have come my way. Sissy and Scott are in their mid 40's ... basic parental unit materials. LOL. It's been mentioned and talked around in the story a few times but Sissy is practical and doesn't moan and groan about it ad nauseum. To her it is simply a fact of her life though she feels older than she thinks they should on a lot of mornings when she has to get up and start her day all over again._

 _Birth control. What you have to remember is that even before NRS caused many areas to be quarantined it was already affecting supply lines. People were restricted to their homes. Deliveries weren't being made. If you are stuck at home in a high stress situation you've got limited recreational options and since nature abhors a vacuum you can guess what a lot of them were doing more of. Next, Sanctuary haven't been the only salvagers in the area. It wouldn't take a large group to make a dent in any supplies that were left in the beginning. And speaking of time, our characters are well beyond the 6-months mark. Say you have five active couples that have sex a couple of times per week ... that's 10 to 20 condoms per week times 33 weeks ... that's 330 to 660 condoms at a bare minimum. Sure fatigue and such might moderate it but then again boys and girls will be boys and girls. And in addition to other salvagers the fires did destroy some potentially ... er ... fruitful salvage potential. Then you have the issue that the only truly problematic pregnancies are those by the very young members of the group and they were less likely to have birth control or use it. As for the uni-campus where OSAG is, well Sanctuary doesn't know what supplies they have so it is very possible that there were cases upon cases of the things in the university medical services offices. We also don't know what their supply level was at the time of area shut down. Probably why no one has heard of a pregnancy in the OSAG group ... or they could just be super secretive, only time will tell._

 _Aldea. You have a large group of alpha personalities and there could be problems. You're certainly going to have a thirst for adventure even under the circumstances our characters find themselves. That man alpha males are not just going to be able to sit around tatting lace, they are going to want to find the challenges, be creative, locate their own opportunities to be THE alpha or at least showcase their own talents. Luckily for Sanctuary/Aldea that their group of alphas have brains as well as brawn. But such a group will face their challenges as the future takes shape._

 _Salvaging. In many areas there simply isn't anything more worth the time and effort of salvaging. Our characters are going to have to get creative and go further afield as well. But you have to balance time and effort expended with return on that type of investment, especially given how dangerous the quarantine zones remain ... raiders, other survivor groups, illnesses they could potentially bring back, lack of fuel, and not the least of which is that there are still NRS infecteds out there though for now they only have to deal with small numbers of shamblers. They've discovered that changes ... nearly with the tide. And strange and horrible things ARE coming down the road._

 _The pace of the story and why we don't hear about the Infecteds every journal entry. Well, to a certain extent that is because the NRS Infecteds are "part of the daily landscape." Only unusual ones or larger than expected groupings are mentioned outright, but that doesn't mean that there aren't any. Sanctuary's walls and gate system keep them out ... at least for now ... so only the groups outside the wall have to deal with them directly but they haven't gone away. Will that remain true? Will Sanctuary once more come under siege? Given history itself as an indicator - both in the story and real history of castles and walled cities - the likelihood of that is almost 100%._

 _If you have any other questions, ask away. I may not be able to answer them right away ... especially if answering them might give away upcoming events ... but I'll do my best without spoiling things._

 _Now back to your story ..._

* * *

 **Day 235 (Friday) – March 23 – Cleaning Day**

Now I feel bad about being so grumpy at Scott last night. He's been sick off and on all day. Ski said it is his Diverticula acting up again. I've been pretty careful about what I've been cooking; making sure that there was enough choices that everyone could avoid foods that cause allergies or tummy troubles. In Scott's case he isn't allowed … well, isn't supposed to … eat nuts, corn, strawberries or blackberries that haven't had the seeds drained from them, sesame seeds, sunflower seeds, etc. He's really not supposed to eat popcorn either but he does and it doesn't normally bother him. Guess it's time to pull out the fiber tablets again and to make sure he eats a cup of oatmeal every morning for breakfast. I just hope this doesn't get any worse. He's never actually gotten it bad enough to have diverticulitis and I pray it doesn't go that way this time. That requires medication to take care of the infection. Medication we don't have. And the doctors that initially diagnosed him a couple of years ago warned that an untreated infection, or one that the medication doesn't work on, could very easily lead to surgery. Just thinking about it scares me to death. We don't have that kind of capacity ... a bowel something or other ... it meant they would cut him open and remove a section of his intestines. Please oh please or please, don't let it get that bad. Ever.

I hope Scott feels better tomorrow because he, Dawson and David and maybe Dix are going over to Aldea to help them build their big drying oven. Sunday they'll send some people our way and pick up their share of the produce at the same time. All Scott needs to do is pull something or irritate his guts even more. Last thing he needs is a hernia on top of everything else. That's one of the reasons I'm glad that David is going. He can help Scott without Scott getting defensive about it. Scott is so incredibly strong but there are just some things that he doesn't need to be doing by himself any more when there are younger men around to help out.

Speaking of needing younger help I've been so thankful for Sarah and Charlene's help over this past week. Rose has done her fair share as well but Charlene and Sarah honestly get into it more. Rose does gardening and food preservation because she has to; Sarah and Charlene do it because they like it.

Picked our first cucumbers today but they aren't really the pickling kind. One variety is an Armenian cucumber and the other is a small, white cucumber. The Armenian cucumber looks like a cucumber and even tastes like a cucumber but it is actually a variety of melon. They are supposed to be able to grow up to 36 inches in length and get all twisty like a snake but my garden books says they are at the top of their flavor when they are between 12 and 15 inches long. I've got them growing on a trellis so they are long and straight and take up less room.

The small white cucumbers aren't bitter like some of the white cucumbers have been that I've tried. That's why I was so happy to find an heirloom variety of this miniature. The fruit is ready to pick at three inches. They are kind of roundish even at that size and bumpy like a pickle though we've only ever used them raw, in salads. I'm going to have a ton of these little suckers so I might try pickling some. Good thing I stocked all that pickling lime and that we were able to "gather" so much more before it all disappeared in the Big Fire and all the other catastrophes we've been facing. No lime, no lime pickles. There are other ways to make pickles but it's more like making sauerkraut than making pickles like I grew up with. We'll likely have to go that route eventually but for now I'm happy to have what I have.

We also picked a mess of collards today. I cooked a big batch up for dinner and we had collards and cornbread with a little bit of bacon thrown in. I saved the liquor off of the greens (the juice for you folks in the future that don't know what I'm talking about) and tomorrow I'm going to make a nice green soup as a first course for lunch. Greens are very high in vitamins and really healthy.

For lunch today I fixed lentils over rice. Lentils have a lot of fiber to them, something like 15 grams of fiber per cup of cooked beans. Scott tolerates lentils but only if I season them up pretty good. Sunday when the Aldea folks come by I'm going to fix up a really big batch of chili. Their women may not be too happy with me come night time but kidney beans have nearly as much fiber as lentils do and my focus is on Scott's health right now and not other people's sensibilities and olfactory reactions. Besides, I've got a lot of canned and dried beans that I need to get into the rotation schedule before all my bush beans are ready for drying and processing. I don't want to count our chickens before they are hatched but now that the rain is back we've got almost more garden and incoming produce than we can handle even including the portion for Aldea.

I've only got a few days until Sarah's birthday. Turning thirteen is a big deal. I always promised the girls that when they turned thirteen they could start wearing makeup but I don't really have much to give her. It wasn't exactly a priority in the beginning. I've got some homemade recipes for organic cosmetics that I can make if I can have some help keeping Sarah off and busy for a few hours. I know how to take beet juice and make red lip gloss with it. I can make flavored lip balm using flavored food extracts. I can also make body cream, lotion, skin cleanser and toner.

I'm not the only one thinking about gifts. Rose is making Sarah a fancy journal that she can keep her animal notes in. Bekah is making and decorating a couple of large bandanas to go over Sarah's long hair; two for everyday wear and one for special occasions. Scott made her a flower and leaf press. Charlene is helping the littles cut out pictures of animals from old magazines and glue them onto cards that they can decorate and give her. I have no idea what James is doing, he won't say. Of all the kids those are the two that brangle the most over stuff the least worth it. He'd lay down his life for his younger sister but you couldn't get him to admit it for love or money. I've just about given up on making them behave with one another; I just hope they live to outgrow it.

I was happy to get the house cleaned from top to bottom today. I took the time to refresh or replace all of my bug and critter repellents. So far we haven't had more than a stray bug or two each week but I'm finding more and more over in the food storehouse. I hate to ask Scott to do one more thing but he's the one that knows about the bug chemicals we still have left and which will work best under what circumstances without contaminating the food itself. I already went around dobbing the roach gel in all the more obvious locations. Hopefully that will take care of things and we don't wind up with a major infestation though they say if you see one roach you can bet there are ten times that many that you haven't seen. Yuck. I'm not sure what we'll do when we run out of bug killer; I guess I need to pull out my books and start looking.

So much for young love. Brandon and Josephine had a major dog fight today. Josephine wants to get married and Brandon says he is too young and wants to wait to make sure they are doing the right thing. I don't think Brandon is going to run off … where would he go after all? … but this was one of the consequences that I worried about. I blame them both, sex is a real responsibility and now they are suffering the consequences and don't really have any way of getting away from it. I'm sure they are both scared to pieces but I'm not sure how to make it better without making some of it worse.

I'm glad that David and Rose are at least making an attempt to wait. I don't want to think about the obvious too hard but they both have good heads on their shoulders and little time for the kind of privacy to get that intimate. There are always little kids underfoot or work to do. Frankly, as tired as everyone is at the end of the day I'm surprised there is much time for procreating. On the other hand, Scott and I do our fair share, I guess you find the time for what is important to you.

And with that I'm off to bed myself. With up to four men gone tomorrow I'll likely have another double dose of duty on the Wall.


	190. Day 236

**Day 236 (Saturday) – March 24**

Was kind of freaky to have so many people gone from Sanctuary at one time. Sanctuary is just plain empty these days … or at least it feels that way. On the other hand Angus and Jim showed up mid-morning and they were worth a bit of ruckus as usual.

The kids were in Heaven … Uncle Angus was back and he had brought Mayhem with him. Mischief stays at Sanctuary most of the time while Mayhem stays with Angus where ever he is. However the day after Market Day, barring any unforeseen circumstances, Angus and Jim are going off on a trip and both dogs will go with them. They came to Sanctuary to make some reloads … I guess that is what you call them … for the shotguns they are taking. They have a reloading station over at Aldea but it was in use by Matlock who was teaching some of the kids to make reloads.

It might not be a bad idea for our kids to have this skill but most of the men use it as a form of entertainment. I'd hate to see them lose any of their "down time" or "fun time" activities when they don't have to.

Angus and Jim also asked if I could make them up some "quick to fix" meals to take on the road with them. I'm going to use a method called "Freezer Bag Cooking" and make them some meals that all they'll have to do is add boiling water to. They will supplement the fresh and canned foods they will be taking with them.

Unlike in other gathering runs we can no longer assume that they'll be able to scavenge for food along the way. They might be able to but given the shortages we are experiencing around here and the likelihood they will be traveling part of the time through zones of destruction from the fire and the hive it's just safer for them to take their own supplies with them.

Here is one of the meals that I'm packaging up for them. It's called Chicken and Peas One Pot Meal

12 oz small pasta shapes

1⁄4 c diced sun dried tomatoes

1⁄4 c freeze dried green peas

4 pkt lower sodium chicken broth concentrate

1 T extra virgin olive oil (1 packet)

4 pkt soy sauce

7 oz package chicken breast

1⁄4 c shelf stable parmesan cheese

4 1⁄2 c water

In a large pot (at least 2 Liter) bring the water to a boil, along with the broth concentrate and oil. Add in the pasta, vegetables and chicken. Bring back to a boil and cook for time on package. Turn off the heat source, stir in the soy sauce, then the Parmesan cheese, then let sit for a couple minutes to thicken up.

This is actually a pretty filling meal, especially if they add some type of bread to it like a pretzel or biscuit or breadstick.

Here's another one for Souped Up Ramen that can be cooked in a thermos for an on-the-go meal.

1 pk 3-ounces ramen (discard flavor packet)

1 t low sodium chicken bouillon

1 t mexican or fajita seasoning blend

1⁄4 t true lime powder (1 packet)

1 t diced dried carrots

1 t diced dried onions

1 t diced dried bell peppers

1 t diced sundried tomatoes

1⁄4 c corn chips

2 c water

At home pack the dry seasoning ingredients in a small bag, seal tightly. Pack the ramen and the corn chips separately. Insulated mug method: Add the seasoning blend to your mug, crush the ramen a bit and add on top. Cover with 2 cups boiling water, cover tightly and let sit for 10 minutes. Garnish with the corn chips.

Who would have ever thought we would run low on ramen noodles. I swear we had cases upon cases of that stuff. We still have a goodly number as well as some of those cup-o-soups in those Styrofoam cups but those will all be gone in a couple of months. Our pasta supplies, even adding Sanctuary's and Aldea's supplies back together, are about half of what they were a few short months ago. They are going the way of all the wheat products. I can learn to make pasta, I've done it pre-NRS though it's not my favorite thing to do, but no wheat means no pasta. Or at least no wheat pasta. I wish I had more time and the luxury of experimenting. I'm sure Bettie and I combined to figure something out but at the moment we don't so there you have it.

The approaching shortage of items that we can't grow for ourselves is the primary motivation for the gathering runs under discussion. Angus and Jim are going to head to the south just to see what shape people and places are in and whether we can establish any trade relationships for tropical items. Sometime soon we will also be sending people north to try and do the same thing. To the north is where we will find things like wheat and apples. The south will yield rum; larger quantities of tropical fruits that I already grow in containers such as guavas; other tropical fruits like longan, lychee, and dragon fruit. We might also hook up with the ethanol plant that is supposed to be running down there. I wonder how Juicer would run on a diet of "white lightning."

Today was baking day so our ovens were busy with breads, pies, and cookies. That meant that I pulled out the solar ovens and made some stuffed cabbage that actually turned out really well this way. I expected to have some problems with people not wanting to eat them but I guess we all work hard enough that food is food for the most part. I had the kids prepping the chili fixin's and they are now in the Cooler waiting to be tossed into the cauldron first thing in the morning. The green soup that we had at lunch was really, really good. I added a lot of garlic to it. Scott could still smell it on my breath when he and the other men got home. I told him he could put up with my garlic breath for one day since I was going to have to put up with his chili smell tomorrow.

Seems like the drying oven is a relatively easy piece of equipment to build; especially when you have enough willing bodies to do the work. Tomorrow several from Aldea will come here and reciprocate the effort. None too soon either. There is a lot of fresh produce in the cooler that needs to be preserved. I've got beans coming out the nose and the tomatoes are starting to pile up as well. There's enough tomatoes in fact that tomorrow I hope to make enough tomato juice so that I can process at least 21 quarts of vegetable soup.

Tomorrow I also want to try and start setting aside stuff to take to Market Day and I need to get a "shopping list" pulled together. Even if we don't trade for everything on Market Day I'd like to make some contacts for potential trades down the road.

Well, Scott just came in from guard duty so I'm going to stop here. He's feeling a little better. Whatever was bothering him appears to be subsiding after the liberal application of extra fiber but I can tell he is still much more tired than he should be. I doubt he is even in the mood for a backrub tonight.


	191. Day 237

**Day 237 (Sunday) – March 25 – Rest Day (Yeah Right … Not)**

Today was pretty fun but a lot of work. It was supposed to be a Rest Day but it wasn't for any of the adults. We tried to give all of the kids several hours of down time anyway. We have found that they stay healthier and have a better disposition if we don't work them like they are miniature adults.

The folks from Aldea showed up as the breakfast dishes were being put away and lunch was being put on the fire to cook. I hadn't seen some of the younger guys in almost two weeks. They all looked tanned and healthy but a bit thinner than they were. I think it is the heat here in Florida contributing to some of that. A lot of heavy labor in this heat will really burn up the calories. The heat and humidity by the river would probably be even worse.

More than building our drying oven happened today. They had just finished building the barrel stove section that was the heat source for the dehydrator when Brandon gave a sharp whistle from the Front Gate guard post. Two men were slowly trudging up the barricade road, all that now remains of this portion of US41, waving a sorta white-colored piece of cloth at the end of a stick. It was what was on the white cloth that drove us to send out a greeting party; a red cross, the international symbol of humanitarian aid.

We now have the pleasure of knowing the mysterious "walking medic" and "the German" we've been hearing about on the radio. The medic's name is Ignacio … Iggy for short. He's 5'8" and built like a brick wall. Slung in a fireman's carry position across his shoulders was a kid … teenager … of 17 years of age who was in a bad way with a fever from an infected bullet wound that went through the meaty part of his thigh. Iggy had been carrying him like this since before first light. They had been on their way towards the old medical buildings across from USF when they spotted us. The "German" is called Bob even though his proper name is Johan. In a crowd you might not notice him at first glance. But on second glace you know he is all there. He is 5'5" and built low and compact but reminds me of a spring that is wound just this side of tight. Bob had a boy that is four years of age on his shoulders and in a sling he carried an infant that turned out to be about three weeks old.

Iggy and Bob were foot sore but otherwise healthy. The kids on the other hand were a mess. Iggy, Waleski, Rose, and Melody took them off to the clinic and hung the quarantine sign on the hook outside. Bob got a quick shower and changed his clothes and then told us their story.

Bob's given name is Johann Zimmer. Dix is chomping at the bit to test him out on the radio. He speaks a good handful of different languages. He was tired and just about wound down but when I offered him a mug of coffee you would have thought he had found Eldorado or something. Boy, he has a worse caffeine addiction than Scott's father did.

Before things went to pot, Bob was Lt. Zimmer in the German Army NBC forces. He was on leave with a couple of buddies and their girls sailing and snorkeling down in the Keys when things went crazy. It's taken him months to make it this far north. He and his friends island hopped for a while but no matter where they went NRS eventually overwhelmed the population or resources became so critically low that turf wars broke out and then it was every man for himself. He's the only one left of their group.

Bob hooked up with Iggy by accident. The Coast Guard and Navy keep the pirates and raider groups small and disorganized along the coastline but that doesn't mean that they aren't still a danger. They had been travelling on a ferry on the Manatee River when they were attacked. They teamed up because it was sensible. The hive and the fire dispersed the group they were with and sent the two men further north. The two men basically fell into helping others and becoming "traveling medics." It's given them purpose and direction after the constant battling for survival slacked off to something less than every minute of every day.

They had just given up on trying to convince a small group that just because some US military troops had been seen in the area that this wasn't the end of the PAW and that the government wasn't on their way to rescue anyone. Bob said that Iggy is a sucker for kids … a big sucker … a ginormous sucker. That's only been a problem once but for Bob once was enough. In that instance a kid had faked an injury so that Iggy would let down his guard; subsequently they were attacked by a bunch of kids who tried to take their gear. They got away from that one but had more than a few bruises to show for it.

They came around the corner and spotted the four year old in the middle of the road drinking from a mud puddle. The boy's name is Tyce.

"Iggy was trying to get the boy to stop drinking the muddy water and to find out where his people were. I just didn't like the situation after what happened last time. I had turned my back just enough to say I thought we were being watched when I got pegged in the ankle with a rock. That older kid starts crawling out of the bushes and if he hadn't been yelling at us to get away from the little boy I would have probably shot him. He looked worse off than some of the zombies I've seen."

The teenager's name is Tris. It took a while to calm him down so that Iggy could see if there was anything medically that could be done.

Tyce is Tris' little brother by his dad's third wife. His dad was one of the searchers that disappeared during the original Ybor City infestation. At the time his stepmother had just found out she was pregnant. She wanted to take the boys and go to her family's place in St. Augustine but when the quarantine hit there was just no way to get there. They had been making out OK until right before the baby was born. Three men had broken into the house and taken what little food they had left been able to scavenge. They pushed everyone around and then raped the woman despite her advanced pregnancy. When they started fighting amongst themselves Tris was able to bash two of them in the head while the other ran off.

The rape sent Tris' stepmother into labor. Even then it looked like things would turn out OK but then she developed a fever and died within a week of giving birth. The infant is a girl and the boys named her CindyLou from the Dr. Seuss story _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ which is Tyce's favorite book. Tris' injury came the day they were burying Tyce's mother. Tris was trying to learn how to load and shoot one of the guns from the bandits when it accidentally went off. He didn't lose a lot of blood but he did manage to get an infection.

The boys had barely been surviving, with deteriorating conditions, for nearly two weeks when Iggy and Bob came upon them. Tris needs more care than Iggy could provide "on the road" and he also needs someone to look after him as well as Tyce and Cinda. The plan was to head over to the university area and look for drugs for Tris' medical needs but their vehicle blew a head gasket and none of the others they had checked out up to that point would run either. They just kept walking. They took a long chance after they spotted Sanctuary's Wall but figured if nothing else maybe they could trade work for something for the kids to eat, fresh water, or at a bare minimum find something for the baby.

Bob's tale was told quickly and the men returned to complete the fire driven dehydrator. Bob seemed to get a kick out of it. They had built the three walls of that surrounded the 55 gallon drum two blocks taller than the drum was when it was laid on its side. The bottom of the walled area was loaded with gravel and then the barrel was laid in on its side. The end of the barrel that had already had a door cut into it to feed the fire faced out.

After that the men dropped 4 x 4's into the hollow corners and fashioned a frame for the drying trays to fit on. On three sides of the frame they hung half-inch plywood so that the three concrete block walls were topped with three plywood walls that were hinged at the bottom so that the walls could be open and shut. On the short fourth side the same kind of door/wall was attached. The roof they built at a peak, then they added a stove pipe and damper set up so that the heat could be controlled.

The way this is set up I can dry anywhere from five to fifteen bushels of produce at a time and they tell me it should only take about 24 hours to do it in. That will be a lot more reliable especially during the rainy season. This should also easy my worries about having to use all of our jars and lids up too quickly.

While that project was being finished I fed chili over rice to everyone who was ready to eat. When I brought out the icy lemonade Iggy – who had just come out of the clinic – just stared like he was seeing things. Both he and Bob just sort of held the cold glass for a minute and put it against their foreheads before they took their first sip. I guess it had been a while since they had seen or had ice.

Just like with Dawson and his family, Iggy and Bob will be staying in Sanctuary for a while. Both men are weary. They've done a lot of good deeds but even saints need a vacation from their work on occasion so that they can refuel. In exchange for "room and board" Bob is going to help translating any of the European radio transmissions that he can. Iggy is going to help at the clinic and he and Waleski are going to trade experiences. Both Iggy and Bob are going to help fill in some of our blank spots on our strategic map that we are keeping. Some of the information will be dated, but it will still be more than we had before.

Bob plans to make himself handy in other ways as well. Glenn said that he and Angus, along with Matlock and Jim, had sat up the other night BSing about stuff over tankards of hooch. They were talking about medieval fortifications and weapons, thinking how to replicate some of what we had done at Sanctuary but modify it so that it would work at Aldea, and it struck them that there might be a relatively easy way to deal with the shortage of standard ammo. The idea is so great it could probably be turned into a trade and people could apprentice to learn it giving us a tidy profit at some point.

During the middle ages there were these crossbows that threw "shot" rather than bolts. They had some preliminary drawings but when Scott looked at them he said that some of the machining necessary was beyond his skill. This is however where Bob comes in; seems that one of his primary skills is as a machinist, all levels of it in fact. He says he won't have any problem creating the trigger mechanism if Scott can fabricate a sturdy stock that he can attach everything to. The best part of this plan is that the parts and ammo for these crossbows are just sitting around waiting to be harvested. For the front metal piece they will use leaf springs from cars and the ammo itself will be ball bearings out of cars as well. It's a win-win situation.

After Scott heard about Bob's talent he brought out a drawing and showed him a Roman catapulta. It's sort of a cross between a crossbow and a catapult but it throws bolts rather than boulders. The smaller the catapulta the smaller the bolt. The reverse is also true … the larger the catapulta the larger the bolt. The right size catapulta with the right type of bolt could even pierce a lightly armored vehicle. We are already running low on the 50mm ammo for the mounted machine guns. A catapulta mounted at different positions on the Wall would give us the same "caliber" of protection if not the reload speed.

The folks from Aldea packed it up and took the supplies home with them that we had been setting aside. Bob promised to have a prototype of the crossbow and catapulta within the week, assuming he and Scott could set up a machine shop he could work in.

After they left I finally had time to sit down and look at what they had sent from Aldea. Right on top Saen sent me an update of how their garden was doing and how the rice fields were growing. Seems everything is progressing to plan though the mosquitoes are much worse than they had anticipated. She also asked if I could send over some more starts from the herb garden. One of the goats got loose and they lost a whole corner of the little herb patch. If that had happened here we might have been having BBQ'd goat for dinner.

Saen also sent me a recipe for rice noodles just in case I can't figure out how to make wheat-based pasta. You soak one and a quarter cups of uncooked long-grain rice in one and a quarter cup of water overnight. In the morning you grind the rice and water mixture until it is very smooth. This is going to take some work and I've been thinking if the hand blender I bought from Emergency Essential several years ago will work. If it won't I'll have to see if I can find a blender that still works and hook it up to one of our solar set ups.

After you have it blended smooth, you lightly coat an 8" x 8" x 2" baking pan with oil and heat it for about 3 minutes in a steamer. Pour in 1/2 cup of the rice batter in an even layer and replace the steamer lid. Steam for 5 minutes. From this point on, you check to make sure there's water in the steamer. Add boiling water as necessary if it's low.

After 5 minutes, coat the top of the first layer lightly but thoroughly with vegetable oil and pour 1/2 cup of batter in an even layer on top of it and again, steam for 5 minutes. Repeat with the remaining rice batter. After adding the last layer, steam for 8 minutes. When sliced, the layers will separate into thin noodles.

The fresh noodles need to be used immediately in any recipe calling for fresh rice noodles or we could wrap them tightly in plastic wrap and store in the Cooler for a day or so. She said you can even freeze them for a while but they get a grainy texture from that real fast. Saen likes to make everything fresh but I wonder if I could dry these and store them that way? Sure would be handy. And we can also pick how wide or thin the noodles will be since we are the ones who will do the cutting. I think the first time I try this I'll use a pizza cutter to cut the noodles with and see if that makes it any easier.

Samuel and Sarah were part of an outside inspection group of the Wall in the afternoon. I should have known something was up. Those two are always bringing things home but most of the time they are inanimate. This time what they brought home wasn't. Gopher tortoises I don't mind so long as they are kept out of the garden; they actually prefer to stay in the orange grove which I consider a good thing. But I wish those kids would have asked before they brought home these critters. Of course, since they were aided and abetted by several of the men from here in Sanctuary I couldn't exactly say too much.

They "collected" about six soft-shelled turtles, a dozen frogs, and even three very small alligator snapping turtles from one of the ponds where David has been getting fish from. They were dumped in one of the shallow canal sections that held some Carp, minnows, and a few other bits of freshwater life. It wasn't the soft-shells or the frogs that really bothered me. It was those blasted alligator turtles.

Alligator snapping turtles aren't quite as aggressive as regular snapping turtles but you don't want to mess with them either. Dang it! Those things can get from 150 to 200 pounds when they are full grown! And they look like freaking dinosaurs. When I was a kid I got up close and personal with one at Nature's Classroom. Luckily nothing awful happened but the Ranger relocated us kids rather than trying to relocate the turtle; their jaws have the same clamping capacity of a gator, pit bull, and similar type of animals. And it has a tail like a gator as well. We'll have to keep the kids from doing any swimming in the canals until we see how things go with the wildlife that's being installed there.

Angus, who I believe I mentioned used to be a professional hunter and animal control specialist, said that the soft-shells will probably be OK for eating if we wait a month or two for any potential biohazards to clear their system. Think I'll give it a while longer; maybe until I can get the picture of some zombie corpse being gnoshed on by a turtle out of my head. Ick.

Before I toddle off to bed I had to share something that Chris mentioned. They have hot and cold running water in the kitchen at Aldea! Color me jealous! They've built two water towers using smaller storage containers and on top stacked those poly whatchamacallits that are like giant animal troughs. One is opaque and the other is black. The opaque one holds the "cold" water and the black one is the "hot" water. The pressure is best when the tanks are topped off but when the levels get low they still have running water from gravity alone. Scott is supposed to go over there this coming weeks and take his water drilling equipment to help them get a couple of wells dug; one for drinking and one for agricultural use. Seeing as they are real close to the river the water table is going to be pretty high but he'll do his best to go deep enough to get to "sweet" water if possible.

I guess I'll close with Tris and Tyce are being taken care of and sleeping heavily. Iggy managed to do a better than decent job of taking care of them despite the difficult circumstances. Tris' wound had to be abraded and will need a full course of antibiotics but he is already looking better just for getting cleaned up and some decent food in him. Tyce is experiencing some tummy troubles but that's probably from the muddy water. They aren't taking any chances and are watching him closely for anything infectious and he's under full quarantine until they get it figured out.

Baby Cinda isn't doing well. The boys don't know whether she was a preemie or not. It's hard to tell. They had some canned rice milk for her at first but when that ran out last week all they had to give her was sugar water. I made up the same kind of formula for her as I did for Kitty when she was a new infant but she upchucked it despite the fact that she was suckling it up at first. Rose and Melody took turns with her all afternoon so I've volunteered to stay up with her tonight to keep an eye on her. Scott said that as soon as she gets out of quarantine he'll bring the cradle back down out of the attic where he put it when Kitty outgrew it.

I have no idea why everyone seems to think it is a foregone conclusion that I'll be raising this baby. She's got a big brother that may have something to say about that though right now he just seems thankful to be able to share the burden of his younger siblings with people that seem friendly and well-meaning.

Whoops, there she goes, poor little peanut. At least she is keeping this formula down now that I've watered it down some and am giving it to her with an eye dropper. She'll take some about every fifteen minutes or so and her mouth pops open like a little bird when she feels me touch the eye dropper to her bottom lip. At least I finally got a wet diaper out of her. Who would have thought that I would be thankful for a dirty diaper?


	192. Day 238

**Day 238 (Monday) – March 26**

This is certainly not the most miserable we have ever been and part of me is going this is so petty that it's not even worth writing about … but dang it, my house smells like wet clothes and sweaty bodies. The last bastion of "creature comforts" is being attacked. OK, a little melodramatic but I'm not running on much more than cat naps and I've just about had it.

Well, I was up all night worrying about little bitty Cinda. I can't say that a miracle has happened but she's at least finally keeping down most of what she takes in. As soon as she keeps it all down and doesn't spit up for two hours straight then I'll try a less diluted version of the formula. Once she can keep down a fully undiluted version of the formula and can go a full day with only normal baby spit up then we can say that she's probably completely out of the woods.

I gave a lot of thought to who else could take Cinda. All the women I could think of who might are either already pregnant or likely trying to get pregnant. I think Glenn and Saen might try for a family once Aldea is more settled and secured; maybe after that trading run to the north that some of the men keep talking about. Not all the ones that want to go are going to be able to go; it would leave both Aldea and Sanctuary too short handed.

I quietly brought this problem up to Waleski and he was very concerned that I was basically saying that I wouldn't take the baby. I told him no, that wasn't what I meant but under the circumstances I worried that the assumption that no one else would wasn't very good in my opinion. Then I asked his opinion of broaching the topic with Tina. Attempting not to breech privacy issues … he explained to me that Tina is dead set against having any more kids and one of the reasons that she and Dante' are having problems is because of this. He wants another child but she doesn't because she is afraid if their daughter's problems were genetic that they'd wind up right back where they started at all over again. I suppose I can understand that even if I don't totally believe that that is Tina's only reason for not wanting another child; if it was adoption would be the perfect solution to that.

We're going to be popping babies all over the place in the next few months one way or the other. And we haven't even begun to take into account Tris and Tyce in this equation, both of whom spent most of the day sleeping. Tyce's tummy troubles have settled down so it was likely just a combination of anxiety, fatigue, and poor nutrition (and drinking less than sanitary water). Rose says Tris will wake at a start and look wildly around and has to be reassured that Tyce and Cinda are being cared for. I hope that bodes well for his level of responsibility in other areas as well. For now, we'll just continue taking care of Cinda in shifts.

Today was Wash Day so as soon as Rose and Melody came to the clinic after breakfast I left Cinda in their care and went to start our laundry. Our laundry wasn't too bad since I had done all of the bedding and most of the other linens last week. I had one load large load of towels and rags but we've switched from the big fluffy towels we use to keep to thinner and smaller linen towels that don't take so long to wash and dry. Everyone also has their own set that they use multiple times before it being laundered.

As always there was a boat load of socks and underclothes and Kitty's diapers have to get a long boil to keep them white but otherwise it wasn't too awful. In fact I left it mostly in Charlene's hands and she supervised Sarah and Bekah. James helped with some of the heavier items in between catnaps after double shift on guard duty. I took the littles with me to the garden so I didn't have to worry about any of them getting under foot, scalded or burnt by the wash fire. Scott took Kitty in the baby backpack since mostly what he was doing was making lists and gathering materials for Bob. Iggy was going to go by himself and check out the pediatric offices just to see if there was anything left in them but Dix talked him into a going with Angus and Jim instead of solo. That's another story and after what they saw … I still don't want to think about it so I'll just leave it until tomorrow.

As I was saying, I took the littles and truthfully I needed their help. The garden is doing really well and there was a whole lot that needed harvesting. I got another bushel and three-quarters of beans picked and I just picked over them yesterday. I transferred a bunch of tomatoes to the Cooler … every bit of six five gallon bucketfuls. I cut more collard greens and made another mess of them up for lunch and the rest are waiting to be canned in the Cooler; also harvested a bunch of cabbage and romaine. Mostly what I focused on today though was pulling the carrots of which I pulled about 4 bushels of the various kinds that are coming up.

Aside from harvesting I was worried about how sun-fried some of my plants were getting. I picked a couple of bad spots for some of the more tender plants. I know it is only the end of March but the sun is already getting fierce in a couple of spots where this is absolutely no shade at all during the whole day. It's not that the plants aren't being adequately watered, it's that they are actually getting sun burnt. I solved some of this by harvesting as much as I could out of those areas … the greens particularly. For the ones that were looking real bad but weren't ready for harvest I had the kids help me put up shade cloth. The plan was that the plants would get the morning and late afternoon sun but the mid-day sun would be mitigated by the sun shade netting. I hammered stakes and pinned up shade cloth until I developed a headache and it was time for the kids to eat lunch.

I was so hot and sweaty that the only thing that was the least appetizing was the salad at lunch. Since Scott started having diverticula attacks again we've not been mixing things all together; instead we set up a salad bar kind of deal and let people graze at will. Betty made these empanadas that were filled with either picadillo or this sherpherd's pie kind of filling. The men all chowed down … I just couldn't face anything. When I get tired and stressed my appetite disappears, it never helped my weight pre-NRS but it's played against me since then. Scott kept trying to get me eat something to the point I got irritated.

I quickly cleared my plate and washed it up and put it in our big plate rack and then headed home to see how the girls had done with the laundry. Before I could get there Rose came out of the clinic looking frustrated and upset. Cinda wasn't eating for her or Melody. I walked in to hear this little mewling sound which is Cinda's cry. Melody is doing her best, without success, to get her to calm down. Rilla would have tried but her son had a sore throat and we couldn't risk Cinda catching anything. Waleski was going on about how Cinda had already imprinted on me, blah, blah, blah.

No … she just got secure being fed by someone that is more padded than the girls were. I'm not Jane Russell but after five kids I've got my share. Sure enough, I pick her up and sit back down in the rocker and using the eyedropper tapping at her bottom lip I get her to start eating. Poor little bird was starving too. Scott had followed me over and was looking through the screen of the window wearing one of those silly grins that guys who like kids wear. I just gave him the Spock eyebrow and then put all my concentration on settling Cinda back down.

I guess I had been at it a couple of hours when I noticed the sky wasn't quite as bright as it had been. I put Cinda down and stepped outside. There were dark clouds off to the west. When the dark clouds are out of the east sometimes we get rain and sometimes we don't but they are usually "normal" rains. When the clouds come out of the west though, more often than not we don't get anything. But when we do it can be bad.

I saw Scott down the road but there were no kids handy to run a message for me. Scott and I had started carrying mirrors to catch someone's attention rather than bellowing at the top of our lungs. I managed to flicker him right in the eye as he happened to glance my way. After he blinked away the spots I pointed to the sky in the direction of the clouds and then at the trees that were beginning to show a little wind movement. He OK'd me using his thumb and pointer finger.

I went back inside and dealt with a wet and disgruntled baby and watched the wind pick up quite a bit for the next thirty minutes. But it was a very muggy wind with not much coolness to it like you would expect if rain was on the way. I hate that weather, it never leads to anything good.

We have been lucky thus far that we haven't really had too much truly bad weather. We've had some gully washers with a little bit of tree damage but I had a feeling at the time that we were running out of luck.

As the sky darkened further I again stuck my head out the door and saw Scott approaching. He relayed that they were going to close the shutters on the houses just to be on the safe side. Most of the buildings in Sanctuary now have two sets of exterior shutters. The first set is made of corrugated lexan on hinges that can be bolted close. The other set closes over the top of that set and is made of thick sheet metal attached to the block building with heavy hinges and bolts. Except in cases of extreme danger we normally only close the lexan shutters because light still comes through the opaque panels. When we close the metal shutters most light is shut off.

Scott and Waleski went around closing the lexan shutters on the clinic but when I stepped outside I could tell that there was still laundry on the clothes lines. Samuel came zipping by and I said where ever he was stopping he needed to remind the women that if they had clothes on the line they'd best bring it in. Cinda was in the middle of a nap so I left her in Melody's care and raced over to our house to help get the laundry in as quickly as possible.

The clothes were really beginning to whip and we were struggling to hold onto them long enough to remove the clothes pins and get them into the basket. The problem is that the clothes were still very damp. Added to that was that Charlene and James were still taking the last load out of the last boiling rinse. The stuff just off the line I had the girls take inside and put on hangers and hang on the shower rods. We just finished getting the clothes out of the rinse and run through the ringer when James felt the first drop. I swear, what a Chinese fire drill.

Even putting the clothes through a ringer they were still dripping wet. I ran a piece of strong rope across the lanai and had the girls hang the clothes up on that. With the shutters closed the house was already feeling muggy and hot. As we rushed around I could hear the hiss of the first steady drops hitting the coals of the wash fire. I had James grab some of the better coals with a shovel and put them in the ash bucket and bring them onto the lanai and lay them into the stove in the kitchen in the house. Even then I had a feeling that we were going to be eating in family groups instead of in the dining hall.

I also let Johnnie and the other boys get wet … which they loved … bringing in quite a bit of wood for the wood box. Then I sent them to get bathed … which they hated.

About that time the wind truly started whipping. I stepped onto the carport area just in time to see Waleski running over to our place from the clinic with a bundle in his arms. Cinda has started out well if her aim is to have people running and jumping at her command all the time. She awoke from her nap hungry and refused to be pacified and even though she was eating, she was crying so much she was spitting it all back up.

He unceremoniously dumped her and the formula into my arms and without a by your leave ran back to the clinic. As I stood there with my mouth hanging open thinking to myself it is all well and good for them to pass the baby off on me, but how was I supposed to get my work done now, Scott came pelting across the road with Kitty still on his back squealing in delight. He shoved her into my arms and took off himself.

There I stood, a 3-week old infant in one arm and an 8-month old in the other. Thank the good Lord that I wasn't blessed with stair step children or the first two would have been the last two. Suddenly Kitty started to wiggle and it took me a second to realize I wasn't dropping her but that Charlene and Sarah had come to give me a hand. Charlene had Kitty and was taking her to change her diaper, of which she was in desperate need, so I had Sarah sit in my Queen Anne chair and hold Cinda. She was mewling up a storm, still hoarse from all the crying she had done since birth, but Sarah quickly got the hang of feeding her. She also burped her every few swallows and that seemed to help keep the spitting up to a minimum.

While the girls handled the babies and James handled the little boys I ran around putting some water on to boil and to see if I needed anything from the food storehouse before the weather got too bad for me to get out and get it.

I suppose I should mention here that after the Aldea folks took up permanent residence over there, those of us that are left have begun to individualize as families a little more. The majority of our cooking still occurs in the community kitchen and eating takes place in the dining hall, but we've also started doing things just for our families. Maybe I'll bake some cookies for a night time treat or I'll use some of my powdered milk to make a warm posset, toddie, or drink before bedtime to help everyone sleep. I know Reba makes cornbread and buttermilk for Mr. Morris and Betty keeps a veggie and cheese tray going for her crew that all work odd hours.

Every family has their own little "kitchen garden" that is theirs and theirs alone … for consuming or trading … and we've all taken to keeping bits and pieces in our home kitchen for days when we can't cook in the community kitchen. I had plenty so didn't need to do much more than set the ingredients out on the counter and then I headed outside to check on how the weather was progressing.

I hadn't realized how bad the wind was getting, nor how back the sky had gotten. James had slipped out after getting the little boys dressed and I could just see him on the corner of the Wall securing the shutters on the SE guard station. About that time there was a bright flash followed immediately by a huge clap of thunder. I had fallen into a protective huddle mid-clap and the kids all screamed inside.

My eyes immediately checked where I had seen James and he was coming down the stairs at full tilt. Instead of heading home however he was running to help open the rear gate. Iggy, Angus, and Jim were back.

BOOM! Another flash of light followed by a deafening clap of thunder which itself was quickly followed by a second and third. Then the rain started coming down in sheets. I watched it start at the Front Gate that faced west and move down our main road. Scott, James, and David ran into the carport towing Rose and I watched Cease and Melody, each with a kid in their arms, heading towards their house. Samuel got caught in the rain and despite his size was fighting to make it home when he slipped. Scott ran out, and grab an arm and pulled the boy who even at 14 was bigger than he was over to our house.

Dix was getting a report from Angus and Jim and had sent Samuel to his mom but there was no way he could get there in this weather without getting soaked to the skin. The wind and rain were truly nasty.

Samuel told us that the animals were all in and Dix had sent all of the guards to shelter because of the lightning. Two of the lightning bolts had hit lightning rods that we had set up and grounded. The cell tower had taken a hit but it's well insulated and grounded. I'm not sure but I would hope that someone would have disconnected the radio equipment just to be on the safe side. I guess I'll find out in the morning.

Charlene started calling me at that point and I remembered the laundry hanging on the lanai. We ran out there and started yanking everything down. We've got damp laundry hanging all over the house. I took the pictures down that hide the eye bolts that are screwed into the walls where we had ropes and curtains hung for privacy when we had so many people living with us. Scott and I had never removed the eye bolts, just camouflaged them. Now they came in handy for hanging laundry.

Samuel and James strung the clothes line and the girls rehung everything while I changed Cinda and tried to plan my next few steps. I was standing in the kitchen under the skylight when it sounded like a baseball was dropped on it. Well crud! Hail!

I called out to Scott who yelled back, "I hear!"

I turned Cinda back over to Sarah and ran out, grabbed the dolly, and tried to bring my container plants onto the lanai. Pup and Bekah's puppy would choose that moment to run outside and then the rain and hail confused them and then headed to the dug out spot they had made under Scott's shed. Bekah and Sarah are crying to Scott that the dogs were going to get hurt and I was telling Scott to help me with my blasted plants and to let those two dumb dogs go!

I won that round but boy did the girls give me the evil eyes. I was soaked to the skin and trying not to think of the damage the hail was going to do to the garden and in no mood to put up with anything. I told them to get that look off of their faces or those two mutts were going to be sleeping in the barn from now on. The plants created food to keep us from being hungry and all those dogs were doing for me was creating more work. I hate being such a task master but I just am not going to put a pet above my children's future welfare.

Those of us who were bringing in the plants had welts where some of the larger pieces of hail had hit us. I cringed at the thought that if I was getting a welt from the hail what kind of damage would I find in the garden. The hail had started to let up when we got the last plant in but I think, despite how quickly we moved, I may have lost one of my aloe plants and one of my miniature banana trees. The banana tree's leaves were pretty shredded.

After reorganizing the containers I stepped back into the house to find Scott and Dix deep in conversation. Rose had started a pot of tea for the rest of us and a little coffee for David and Charlene. Dix was soaked and dripping all over the floor but someone had gotten him a towel to stand on and one to wipe his face and hair with. Samuel is going to stay with us tonight.

Patricia is only 30 weeks along but she's having pains. They had to move her during the storm over to the clinic and Iggy and Waleski are trying to stop her labor. Rose got ready to go but Dix told her to stay home and gave her some instructions from Ski on monitoring baby Cinda's vital signs. Rilla was at the clinic with them so they had a female helper. If things took a turn for the worse she and Melody would be called back to the clinic. I said a quick prayer that Waleski and Iggy would have the wisdom to do whatever needed doing and then sat and listened to Dix relate the report that he had gotten from Angus and Jim and Iggy.

I don't feel like going into it. I'm going to think on it overnight and write when I'm calmer and can put things in their proper perspective. I know they say that all's well that end's well but this almost didn't and it's just reminded me how quickly things can go from bad to worse without warning.

My girls told "Mr. Dix" that they had dinner started if he wanted to stay. He gave his barking laugh and said thank you but that Rhonda and McElroy's house was going to serve as the single men's chow hall tonight. I had the hardest time not rolling my eyes or making a comment. I just hope Rhonda makes them help and do their own dishes. She's so big she could pop any day now from the looks of her. She thinks she has another two weeks to go but she doesn't know for sure. She didn't get a lot of prenatal care to get a more exact due date for her baby.

Right after Dix went back out the hail started up again. I've been having to force myself not to worry but it's awful hard. I'm anxious for morning to come so that I can check on the gardens. Before the early sunset arrived what was left of the road bed was completely flooded as was the orange grove. It will soak in fast overnight, it always does, but I'm worried about my smaller plants … and there I go worrying again. There isn't a thing I can do about it now.

I split the rest of my time between chores and taking care of Cinda. For all the cleaning my house smells like wet dog. Grrrr! The two king of the beasts finally deigned to leave their hiding place once it began to flood out. Of course the girls were ecstatic and loved on those muddy little beasts and brought them inside "to get the poor things out of the rain. "Mom, they were soooooo scared." Argh! Well, the girls lost some of their sympathy when I made them mop up all the water and sand the dogs had tracked in, give the dogs a bath on the wet lanai, and then when they had to do it all over again because the dogs had to go do their business before bed. Now they know how I feel.

Dinner used up the last of the Ramen I had in the house. I made a Ramen Stir-Fry with ramen, fresh carrots and broccoli, and a few green beans thrown in there for good measure. I also made some pork fried rice that instead of pork loin I used chopped bacon in. It took a whole can of bacon but I figure we'll be slaughtering at least two hogs this winter so I decided not to be stingy.

And now, here I sit, listening to Scott snore, listening to Sarah snore, listening to the dogs snore, and trying to keep Cinda pacified so that she doesn't wake everyone up. There was a little jealousy from Kitty until Scott took her and played with her until she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open and he put her to bed.

It's still raining a bit here and there but the worst of the storming let up about 9 o'clock. I guess my sitting here worrying it to pieces won't change what already is so I'm going to put my pen down and see if I can catch a wink of sleep before Cinda needs to be fed again. I'm sitting in the dining room so that I can hear the door if they need to send for Rose but so far we haven't heard anything. We snuck something into Samuel's toddy so that he was go to sleep as he kept winding up and wanting to go check on his mom. That's another situation that is whatever it already is.

As tired as I am, I still can't wait for morning to get here.


	193. Day 239

**Day 239 (Tuesday) – March 27 – Mending Day**

Mending day … only it's not clothes that I've been mending. The hail and the storm did more damage than I'm happy with but it was so hot that the ice really didn't have time to do the damage that it could have. And those sun shades that I had put up yesterday helped with some of the super tender plants. The worst of the damage was we had two trees come down inside Sanctuary – one in the compound proper and one in the animal enclosure area – and a couple of really big limbs that came down as well. Trash out of the trees, especially the turkey oaks, was everywhere.

We had some melted wiring on the cell tower but thankfully nothing that made it to the radio shack. Dix completely disconnected it from all outside wiring or things could have been much worse.

First thing this morning, before I could do anything else, I needed to take care of baby Cinda. She is resting better between feedings and her coloring is better though if it came down to a fight between her and a feather, the feather would still win. I was able to lower the dilution of the formula a bit more today than I expected. It looks like maybe she was just crying and causing herself to spit up as much as anything else being wrong.

And I need to say that Patricia's labor pains stopped during the night but they are keeping her in the clinic for at least another few days. During the day, while I was saying hi to Patricia, she told me that Ski and Iggy were talking about using Magnesium Sulfate if necessary to stop her labor. They don't want to because of the potential side effects but they can. I suppose that's a good thing. She is 30 weeks along. If she can hold off on having the baby another five or six weeks the baby's chances of survival without medical intervention goes up significantly

I did have a fairly odd … well, OK, not odd just unexpected … thing happen today. Maddie. Maddie who will bear the scar for the rest of her life of the explosion that killed her family. The scar isn't near pronounced as it used to be, certainly not as shocking, but she is still self-conscious about it. Brandon is too young to be a father figure for her, only a year or so older and caught up in his own grieving and troubles. Josephine and Maddie never really got along because Josephine resented how Maddie and Marty treated Brandon. I'll admit to not really knowing how to deal with Maddie, she hung out more with Tina and Becky than with me or mine. But with the others gone to Aldea, this has left Maddie to find solace and friendship where she could.

Enter Charlene. Apparently she and Maddie have become friends without me even realizing what was going on. Certainly I'm not sorry for it. Charlene is 16 and needs girls her own age for company. Rose just doesn't have a lot of time and prefers to hang out with Melody and Rilla and the older Morris girls. Anyway, Maddie came over this morning to say hello … and I suspect to get out of the house because Brandon and Josephine were arguing again.

I was surprised as heck but Cinda took to Maddie without a single chirp or fuss. She volunteered to help at the clinic so that Rose and Melody could get done what they needed to get done and would just oversee her taking care of the baby.

I admit that has been a relief for me. I think Cinda is a cute little bug and won't mind taking her in but I already have more work than I can get done every day. When someone would bring up that "it takes a village to raise a child" phrase I used to roll my eyes, but these days they aren't kidding. I can't be on top of all the kids 24/7 and do the work that I need to do to make sure those kids have food in their bellies, etc. It's a good thing I'm not getting too attached to her because Tris was extremely anxious by the time we got Cinda to the clinic for weighing, etc. Tyce is doing better as well and both boys didn't like the baby being gone from their sight.

I left Maddie to help with the baby as Charlene and the rest of our littles trooped over to the community kitchen. Good brown gravy! What a mess! Charlene set the littles to wiping down tables and sweeping debris while I tried to clear out the prep and cooking areas. The screen door had been ripped off and the screening torn in several places and there was all sorts of leaves and water inside that had to be cleaned up. Betty wasn't too far behind in showing up. While she started breakfast itself I sewed up the rips in the screens as best I could and James put the door back on. Two of the hinges were reusable but one was completely broken and had to be replaced. New holes had to be drilled for that one because we didn't have a match to replace it with.

After breakfast I went out to the gardens. Well, it could have been worse.

I had a few plants that had some leaf and fruit damage but it wasn't as bad as my worst fears. I think I have lost a few things but it wasn't from the hail. There was a large tree that I thought was far enough away from the gardens that it wouldn't be able to damage anything or over shade it. Well, the tree laid down in the storm last night. It must have been drought damaged and a microburst might have just been too much for the roots to handle.

The shrubby uppermost part of the tree is down over the corner of one of the squash gardens. I don't know if they'll come back or not, the plants were pretty damaged. I'm not going to pull them up though until I am sure there isn't anything to salvage.

We also had a big limb come down really close to where we have the bee hives. No damage; but the bees weren't exactly at their most friendly this morning. All of the sawing and people over in their area really hacked them off. Mr. Morris decided that under the circumstances he might as well pull the next batch of honey so that the bees could relax undisturbed after this for a while.

The bees may not have been happy this morning but they've been doing something to make themselves happy since the last time. We got another 1000 pounds of honey from the 12 hives and Mr. Morris has set up three more super hotels to try and attract some of the feral hives that are looking for homes right now. It wasn't quite three pounds of honey per frame this time but it was close enough as makes almost no difference. We'll split this batch of honey with Aldea. Mr. Morris said that if he can catch another few feral hives and get them domesticated he'll help to transfer at least one hive over to Aldea if for no other reason than to help them to keep their garden pollinated.

I know 1000 pounds of honey – 500 pounds if you back out Aldea's share – seems like a lot of honey but it's not as much as you would think. A single gallon of honey weighs about 12 pounds though it varies by moisture content. So doing the math 500 pounds of honey yields about 41 gallons. We got 1000 pounds from the first run of honey back on the sixth of this month. We haven't transferred very much of that to Aldea yet until they have a bug-free container set up. They are working on another Cooler but it takes time and they have so much other stuff to do.

We have a "Honey House" set up which is basically a portable building that Mr. Morris had the men haul in and he's fixed it up quite a bit. Half of the building is the honey equipment and the other half is for honey storage. Mr. Morris is a bear about keeping both areas clean to keep the bugs away.

But like what I was saying about 500 pounds of honey not going as far as you think it would. Say you have 40 gallons of honey. One batch of mead takes about one and a half gallons. You might not make 40 batches of mead in a year but I can frankly foresee the men wanting to make 10 or more per year with no problem; and that doesn't even include if they decide to trade their mead. So 10 times 1.5 equals 15 gallons; that leaves you 25 gallons of honey. A cup of honey is about 12 ounces. For every cup of processed white sugar that you would use in a recipe you use about ¾ cup of honey (plus backing out some of the liquid and adding ½ teaspoon baking soda). Trust me at that conversion, and if we were having to use nothing but honey as a sweetener for cooking and for canning, it won't take long at all to go through that amount of honey.

Thankfully, Mr. Morris thinks we can get another four harvests out of the hives before we need to back off and leave them alone. Harvesting once a month from March through July should give us a total … assuming we can get around four hundred pounds per hive for the year … 4,800 pounds total; that's nearly two and a half tons of honey. That will let us split with Aldea, make enough mead for the men to drown themselves in a couple of times a year, have enough in storage for cooking and preserving, and if we are fortunate we may even have enough to trade with. Certainly we'll have enough beeswax to trade with.

Mr. Morris said we should get between five and ten pounds of beeswax per hive by the end of the year. That will give us anywhere between 60 and 150 pounds of wax depending on how much wax per hive and how many hives we are able to get up and running by catching the feral hives. That's a lot of doggone wax. I can use the wax in some of my home and herbal concoctions and of course the wax will make great candles if we need them. But if you think about it more, if we use the beeswax for candles alone it could take up to a pound of wax to make one decent taper candle. Geez, on second thought, maybe 60 pounds of beeswax isn't that much after all. It sure wouldn't be enough to keep Sanctuary and Aldea in candles for a year.

Spent the day hoeing and harvesting; gotta make hay while the sun shines. Still took the time though to bake a honey cake for Sarah's birthday tomorrow. I made a carrot spice cake. This is the recipe:

1/2 cup butter or margarine

1 cup honey

2 eggs

2 cups finely grated carrots

1/2 cup golden raisins

1/2 cup chopped nuts

1/4 cup orange juice

2 teaspoons vanilla

1 cup whole wheat flour

1 cup unbleached flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1-1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

1/4 Tablespoon ground nutmeg

In large mixing bowl, cream butter until fluffy. Beat in honey in fine stream until well blended. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. In small bowl, combine carrots, raisins, nuts, orange juice and vanilla, set aside. Combine dry ingredients; set aside. Add dry ingredients to creamed mixture alternately with carrot mixture, beginning and ending with dry ingredients. Turn batter into greased 12x8x2-inch pan. Bake at 350°F 35 to 45 minutes or until wooden pick inserted near center comes out clean. Cool in pan 10 minutes. Turn onto wire cake rack.

I was out of pre-made frosting so I made a cream cheese frosting from scratch. And when I mean from scratch I mean all the way from-the-cow scratch. First I had to make the cream cheese; well, actually I used cream cheese that Reba had made up a couple of days ago and had in the Cooler. And then from there I beat, whipped, and whisked just the women of days gone by had to if they wanted frosting for their cakes.

I wish we could do something more for Sarah's birthday. Scott and I sat down with her and explained that it wouldn't be quite the number of kids there as was at Bekah's but she said she didn't care if it was just family. Sarah used to be our social butterfly and it concerns me a bit that she has turned away from people so much and is so totally focused on animals now. Or maybe she just has deep friendships now instead of flitting between superficial ones. She and Callie Morris get along really well. Of course there is Samuel and they are really good friends, both love working with the animals.

I suppose I shouldn't worry about the kids as much as I do. It's just that in such a short period of time their whole lives have been upended and they are at such an impressionable age too. Look at Rose. Her future was just starting … there was going to be college, driving her own car, more independence … and now she's practically locked into a full-time position in the clinic and possibly marriage to David, though they've both got the sense to know they aren't ready for that quite yet. And she won't be 18 until June.

And James; he wanted to play football and try and get into UF and then maybe even go into public service behind the political scene after he experienced a little bit of life first. Now all he does is experience life. The only time he gets to play football is if Scott or David have the time (and energy) to toss the football back and forth. Barely 16 and he's already been forced to kill men and sanitize zombies. The insanity of it. How on earth has all our lives changed so much so quickly?!

I found Josephine crying in the orange grove a little after lunch. She and Brandon had another fight. She keeps trying to push him into public confrontations thinking that will force his hand. But Brandon isn't as weak as he appears to be. I let her cry a little longer and then asked her what she had wanted the outcome of the argument to be. She doesn't want to "have a bastard" and "her grandmother would never have understood" and "it wasn't supposed to be like this."

I don't know what these young girls are thinking when they start having sex. Oh, I know what the boys are thinking about it doesn't get much farther away than hand's reach down south. Guys' brains are just one huge hormone until they get a little age on them. And girls aren't much better but we have the natural consequences to deal with and a built in monthly reminder in case we forget. Sex is beautiful with the right person under the right circumstances but the consequences, even when you are married to the perfect person, have an incredible responsibility with them. And since guys seem to be handicapped by their own bodies it's up to the girl to keep it under control. I've always taught the kids not to do anything they wouldn't do in front of Scott and I. Rose and James get a little more detail on that advice but the bottom line is still the same. If you don't intentionally put yourself into situations of excess temptation then you give yourself a better than even chance of being able to resist that temptation and keep your head and your hands where they are supposed to be.

I guess Josephine and Brandon missed that particular talk or decided they knew better. And now there is a baby. And forced maturity isn't necessarily deep or consistent maturity. I've seen the same thing in James and Rose. I continue to catch glimpses of their childhood not quite being as over as they think it is.

Frankly I think Josephine is just plain scared. She claims she is sick all the time. And she sees all the things that are going wrong for Patricia; she claims her mother had the same problems so she's worried it will be that way for her too. She saw how crazy Laura got although I've tried to point out that the pregnancy didn't cause that. And she sees Kitty and Cinda and what happened to them; being raised by people other than their biological parents. And now Rose and Melody hardly talk to her except for medical reasons. She's just scared and lonely.

And frankly I don't know what to say to her to make it better. "You made your bed now you're going to have to sleep in it," isn't exactly the most sympathetic way of putting it. I'm thinking that maybe Cindy or Becky over at Aldea would know how to say this stuff better. At the very least it would put some distance between her and Brandon and give them a little perspective … maybe. I'll have to see who comes to Market Day; hopefully one of the women will and I can get some news.

Speaking of Aldea, they want to remain a "hidden community." Sanctuary will be the main contact with the outside population but Aldea would remain our "ace in the hole" so to speak. The plan is to have some place to send our wounded or bolt to if Sanctuary becomes uninhabitable. An Avalon to our Camelot is what Glenn calls it … I just hope we coexist without the personality conflicts and drama.

Aldea plans to send some representatives to Market Day but they spent most of today cutting their way out. It appears that between one thing and another – damage from the hive and from NRSC movements, last year's drought, and some pretty significant microbursts during last night's storm – they had a number of large trees across their main road in and out. They are leaving some of these in place closer to the former main entrance to what used to be called Lettuce Lake Park and it will camouflage that area even more.

Scott tells me things are so overgrown in that area that you couldn't even find the entrance unless you knew it was there. All of the USF-owned land and parks around the river are all ridiculously overgrown and a lot of the buildings have been ransacked; the docks too when people were looking for wood to burn. They want to drop the main bridge on Fletcher Ave that crosses the Hillsborough River but I'm trying to envision how they will get access to the rest of town if they do that. I suppose they could try and cut a path/road through Rock Hammock and come in on the back side of the Tampa Palms Golf Course and from there go through Tampa Palms and come out onto Bruce B. Downs Blvd.

I still think that is a lot more work that I'd be up to doing, especially with good rains filling those hammocks in there with swamp water, gators, snakes, and who knows what all. And they'd still need to be able to cross the river at some point to get to that side of the hammock. Oh well, that's up to them. If it was me I'd leave the bridge on Fowler Avenue. The bridge where I75 cross the Hillsborough River has already collapsed thanks to fire damage and a couple of the supports being blown out by NRSC tanks.

It's getting late and I suppose I can't put it off any longer. I really do need to record that … that … situation Angus, Jim, and Iggy ran into over in the hospital area.

The whole purpose of Iggy wanting to go over to the hospital was to see if he could get any stuff from the pediatric wards of the hospital and pediatric doctor's offices that surround the hospital. I could understand that and we had actually gotten what we ran across when we did our own gathering run over there, though we were primarily focused on general and obstetric supplies at the time. But, Iggy's specialty is kids and he was running low on kid-sized implements and kid-measured medications. Angus is a sucker for kids as well and was all for going. Jim went along to try and keep the two men out of trouble … emphasis on the try. On the other hand Jim is just as liable to kick up his own bit of trouble so all I could do when they set out yesterday morning was to not find so much trouble they couldn't handle it between the three of them.

Seems all went well through lunch time. They had gotten more than Angus and Jim had expected they would but less than what Iggy had hoped he would find. They had run into a couple of other scavengers but no one worth the effort to run off. The Scavs were in sorry shape and were looking for edibles or drugs and not for trade goods; they looked like they were just one step above the Dirties that you occasionally see when you are out and about, those that have completely given up on any kind of cleanliness or hygiene and who seem to have lost their grip on reality.

The men were taking a break, sitting in the shade of a building that had lost the roof in a fire, quietly dining on the pan y jamon y queso and drinking zumo de naranja (that's bread, ham, and cheese with side order of orange juice and I'm using Spanish vocabulary just because I can and it tickles me to hear Scott and Iggy trilling along at light speed). Iggy leaned over to grab the last sandwich when Jim landed on him and put his hand across his mouth to keep him down and quiet while Angus pulled his shelaleigh. Creeping out the corner of the main hospital ward … through the doors of what used to be the emergency vehicle bay … came a zombie the likes of which they had never seen.

The infected was … well, you couldn't really tell if it had been male or female when it was still human. It was disfigured worse than many zombies but seemed to suffer from that condition far less. With the physical shape it was in it should have been nothing but a shambler. It was emaciate, to the point it appeared almost mummy-like. The bluejeans it wore hung in dirty tatters. The chest and abdominal area had obviously been dined on at some point as they were mostly gone; broken ribs puncturing the t-shirt clinging to it in several places. An ear and part of the scalp were missing leaving the remaining blood and gore matted hair to hang in a unisex style that fell below its shoulders.

But this zombie didn't move right. Its movements were too defined, too intentional, and worst of all too stealthy. The last gave it away. Jim and Angus looked at one another and in silent communication shared the thought "hunter."

Iggy had heard the tales told over the radio waves about the various zombie types. He was a heart beat behind Angus and Jim in understanding just what they were witnessing. And he understood that the only defense they were likely to have was to figure out who it was hunting before it picked them as a new target.

It was at that moment that the men were caught off guard for one of the few times I've ever heard about.

It's a good thing the old man grabbed Jim's ankle and not Angus' or his Viking yell would likely have brought the rest of the building down. As it was, the old man had to dodge the shelaleigh or risk a crushing blow to his head.

The old man, put his hands to his lips to shush them and shook his head and hands to make them stop. When our men had swallowed their hearts back into their chests, the old man pointed about 30 degrees to the left of the zombies' position was a woman leaning over a shopping cart full of the flotsam of days gone by. She was once a much bigger woman than she appeared to be at that point; dirty skin sagged below the armbands of her tank top and shorts showing her weight loss had been extreme and quick. Even the skin of her face appeared to sag. In the creases of her skin folds was visible the dirt of weeks from not bathing. Her chest … well, let's just say the guys were graphic and sexist in their comments concerning pendulous appendages. Not that I blame them; I've seen some of the Scavs and Dirties myself and male or female they are reaping the reward of not doing more to take care of themselves.

Something must have given the Hunter away … loose gravel maybe. The woman turned quickly, her eyes darting around, she reached into her grocery cart and after digging around a moment pulled out a decaying human arm. She quickly sliced her own arm and smeared her blood on the dead arm and tossed it as far as she could in the general direction of the Hunter.

The Hunter, freezing but a moment, ran after the thrown arm like a dog after a thrown bone. It attack the arm ferociously, but silently. In less than ten minutes, as the men watched in disgusted fascination, the Hunter devoured the arm down to bone and gristle. The men realized the woman had made a quick exit. The Hunter began scanning the area again, raising what was left of its face to the sky like it was sniffing the air. After a short hesitation, the Hunter again started tracking in the general direction the woman had left by.

The old man kept shushing them until he was sure that the Hunter was out of range. "Don't draw its attention. Don't let it get you scent. It may act like it forgets about you, but once it tracks and kills its primary target it'll come back and track you down. Them monsters remember."

Our men, having lost their own appetites, gave their lunch leftovers to the old man. He quickly inhaled the bounty and said, "Damn! You know how long it's been since I had cheese that ain't come out of a can?! You mind what I said boys. That there things been tracking that old c*** near five days. She kilt you own kids bait it off. That arm musta belonged to one of the bigger ones she used to keep tied to her. She comed from that clan of cannies that live outta Heather Lakes. They exiled her when they found out she was tagged by one them Hunter zombies."

When Angus, always a suspicious sort, asked him how he knew that the old man replied in a gapped toothed grin and said, "Son, life's hard and news travels fast. You either learn to keep your head down and hear the words on the wind or you gonna die hard and painful. Now you mind me and what I said. She's making for them folks over at the university. She's thinking she can distract the bastard by giving him a banquet. All she'll need to do is smear enough of her blood on the buildings over there to confuse it long enough to put some more distance between her and it. She's a fool, it'll get her anyway. But it could buy her another day or two in this life, such as it is."

Then the old man crept off as quietly as he arrived.

Well it was obvious – or at least obvious to a homesick Australian, a crazy Viking, and a Certifide Do-gooder – that they couldn't let the Hunter get as far as the university. That's where Steve's group was and they had women and children over there. With absolutely no debate on the subject they began tracking the Hunter.

Too bad the Hunter wasn't your normal and abysmally stupid zombie. Oh no, this variant of the NRS virus left behind a functioning brain. It also seemed to have hotwired said brain so that it was more than just feral; it was cognizant and exhibited some deviousness.

Now according to all that we've learned up to this point, the Hunter zombies are one of the rarest variants of the NRS virus. I thought maybe people had gotten bored with the garden variety zombies we've been dealing with over the last several months and started to make up boogie man stories. According to our men, it deserves its reputation and then some.

All three men had tracking experience yet they lost the zombie three times in a matter of fifteen minutes. The zombie understood the concept of hiding, silence, and scariest of all it understood backtracking.

However, it still wasn't human; it did not have all of its cognitive functions operating at full capacity. It was smart, but only in the way that some animals appear to be smart. Humans are still at the top of the food chain in brain capacity even if they occasionally get munched on by things below them on the food pyramid.

After fifteen minutes our men had had enough of being led a dance. They decided to get to some high ground to get a better idea of what was going on. A roof access ladder gave them entrance onto the top of one of the two story medical buildings within the hospital complex area.

The men had no sooner gotten into a good position when they realized the Hunter hadn't just closed the gap between the woman and itself, it had actually gotten out in front of her. She was looking behind her when she should have been looking where she was going.

It was too late. And honestly, I'm not sure I would have made the decision to keep the woman from getting her just reward after finding out she was a cannibal. There are some things in life that you just can't look the other way over whether it's your business or not.

The Hunter dropped off of a building ledge right down onto the woman. One squawk and the only sound left was the chomping and snuffling of the Hunter as it started eating her after dragging her inside the building it had jumped off of.

Any human hunter will tell you that it sucks to try and deal with a dangerous animal in a confined space, especially a confined space with potentially lots of hiding places.

Our guys could have walked away but that would have left a bigger baddie than normal wandering loose. We know there are big baddies out there but we can't always do anything about them. This big baddie our men knew about and actually had it under surveillance and it was occupied.

Taking the only chance they were likely to have they were off the roof and quickly (and quietly) maneuvering themselves to try and take the Hunter out as soon as it emerged. But it didn't come out, not then.

Jim had a clear line of sight of the woman's mangled carcass. No Hunter in sight. Given the way it had stayed long enough to annihilate the disembodied arm, even going so far as to suck out the marrow, it wasn't expected that the Hunter would munch just a little and then take off. Jim had turned to get the other two men's attention when he just had time to catch a glimpse of the Hunter pulling itself up and over the roof of the building that Angus and Iggy were using as cover.

Jim didn't even have time to yell "Move!" before the Hunter took a flying dive from the ridge vent. Jim did however just have time to aim and shoot … not aim very well, but the shot knocked the Hunter into the building wall giving Angus and Iggy time to fall back and away from the Hunter's impact point.

I won't print all the expletives the men said they were using. Most of them were pretty creative so use your imagination. Suffice it to say they were even more shocked when the Hunter got up and instead of continuing the attack as all the other zombies we have encountered would have, it leaped up and through a busted out window sending it back into a building before any of the men could get off another shot.

That thing was fast. Too fast and too dang smart. It could not be allowed to escape and procreate … or infect … or whatever terminology you want to use for making more of its kind.

The men caught their first break. The Hunter's fall and the impact of the shotgun blast had damaged it sufficiently that it was no longer moving near as quietly as it had been. From the sound alone the men could tell it was making a beeline for the front of the building to escape through the main entrance.

They ran towards to the front and had just turned the corner when the Hunter came barreling out though what remained of the glass doors. All three men poured shots into the Hunter sending it back against the large concrete block planters stationed on either side of the entryway.

The men completely destroyed the Hunter's brain, head, and even its upper body in an effort to eradicate the monster.

Angus, Jim, and Iggy said they just stood there looking at what was left of it for a full minute. A scuffle in the rubble behind them had them turning guns drawn.

The old man stood there again and said, "Kinda jumpy aren't ya?"

With that he walked over to the carcass of the Hunter and after obviously seeing if there was anything on it worth salvaging, he dropped what turned out to be a dried cow dung pile on it and then set the dung on fire. As a method of incineration it was unique. The dung did catch and the corpse and what was left of the corpse was consumed in due time.

As the old man walked off he said, "Ya might want to check on the old c*** to see if she has reanimated all the way yet. She was already starting to move around a bit when I passed by."

The three men said he was a crazy old coot … of course they didn't use the word "coot" exactly but you get my drift … and they ran back to where the cannie woman's corpse was. Or where it had been. She - no it - had indeed reanimated and had managed despite some horrific damage to drag itself out of the building and into the middle of the parking area.

This infected was no Hunter; just a garden variety shambler. It was dragging its torso along and seemed to be carrying one of its legs that had become detached. The men weren't in the mood for taking chances so Angus put a bullet in its brain from a respectable distance.

It would pick that moment for the wind to start whipping. The men noted the weather and quickly went about gathering up the last of the supplies and tossing them in the truck they had camouflaged. Someone, most likely the old man, had scribbled "wash me" in the dirt on the side of the truck as a notice that the truck hadn't been as well hidden as the men had thought. But nothing appeared to be taken despite the obvious point being made.

Rather than going straight home, Angus ran the truck by OSAG's compound to let them know what all the shooting on their perimeter had been. They've stopped by our gates to let us know they were in the our area more than once; our men were returning the courtesy and letting them know what had happen in brief, if not in detail. From there they had to make a mad dash back to Sanctuary and I've written the rest of the tale.

I've had nightmares about that stupid Hunter twice now. Like it is some kind of presentment, a prophetic dream. That kind of déjà vu I will be quite happy to live without for the rest of my days. I want none of my family or friends to be faced with that kind of monstrosity again. No one else seems to be bothered by it. All's well that ends well. I just can't seem to let this loose. Who knows why? Its not like we haven't experienced enough other nightmarish stuff to keep me awake 'til next Juvember.

I'm off to guard duty. Maybe if I can just face my fears in the dark, given time it won't be so bad.


	194. Day 240

**Day 240 (Wednesday) – March 28**

Well, I guess it's a good thing I was too busy to be tired. I didn't get much sleep last night. Guard duty, bad dreams, and worrying about Sarah having a good birthday kept me up and down all night not to mention all the lists and cross-lists I had for getting ready for Market Day which will be tomorrow. Wanna throw on there the fact that Angus and Jim are taking a "bloody holiday" the day after that and it's a wonder I'm not a complete wreck.

I think I've got it under control and no one really knows how I feel. Everyone was so focused on giving Sarah a fun day and getting ready for Market Day that I don't think they even had time to notice how I felt.

I needn't have worried about Sarah. She was just so happy to have her birthday recognized that she was bouncy and happy all day. She's a good girl, probably better than I give her credit for being sometimes. She's turning into a teenager, but I should give her more credit for at least trying to keep the angst in check. And she was so appreciative of the effort each person put in their gifts to her and was very nice about going out of her way to say something special about them to each person. Why did I not ever notice that about my own child? Lord she is growing up too fast.

And, if I lose my day job apparently I can make a pretty good living making carrot cakes. There wasn't a crumb left of the two huge sheet cakes that I made yesterday. I have to admit it was pretty good, if not what you would call a traditional kid's birthday cake flavor.

In point of fact I was very glad that I made as much as I did because we had visitors from Aldea show up. And get this, they were in an "electric car." I kid you not. Glenn was at it again. I swear that man will rewire all of Tampa before things are over and done with.

I'm not sure how all it works. I'll write it down how Glenn told it but even though I'm college educated and can usually see around the explanations folks give for how to make things work, I'm a bit of a visual learner. I'm not totally able to picture what they've got going over there in Aldea.

Basically they are taking motors and building electrical generators with them. They are building enough capacity to have lights in their walled town but Glenn said so long as the Hillsborough River has enough current in it they should be able to generate plenty of excess so that they can start some electrolysis processes. In other words the electrical current will help them to split H2O into H2 (hydrogen) and O (oxygen).

In Glenn's own words, "We can pressurize the gasses simply by raising the height of the water columns, i.e. a 10 foot high water column will result in the gas being pressurized to 4.32 PSI, 50 feet would give you 21.6 PSI and so on. The hydrogen can be stored in propane tanks, such as those used by gas grills and the larger 500+ gal propane tanks. The gas can be used just like propane for cooking (you can replace the stove burners with smaller sized gas holes and seal off the air pre-mix chamber). It can also be used in gas lanterns, gas heaters, etc. The biggest benefit is that engines can be converted to run on it using the same conversion kits that are installed to run internal combustion engines on propane. With this, we could start converting tractors to run on this and save the diesel for the scouting vehicles. Also convert a few of Sanctuary's generators to run on it, which will make electricity a less limited commodity for you...you wont be burning up irreplaceable diesel or gasoline. We can even convert some pickups to run on it and use it to ferry supplies back and forth from Aldea to Sanctuary...including filled propane/hydrogen tanks."

And then Bob and Scott wanted to know if this was the same stuff that ran oxy/acetylene torches and when they got an affirmative they both got "boy in the candy shop" grins on their faces. Scott's been rationing his tanks as much as possible but he is still down to only a couple remaining. With a renewable source I can see the two of them going slap happy building all sorts of things.

And even better, the oxygen is pure and hospital grade which means that Ski and Iggy can fill those little portable O tanks and keep them on hand for emergencies.

I left the men strutting like a bunch of banty roosters and went to give Saen, Tina, and Cindy another hug and introduce them to the few they didn't know. Becky didn't feel well so she stayed at Aldea as did Austin's Sarah and most of the others. They, like us, have to be careful about having too many people out and about at any one time. The kids were ecstatic at being all together again and made enough noise that it drew a small crowd of shamblers outside the Wall. In order to keep from upsetting the kids and spoiling their fun, James and a few of the others used Bob's prototype "stone bow" which shoots ½ ounce ball bearings. From the Wall down to the zombies, they were deadly accurate. Of course I couldn't hit the side of the barn when I had tried it out this morning but at least I didn't hurt anyone. I started to say that I still preferred my machete when Scott got that look on his face that said he didn't want to even hear about it and that I was going to practice until I could shoot the stupid thing whether I like it or not. Oh well.

It wasn't all party and games today though that's what I used to keep the kids focused and out from under foot. I did let them make ice cream and they pulled taffy as well. While they did that Betty, Reba, Saen, Tina, Cindy and I started making piles of stuff that I would take to market. We are taking a bit of a lot of stuff but not a lot of any one thing. One reason is that we don't know what is going to "sell" and what won't and don't want anything to go to waste. Another reason is we don't want to look like a plum waiting to be plucked. A third is we don't want anyone, especially groups like the ZKKs, to know everything that we have.

Reba cut a small wheel of cheese into even smaller wedges. We also have a dozen fresh eggs and two dozen pickled eggs in gallon jugs. Another gallon jug holds pickled veggies, and a fourth gallon jug holds some pickles. We've debated whether to bring any of the homemade wines or hooch but for now we have decided against it. We need to see what others are trading before we do something along those lines. I've got two baskets of peppers, both sweet and hot, to trade. I figure I'll take a couple dozen carrots, a few bunches of collard greens, some tomatoes as well. And I'm going to take a couple of pounds of popcorn and pop it there at the market square in a kettle I have. That will be for the kids if there are any.

Saen is going to Market Day and so is Austin's Sarah and they will bring a few things from Aldea but they are going to market it through us. One of the things that Saen told me about is some fish jerky they've made. And they are bringing some curry paste to trade in small batches. I know Saen has a list of things she wants and one of the items is coconut. We have a couple of coconut palms in Sanctuary but I don't think two palms are going to be enough for Saen.

Scott plans on bringing his blade sharpening equipment. Iggy is coming and wants to see what the state of the healthcare is in the area. Waleski wanted to come but doesn't feel comfortable being too far away from Sanctuary with Patricia in the condition she is in and Rhonda ready to pop any minute. I'm taking Charlene we me as well as James. Dix also intends on coming as do Angus and Jim so they can do some information gathering.

I don't really know how long we'll be at the market tomorrow. Could be an hour or two, could be all day. I'm going prepared to feed my crew at least one meal while we are there and might as well include the Aldea folks in the numbers. Probably need to be prepared in case Angus or Iggy find a hungry kid or two. That means I should probably just get a cauldron of vegetable soup going as soon as I get there.

Angus and Jim made a switch on us. Instead of taking Juicer, or even one of the other trucks, they have decided to take two of the horses … the ones that get outside the Wall the most … as well as one of the smaller mules and one of the larger burros. The horses they'll ride and the other two animals will carry their gear. They'll take a few MREs for emergencies but mostly they'll be eating the instant meals we are pulling together for them and they'll supplement that with any meat they can provide for themselves along the way. The animals will mostly forage except for a bag of feed that will be camouflaged at the bottom of the supplies. Radio transmissions will be hit or miss at best and they'll be gone at least two weeks. Lord I pray they know what they are doing; there have been some weird stories coming out of the badlands down south. It's probably just charred zombie talk but still, after the Hunter call me extra sensitive on the issue.

It's an early night for me. I have last watch from two to five and then it will be a quick run to load up and off to Market Day. Scott isn't too happy with the fact that I've been on so many night watches but what choice do we have? Even Rose and Melody are taking turns on the Wall every couple of days. Scott, Bob, and McElroy were scrubbing around in the sand talking about ways that maybe we could create an "electric fence" once Aldea has their electricity generating plant totally up and running. If they can build something like that then we can turn it on at night and not have to have quite so many guards on the Wall to make up for lack in visibility. Maybe. Better not count those chickens before they hatch.


	195. Day 241

**Day 241 (Thursday) – March 29 – MARKET DAY**

Pardon my French but gosh darn almighty! There are some males … I won't call them men even if technically they qualify by age … that deserve to have their little boy parts sent to the moon in the most painful way possible.

Well, now that I've got that off my chest I guess I should pick it up at the beginning.

Everything went super smoothly at first. Off duty at 5 am, shove a couple of breakfast empanadas in my pocket to eat on the go. Load up the back of the step van … the one we "confiscated" from the land pirates weeks ago … with all the produce and stuff we decided on for the market. Kiss the kids and give them their marching orders for the day. Make sure our radios are tuned and our weapons ready and then out the Rear Gate.

Every day the suburbs are looking more and more rural again. A few of the houses you can tell people have tried at some recent point to make habitable; some have been successful, some have moved on for whatever reason. The Florida jungle is taking over and by the time summer arrives in earnest a lot of the houses will simply have disappeared and been taken over by the overgrown yards and creeping vines.

Even the roads are starting to disappear. Limbs have fallen from trees and lay in the middle of the road. A couple of large trees have been lain over as well … some intentional in a vain attempt to block off neighborhoods but most just a result of wind and weather and other natural phenomena. Hulks of cars line the roads as well but most still look decent enough if you don't pay attention to the cracked windshields and missing doors; or the occasional decaying corpse strapped in or hanging out.

When you get closer to the hospital and university building destruction is an even greater problem. We've done our fair share of infrastructure damage too where we collected all of the utility poles that we could, whether metal or wood. Structural fires have also been a major problem as has the months of looting that has gone on. Many looters and scavengers, either in anger or apathy, have tossed stuff out of doors and windows all over the place.

Scott led our people to rendezvous with the Aldea folks at the corner of Fletcher Avenue and 50th Street. From there we headed south on 50th Street to Elm Drive which was one of the side entrances to the USF campus and the closest to the USF Sun Dome. Or should I say what used to be the USF Sun Dome. The Sun Dome itself was a burned out hulk. They had tried to use it as an evacuation and staging area for the university students that were stuck on campus when things collapsed but all of the equipment was too big a temptation and the looters and rioters hit hard and fast; and then the zombies came.

The market was being formed on McEwen Field. The red clay and turf of the baseball stadium had proved unfruitful ground for the normal grasses and weeds that flourish in this part of Florida. The parking lots that surround the area further held the jungle at bay, although just barely.

Representatives from OSAG were already out there setting up a perimeter. The agreement was that OSAG would provide some security and organization for the market in exchange for a "fee." Each group was also to be responsible for their own people, but having some structure to the event did help, especially for the smaller groups or individuals that wouldn't have left their area without some assurances. And frankly, no one wanted to hack off Steve and his group. One bad word from OSAG could very well spell the death knell for an individual or group who got a bad reputation. There is a reason why radio and communication is such a powerful medium, even in the society we live in today.

After making sure that we didn't need his help setting up, Dix went over to deliver our "fee." I had tucked some things in for the OSAG kids, they got a couple of jugs of mead, and some honey and comb that I had poured into mason jars.

While Dix did the meet and greet thing the rest of us set up. It was really nice to see Sarah. She looked a little thinner than last time I saw her and she really didn't need to lose any more weight but with the heat and all the work they had doing at Aldea I can't say I was surprised. I got hugs from some of the other young bucks from Aldea that I hadn't seen in a while either. My goodness all of them were looking rougher but I guess that wasn't such a bad thing. If you look too "civilized" people might think you aren't tough enough or some such silliness.

As I turned this over in my mind I looked around expecting to see Matlock but instead Glenn was there. He and Scott were in a pretty heavy conversation and when I turned to ask Sarah about it her face got very solemn and said that I'd be better off hearing it from Glenn or one of the guys.

I knew that trying to push wouldn't mean that I'd hear any faster. There is just no pushing that man when he isn't ready to be pushed; Scott can be worse than a Tennessee mule. Instead, I had Charlene help set up our tables and had James set up the tripod for the cauldron of soup I wanted to start on as soon as possible.

By the time she and I finished getting a few samples set up and reorganizing the back of the van so that we could measure out stuff for a trade, James had finished his job and had even started a fire for me. Luckily for my nerves Scott and Glenn walked over and pulled me to the side. Scott had James keep an eye on things as a good handful of other groups had arrived and begun to set up as well.

Matlock and Dante' had a fight, a pretty bad one apparently. We aren't just talking verbal, there were some major blows exchanged. I never would have thought Dante' had it in him, especially with his leg and all but I guess Tina's stories about him being a "ragin' Cajun" before the kids came along weren't an exaggeration. Unfortunately it seems that not just his temper came back. Dante' used to drink quite a bit as well and this time it got him into some serious trouble.

I've already written that Dante' and Tina have been having problems. Apparently late last night Dante' had gotten a real snoot full and started harassing Tina again about having another baby. Well, you can guess without me saying that it went from bad to worse. Set up like they are in Aldea, there aren't a whole lot of secrets and it only took one scream from Tina to have the men running. Anyone that's been a counselor or LEO knows what transpired next. She's crying he's telling them it's none of their business. Yada yada yada. Only Dante' isn't a nice drunk … that's one of the reasons why he stopped drinking in the first place. As nice as he is sober he is mean as a snake after he's had a drink or two.

As tight a community as we've had up to this point we really haven't had but a few problems. This one though, you just don't let a man get away with that kind of crap. They tossed him in one of the storage containers that was empty to sleep it off.

Tina is a mess; shades of what Samson did to her and all that. The men even were talking about exiling him and that made Tina do a 180 and beg them not to. And when he woke up this morning Dante' was all contrition and crying and begging Tina to forgive him, etc. Like I said, almost page for page like most domestic calls back before all heck broke loose. I'm not sure what to make of it. I've lost some respect for the man that's for sure but he's been under a tremendous strain … his wife raped by a land pirate (don't get me started on what you would call what Dante' did) and his daughter going crazy and then dead and sanitized before his very eyes. But we've all been through some awful crap and …

I'm trying not to be judgmental but it's hard. Our community is so small that something that would normally not be our business can't help but be our business these days. I guess the main question is whether Tina and the members of our two communities can still rely on Dante' or if he's passed some point of no return. Certainly there has to be some kind of consequences for his actions but there has to be a chance at redemption as well; well, at least in my personal opinion. The ultimate redemption will be up to Tina.

I was still digesting the news when the first person came by to look at our wares. It was a man with a young boy. The boy, except for his age, was the spitting image of Bubby. Even James and Charlene noticed it. But this boy lacked Bubby's devil-may-care attitude. In fact this boy was nearly expressionless and refused to leave the man's shadow or even relinquish the hand he held. Both were hollow eyed and simply stared.

Scott noticed the man staring and walked over and asked if he was looking for anything in particular. In a voice that didn't sound like it got used much these days he said, "I'm needing work. I'll work for food for my son. It doesn't matter what."

God this was much harder than I thought it was going to be. Scott looked over at Glenn and Dix who just started right back at him. Scott looked at me to check whether there was enough in the soup pot and I gave him what I hoped was a barely discernable nod in the affirmative. "Know anything about cars?"

The man had to clear his throat but he finally got out, "I sold them. Down in Brandon at the Ford dealership."

The man's name is Conrad Correl and his son is Roddy. I gave them both some water to start with and by mid-morning Conrad was getting along fine with Scott and the others. Seems cars were not just his job but were his hobby too. And when the government really started with their efforts to change the car industry Conrad had the sense to start trying to be careful of his career path. He and some of his buddies even went so far as to build a wood burning truck. I guess it is call wood-gasification or some such. You're still dependent on wood for fuel but it did run, or so he claimed. Of course that went over like fireworks on the fourth of July.

They weren't the only folks that were there and hard up but Conrad had gotten their first and been brave enough to step up and ask for work rather than just a hand out. I felt bad about having to turn some of the others away but there is only so much to go around and we have to be careful of our resources. As hard as it is sometimes you just have to say no.

Luckily however, he was the only one with a kid. If anyone else had had a child with them I'm not sure how easy it would have been to say no.

I was dying to go look and see what other folks had. Dora, the soap lady, was a few stalls down, and was doing a good business. I wanted to get over there before all her stock was gone. I sent Charlene over to see if she would hold back some if I promised her some honey. Of course I didn't want her to say the "H" word out loud but wrote it on a note.

Charlene went back and forth and few times while Dora and I dickered on a price of exchange. While this was going on I guess is when a group of punks from the ZKKs had shown up. I didn't notice them … until they did one of those stupid acts of surrounding Charlene and saying what a pretty girl she was and all.

No one touches or harasses one of ours. They might as well have been putting their dirty paws on Rose, Sarah, or Bekah. No way was I going to let that go down without a challenge. And neither was James.

While satisfying on a personal level, violence isn't always the best immediate reaction to a potentially hostile opponent. The object is to come out of any confrontation whole and unscathed. I used to shake my head at some of our tenants (and their kids) because violence and destruction seemed to be a way of life for them that only caused them to spiral down further and further. Yet here I was ready, willing, and after all that I've been through able to do the same thing.

However, I didn't get a chance … at least not then. OSAG really were committed to fulfilling their duties and earning their fee.

Steve and a couple of his men were there before James and I even cleared the table. One of the guys put his hand out in a "stop" motion and I guess as trained as I was to follow basic rules I automatically did. I had to grab James' arm but he stopped two steps after I did.

Steve asked Charlene in a calm manner, "Would you like to go back over to your table?"

Charlene answered emphatically, "Yes!"

The punks made a big show of laughing and letting her go. "Man, we were just having a little fun. We didn't mean any harm."

Steve continued, still in a calm but I'm-in-control-manner, "Ok, but it didn't look like the young lady understood that. So everyone can have some fun we've got a few rules posted over at the entrance that you must have missed. One of them is no harassing any of the females."

He continued talking to the young men in a calm and non-confrontational way. I guess that was what was commonly called "de-escalating."

I don't think the punks were near as harmless in their intent as they made themselves out to be but the way Steve and his group handled it the punks got a chance to back down in the face of superior force with their pride still relatively intact. That time. Given what happened later I can't say much for their intelligence.

Even in hindsight I can understand why Steve handled it the way he did. There were a lot of innocent bystanders on the field. Shots fired could have hit someone with no ill intent behind it. Not to mention the creation of zombies, or attracting zombies with unnecessary noise, really wasn't a goal to work towards.

Our men, while riled up, kept themselves under control and allowed Steve and his group to handle it. James on the other hand was having a very hard time. You could just see the blood boiling right beneath the surface. Poor kid, got the worst of both Scott and I and wasn't yet old enough to have the experience and wisdom to let it go before it ate him up. In a sense I guess it was good he was on edge it came in handy. Later.

After making a couple of more trades mostly for a few bullets and a rifle scope, I got the chance to go around to the other booths. Charlene was content to stay with our tables. Scott, who had already been on a circuit of what was available said he would stay with her. Of course Sarah was there and were the young bucks from Aldea so I didn't worry about it. It was James I wanted to take with me so he could walk off some of the ants in his pants and burn off some of the testosterone by playing guard.

I don't really mean to belittle him. Lord knows I've done the same thing to Scott a time or two. And he really did need to get up and move. He was wound tighter than a watch spring. After checking with Scott and Dix, James made quite a show of make sure it was obvious he was my security detail. If he hadn't been so serious – and Scott so patently proud of him – I might have laughed. Not that I wasn't glad to have the back-up but I've just never been the frail little female type. I enjoy being taken care of, but not to the point where I'm handicapped by it.

I tucked some stuff I had set aside specifically for trading and went straight over to Dora's table. I was determined to get some of that soap; and I did. We made a good trade and James and the older boy she has adopted shared their opinion of the ZKKs which wasn't very high. Both told the other to watch their backs and keep their eyes open. I never did hear what the boy's name was, I keep forgetting to ask James.

Next couple of stalls didn't really hold anything of interest for me. One stall was mainly clothes and for now we had plenty of those of all sizes. When Angus, Jim, and Iggy had hit the medical facilities again they even grabbed armloads of scrubs and the like. Next wash day I can see having tubs upon tubs of those things going. A few were mildewed and a couple even looked like they'd been munched on by rodents but most of them were in fairly good condition if not pristine. No, definitely didn't need clothes. The stall after that was a bunch of small motors. That I left to those interested in that stuff.

Now the third stall down for Dora was another story. The man and woman running this stall specialized in two things and only two things; shoes and hats. Most of the hats were commercially manufactured ones that they must have been collecting for a while. There were also woven hats made of palmetto fronds. The thing that really drew my interest however were the shoes. Samuel really did need a new part of shoes. He only had the one and they were wearing out from constant use and were pinching his toes. I asked the man if he had any sixteens and he sighed and said no, I was the second person to ask him that today. Turns out Dix had already come over and asked the same question. But then he said he'd be willing to make some moccasins if we had a drawing of his footprint.

I told the man we had better than that, we had the boy himself. Samuel had ridden with Dix but hadn't felt all that great and had stayed back with the men. Samuel wasn't a people person and all these unknown folks in a fenced in area had really affected him. No amount of coaxing by Dix had been able to get him to leave our group. Well, I just wasn't going to give him the option of refusing me.

Towing James I headed back to our tables, dropped off the soap, got Dix's permission I told Samuel – not ask, told – to come with me so he could get measured for a pair of moccasins. He opened his mouth once and I gave him the ol' "Spock eyebrow thing" my mom used to give us … you know where you get that look where one eyebrow is raised above a steely glare that just dares you to keep doing what you are doing … and he grumped his way up and came with James and I back to the shoe stall.

It took a little dickering on the price, and I had to part with more honey than I had intended as well as nearly a pound of greens, but before market day was done Samuel had a pair of moccasins that were well made, fit, and had some growing room in them. The soles are made from tires but the rest of the moccasins are purely authentic. The stitches were small and nice and tight. The man had been a shoe repairman in his previous life and if the moccasins held up I could see us having further trades with him and his woman.

There were another couple of stalls that didn't appeal to me, mostly old camping gear and whatnot that we already had plenty of and other household items that we could probably duplicate ten times over by digging around in our own storage. The stall after that one was a van full of canned foods and it was receiving quite a bit of attention but honestly, I didn't like the look of some of the cans they had out for trade. Caveat emptor I guess.

The stall after that one drew James up short and left him with his mouth hanging open. I didn't know whether James was staring at the girls or what they were selling.

There were eight or nine of the prettiest little Asian beauties; petite, dark haired, dark eyed and wearing full traditional garb. The twist was that the traditional garb that they were wearing was archery garb. They had two "guardians"; a middle aged male and an older female. I elbowed James and told him to shut his mouth before something nasty flew in. Samuel wasn't much better but I still don't understand how such a big boy can give the impression that he was peeking out from around me.

A poster leaning against a mule drawn wagon said that the group was Korean and had one several medals for their archery. The girls were showing off their prowess and their skill was incredible. The language barrier was nearly insurmountable but even so it was obvious that the man and woman were fletchers.

I stood there and watched James get a little silly checking out the archery equipment … really, the equipment and not the girls. I had a hard time not laughing and I could tell the Korean girls had a hard time not smiling. The old woman … she must have been something like a duena or chaperone for the girls … looked at me and gave a small smile and nod.

It's a good thing that I had a girlfriend in college that had a Korean mother. I had a slight advantage that I intended to use. James wanted a couple of those Asian arrows. He wouldn't ask for them knowing they would be a luxury but I wanted to see if I could get him one or two. Cabbage, radishes, cucumbers, soybeans, and rice are all staples of Korean cooking; especially the cabbage for kimchi. I don't know how they were feeding their group but they all looked pretty thin; we all do these days but being strangers in a strange land would make it even harder for them.

I nodded at the old woman and then asked James to walk me back to our tables. You could almost hear him cringe to have to leave those arrows behind. With James safely occupied under Glenn's supervision I took my choices out of our van, put them in my basket, and then pulled Scott aside and explained things. He was agreeable, James more than pulls his weight around Sanctuary, and we walked back to the archers.

I walked up to the old woman, lifted and then sat the basket down on the table and lifted the lid. I still have no idea what she said but with a little dickering a deal was struck and we walked away with a dozen arrows. We would only have gotten half that if Scott hadn't thrown in sharpening all of their knives. Everyone was satisfied with the transaction and when we got back and Scott showed James what we had … well, I'm marking this day down as one of the few instances that James was left completely speechless. That boy could debate a stump into full rot, but this time all he did was hug his dad's neck and tell us thank you.

Of course now that we had seen to Samuel and James I needed to do something for the rest of them, especially Charlene who was right there with us.

Grown Sarah offered to watch the table so that Scott could take both Charlene and I around and we could do some more looking. I was appreciative and once again loaded my basket before we headed off. For the girls we found them brand new, still in the package, hairbrush sets. Since we were buying several the man even through in a bunch of hair ties. That cost me nearly a pound of dried fruit but it will be worth it, those girls go through rubber bands way too fast for my comfort. For the little girls we also traded for plastic barrettes to keep the hair from their face.

The little boys got their own felt hats with brims courtesy of a stall run by a Mexican family. Scott hit it off with them and it wasn't long before he realized that they lived in an apartment building adjacent to where our properties are … were. When they started talking about how this person had died and how that person had died and Scott recognized some of the names from the old neighborhood he got real quiet. That transaction cost me my best hot peppers but again, I figured the cost to be well worth it. The boys will really appreciate those hats come this summer with the sun really starts streaming down in their faces.

David was in desperate need of a new belt. Or at least he needed a new buckle. It had broken just the other day and I kept catching him hitching up his pants. It seems that somehow we've misplaced all the shoelaces and belts we had. I know they have to be there someplace; the question is in which storage container are they in. Now that the gardens take up so much of my time I haven't gotten near finished with the inventory I was making of everything in those containers. Now we are paying the price for it; having to trade for something we could very well have on hand already. Didn't have to take a thing out of my basket for that trade; the man asked for Scott to sharpen his knives and scissors that he used to cut leather with. Those sharpening wheels have paid for themselves several times over.

And that led me to realize I hadn't seen the peddlers – the ones that Tasha had run off with. I'll have to have Sarah tell Cindy. In fact, we have seen or heard of them since Ski fixed up the headman's grandson. Maybe they are just out of the area, but these days you just never know if the last time you saw someone was the last time you would ever see someone.

Charlene still hadn't seen anything to suit her fancy and we were just about to give up and head back to the table when she saw it. I swear it nearly broke my heart. It was a little junky, homemade ceramic thing; somebody probably made it in a hobby class. A silly man reclined on a park bench wearing a fancy coat and a crown. A bird with a supercilious look on its faced stared down at the man from where it perched on the back of the bench. Written around the base was "I am king no matter where I may lay."

Charlene didn't talk about her brother much these days but you could see that this little knick knack must have sparked her memories. The last I saw of "King Al" he was walking away dressed in that awful costume with both his consorts dressed equally as odd. I nudged Scott who was looking at some old wood working magazines. The silly little ceramic figure only cost us a pickled egg but you would have thought that it was a diamond the way Charlene held it tucked up close to her.

Except for a few more miscellaneous stalls there was no more I wanted to see. Scott walked us back to the tables and then he and a couple of the other men went back to two of the bigger set ups. One was a gunsmith with a whole set up to do reloading; you traded him empty shells and cartridges and depending on the caliber and availability for every so many empties you get one reload. The other stall had all sorts of radio parts and gadgets.

With our purchases over with I refocused on getting rid of what he had brought for trade. It wasn't really the produce and grains that we did the best business on but the readymade food items. The pickled eggs and pickled veggies were gone before the market was over. So were the small, dense quick breads and cupcakes.

But I'd no sooner think I was getting rid of everything than Iggy would walk over with a basket of odds and ends. He had a station where he was doing what he could for anyone that needed some first aid. The kids he would treat free; the adults he would charge. And people paid and gladly. We got eggs and even another chicken.

A boy must have run home after seeing Iggy because a he and another boy came in carrying a woman, their mother. She had a wound on her leg from a dog bite that he had to lance and treat. The boys didn't have much and Iggy wasn't going to say anything but the older of the two insisted on giving Iggy a quart jar full of minnows and tadpoles. Iggy just handed them to me with a look on his face that said "I haven't got a clue what to do with these but don't hurt the boy's pride."

I'm a mom, I couldn't help myself. I looked at the boy and said, "As great a bunch of mosquito eaters as these are going to grow up to be I sincerely hope you weren't wading in dirty water to catch them."

"Oh no ma'am. Momma would skin me if I did that. 'Sides, there's gators in the canals now. I have a kiddy pool full of these things. I use them to go jigging with off the bridge." And he ran back to his mother who was already beginning to feel some relief from the swelling in her leg that she had been experiencing.

It wasn't long after that we began to pack everything up. It was around 2:30 or so I'd say. Jim and Angus were done some dealing with the gunsmith. I expect from the satisfied look on their faces that the mead they brought for trade had gotten them the goods they were looking for. We loaded our purchases and the bits and pieces that didn't sell. Then we said our goodbyes to the OSAG people that were still there. Steve and Shorty had headed out ahead of us and I thought I wasn't going to get to say bye to them.

We were just to the point where we were going to split from the Aldea folks, us heading to Sanctuary and them to their home, when we heard heavy gunfire up ahead of us. We immediately pulled off into an adjacent parking lot and got our vehicles into a defensive circle.

Every one of us goes armed in some way. That is the unfortunate truth of our current reality. Sure, I'd love it to be back to the way things used to be, but that was then and this is now. We live in a urban area (formerly anyway), we've been subjected to various and sometimes intense examples of civil unrest, and we are dealing with NRS infected corpses.

I personally don't know how Dix and some of the other men could tell the difference in the gunfire but those in the know said it was gunfire and returning gunfire. NRS infecteds don't fire guns, I'd yet to even witness one capable of consciously using even the crudest of tools. That meant some form of "civil unrest."

When I heard that Dix had ordered James up a tree to try and get a look-see beyond the view blocking debris in front of us I was not pleased. When I found out Scott is the one who made the initial suggestion I was flabbergasted and had to bite my tongue to stop from giving him some Southern Belle What For. Later, after Scott caught me in a calmer moment and nothing bad came of it he explained his reasons but it was still a hard pill to swallow. Samuel was too big, he would likely have broken the branches of the tree and James is also a much better shot … and faster shot. James is faster period so sending him up just made more sense, especially after the way Samuel had been acting all day.

I didn't want either boy to be sent up a tree in such a situation and wouldn't have done it. But that's me and I'm not the one in charge; at least I wasn't that time. Another time I might very well be and then I could try it my own way.

James shimmied down even faster than he had climbed up and ran over to report. Two OSAG vehicles looked like that had been ambushed, possibly one man down but he was still moving … James said cussing from the looks of it … while someone was wrapping his upper arm.

Dix and Glenn put on their "evil twin" looks and said that a little payback was due. In this instance everyone knew he meant paying back the favors that OSAG had done.

The strategy was fairly straight forward. Glenn and Dix would lead their teams – I will not repeat what Angus and Jim had to say on the intelligence of whoever thought they were bad enough to take on the triune of OSAG, Sanctuary, and Aldea – and sneak in behind the ambushers. At the same time Scott was going to make his way to OSAG with James providing cover fire from his position if necessary and tell them what was going down. At a mike keyed signal that would let Scott know that Aldea and Sanctuary forces were in place, OSAG and our people would spring the trap. Whoever the ambushers were they would be caught between two fully armed defensive forces … they'd be caught between a rock and a hard place. The terms were unconditional surrender or death.

Yeah, I know some would think offering any kind of terms of surrender – even unconditional – would be too lenient; but we are supposed to be the good guys. We really want to be the good guys.

In this instance however we never got the chance to be the good guys. There were only the bad guys and us. Neither side gave quarter, as a result the ambushers were quickly routed with only two survivors who ran off. From my vantage point I had hadn't seen the two runners but James jumped down from the top of the step van and ran over to the side skidding into one of the fleeing ambushers. Another one popped up and went to grab Sarah – presumably as a hostage – and once again my temper got the best of me.

I tossed my rifle at Charlene and using the flat side of my machete I hit the young man on the top of his head pretty hard as he was trying to stand up and drag Sarah off. He musta seen stars and bars, I'm afraid I dented him a bit. I don't remember actually saying this as I was just to fired up but everyone swears I did. I'll put it down but I think they might have embellished it up a bit.

Supposedly I said something to the effect, "Unless you want to go looking for your little boy parts on the moon you will stop what you are doing right this second."

All I can conclusively say is that by the time Scott and a couple of the guys from OSAG ran over both men were on the ground and spread eagle with James covering them.

It was quite a ruckus all right. Some of the fatalities included the ZKKs that had accosted Charlene at the market.

The LEOs that made up some of OSAG's membership said that the ZKKs were exhibiting typical gang behaviors. Their end, because they didn't have more self-control, was inevitable. People that go looking for trouble invariably find it. Gone are the days of assumed capacity for redemption of the delinquents in our midst. Consequences are hard and immediate, reminiscent of what would have been found by similar miscreants in the Old West and during the pioneering eras of our country.

We turned the two surviving ZKKs over to OSAG, they were the ones that were originally attacked. They also have personnel trained in dealing with criminals and interrogation. We will need whatever information they can obtain. My personal problem is that I'm not sure I want to know how they obtain the information and at this time I'm glad not to have to deal with that part of it. That might be cowardly but that's just the way it is.

Dark would be here too soon and our groups needed to get home. OSAG already had a cleanup detail working the site so we left them to it and headed away with Steve's assurance that we'd know as soon as they did what the situation was.

There really isn't that much left of the day worth journaling about. Aldea's group went their way and we went ours, both of us keeping an eye peeled for any stray ZKK members. Home again, home again, and the gates were opened to admit us and then shut to keep the rest of the world out. Lots of hugs and kisses and sharing of information and gossip. Dix and the men, and I guess I well and truly have to include James in their number now, went off to discuss the new situation with the rest of our security forces and to check to see if we needed to make any alterations.

I organized the unloading of our trade items. Scott and I decided to save the children's prizes for tomorrow as a way to distract them from Uncle Angus and Uncle Jim leaving.

Another change in plans … or maybe not change, just a wrong assumption on my part … is that the big dogs Mischief and Mayhem are going to be staying with us here in Sanctuary. Angus said the dogs were too big and were not built for long distance travel by paw. Instead they are taking Scrappy … that crazy little dog that followed Angus home from his bear hunt. Scrappy is half feral and has already proven himself capable of surviving on his own should he get separated from his humans. Another bonus is that he'll eat less than the two big dogs will. That leaves us the big dogs to use as night guards thereby addressing some of the fact that we are more vulnerable then and have fewer guards to shore the situation up.

The men will leave at first light. I hope to be up and about before they hit the road but they aren't waiting on anyone. Everyone said their goodbyes tonight. Too hard on Angus and Jim to try and say goodbye to all the kids equally in the morning so I can almost bet they'll be standing at the gate to try and escape before the kids are even up.

Which brings me to the end of this day. Scott has another hour of guard duty and then he'll be home. That gives me just enough time to finish washing up and put away what little bit I haven't finished. We want to spend some time together before tomorrow gets here.


	196. Day 242

**Day 242 (Friday) – March 30 – Jim and Angus going on a walk about**

Breakfast was so full of long faces that I just about couldn't eat. Luckily for me however, breakfast was just too good to forego. Lordy we ate good this morning; poached eggs (hard or soft, your choice), tomato fritters, home-style country gravy, and whole grain toast. Betty had to cull another one of the chickens yesterday – it broke a wing and would have gotten pecked to death in short order anyway if she hadn't – so we also had chicken sausage patties.

Betty, Reba, and I decided the day was too nice and there was too much work to let the kids sit and do nothing but mope because Angus and Jim had taken off. We had just split them up for indoor chores and outdoor chores when a commotion at the Rear Gate signaled visitors.

In short order a vehicle from Aldea drove in. It was Matlock and he'd driven some of the women and younger folks over for a visit and to help in the garden. The women included Saen, Anne, and Tina. It had been a long time since I had seen Anne and Tina. Anne looked just about the same … full of sass and vinegar … but Tina had a pretty good size bruise on her face and looked like she had lost another anywhere from 10 to 15 pounds.

With all of the hello's and good-to-see-you's out of the way we reorganized. Reba took Saen and Tina to show them the cheese making process. Betty got the older kids and headed to the wild fruit grove. I took most of the rest of the kids with me out to the gardens to start bringing in all the tomatoes that were ready for harvest.

Tina was looking lost and I asked her if she needed a rest or had something in particular she wanted to do. She just sort of stood there not saying anything. I glanced over at Saen and Anne as they were walking away and they just shrugged their shoulders. I guess she's been like this off and on since night before last when Dante' came unglued all over her. Well, the women in my family generally think that work and sweat has a way of bleeding the poison off so I rather unceremoniously plopped a straw hat on Tina's head, put a basket on her arm, and pulled her after me.

I explained to the kids that I wanted each kind of tomato to have its own crate until I could figure out exactly which ones would go in which recipes. Tina didn't say a word for over an hour. Given how warm it's started to get already I try and make sure that the kids take a five minute break every hour they are working out of doors. I called time out and the Aldea kids followed the Sanctuary kids over to the cooler of switchel that I had made up.

Switchel is an old fashioned drink my grandmother used to make for the tobacco field hands. If you drink too much cold water after you've gotten real hot you stomach can cramp up something awful. I've done it and puked my guts up and then gotten even more dehydrated than I was to start with. But if you drink cold switchel, you can drink all you want or need without the bad side effects.

Switchel is basically a ginger drink. You add vinegar, ginger, and sweetener to water and you wind up with this kind of … well … it's almost like a gingerfied lemonade tasting thing. That's about as good a description as I can come up with even after all these years of drinking it fairly regularly. Not everyone likes it, but then again, not everyone likes ginger ale either. It can bite if you put too much ginger in the mix. I'm glad as heck that I started those pots of gingerroot when the kids were little; we were making a craft to go with a lit unit on the Harry Potter series of books of all things.

Anyway … I had the ginger, the vinegar, and the sweetener (I used a combination of honey and molasses that gave it a dark flavor) and the kids' thirst was slacked a lot better than if I had just made a bunch of Koolaid or some other kind of sugary drink. I grabbed a cup for myself and then brought one for Tina as well.

While we were sipping Tina finally spoke. "He's not a bad man. He hasn't fallen off the wagon since the kids were babies."

I didn't know what to say so I just looked like I was listening. "I just don't want any more kids. Not right now. Maybe not ever. Bo is enough for me. I couldn't deal with it if we had … another child … with L-L-Laura's problems. I …. "

The way she said Laura's name made it sound like she wasn't used to saying it very much. "Tina, I know that you think I was mean to Laura … no I know you know now that it was a misunderstanding but let me finish … but you are right about one thing. Laura had some serious issues for whatever reason. The thing we don't know is if any of that could have been mitigated if we'd had access to psychotropic drugs."

"Does it really matter? We didn't and we still don't. And even if we did, how do I justify bringing a child into the world right now? For God's sake we shoot zombies nearly every day and then there are land pirates, raiders, we've got a civil war brewing out west, and now it sounds like we are going to have to deal with gangs and who knows what else before this is all over with. And what if this isn't ever all over with? What if this is the world that our kids are inheriting and this is the way it is going to be from now on?" she asked, trying to keep her voice down so the kids wouldn't overhear us.

"I tossed my broken crystal ball out months ago. I haven't a clue when or even if things will get back to the normal we used to know. But whether you have another baby with Dante' should be a mutual decision and not just as a way to please one or the other." Thinking of baby Cinda I asked, "If it really comes down to you not wanting to create a baby with the genetic predisposition that Laura had, have you considered adopting?"

"Dante' asked that to but I just don't know that I can right now. I really don't think we're ready for that. Laura hasn't … hasn't … It hasn't been that long since we l-l-l-lost her. Dante' thinks that another baby will help ease our grief. I don't know that I've even begun to grieve for her. The shameful truth is that I'm relieved. Isn't that awful. My own daughter. My own flesh and blood and all I can say is that I'm relieved."

I put my arm around her as tear leaked down her starkly pale face. "Tina, I don't know that I'd call it awful exactly but I will say it doesn't sound like you are ready for the physical reality of being pregnant. You're too thin and you've got too much going on in your head. You need to take care of you before you can take care of a baby."

She sighed and it was time that I got the kids back to work. I told her to just sit for a while longer and catch her breath and I set the kids their next rows to harvest. I tell you the truth, I was glad of the help even if it did mean watching over Tina to make sure she wasn't going to fall apart. This was our biggest harvesting day ever and I never would have been able to get it all in if it hadn't been for the extra kids underfoot. Let's see we harvested Thai Green and Rosa Bianca eggplants; in the pepper patches we picked Anaheim Chilis, Caribbean Reds, Chiltepins, El Chacos, Hungarian Hot Wax peppers, Jalapenos, Jamaican red hots, Long Red Cayennes, Red Hot Chilis, and Tobasco hot peppers. The tomatoes were coming out of our ears and I'll be canning tomatoes until next juvember at this rate. We picked Ace tomatoes, Amish Paste tomatoes, Brown Berry tomatoes, Cherry Roma grape tomatoes, golden girl tomatoes, golden queen yellow tomatoes, green zebra tomatoes, Italian heirloom paste tomatoes, red cherry tomatoes, orange cherry tomatoes, plum lemon tomatoes, red pear tomatoes, red zebra tomatoes, roma paste tomatoes, black Russian tomatoes, Mennonite pink tomatoes, tigerella tomatoes, and watermelon beefsteak tomatoes. And then came the turnips. The kids were a hoot; they'd pull on the turnips and then suddenly the root would pop out of the ground and a littles butt would hit the ground. They always looked so surprised when this happened that it made even Tina laugh.

Through each break Tina talked a little more though at lunch time, when we all came back together to eat some of Betty's wonderful red beans and rice, she got quiet again. One of the last conversations we had before they went home was where she asked me to talk to Matlock for her. Well, I wasn't doing that. I told her I go with her but that if things were as bad as all that then she needed to show him that she was serious.

I asked Scott to get Matt to meet us at his and Becky's old house. Scott wasn't best pleased, he doesn't like it when I start "meddling." He always expects me to get hurt somehow.

Didn't seem Matlock was too happy with things either but in the end I managed to get Tina to explain to help that she didn't want Dante' exiled. She loved him but she did need some help until she was sure she could (or even if she could) trust him again. I hate the whole soap opera-like quality of what is going on but with our communities so small we've got to be able to come up with solutions to the inevitable problem broken relationships. If it's not at the adult level, certainly the teens and young singles may eventually face this.

You can't rush healing a broken relationship. I don't even know whether Tina has taken the time to get angry about what happened or if she is capable of getting angry about it right now. If she does eventually get angry Dante' better be prepared to take it, not just for his own transgressions but for what Samson did to her and for the whole Laura situation as well. Thinking about that I'm actually feeling a little pity for Dante'. Tina is small but she's just as Cajun as Dante' is … I have a feeling she'll be a match for him in more ways than one.

Before the Aldea folks left I had a quick conference with Saen and Anne to let them know what was going on. Anne punched me in the shoulder … and it hurt dang it. When I asked her why she said because I'm a meddlesome old busybody and we both started laughing so hard we could barely stop before the men caught wind of it. Saen was laughing nearly as hard but she looks so ladylike when she does it you can hardly tell. My sympathies go with Glenn and Lee … they may be bald by the time their earthly life is over, but they'll likely die happy and satisfied. Man those two are spicy women.

We boxed up some of the fresh tomatoes, hot peppers, and other produce for them to take back to Aldea but not nearly as much as I had expected. Seems their garden is going fairly well and they were more after the change of scenery and getting their supplies topped off than really being in actual need of anything.

After they'd driven out of sight, Betty and Reba showed me the fish jerky and gas canisters that Aldea had brought. I'd heard banging and clanging off and on all day and it turns out that Iggy and Scott were having lots of man-fun playing with their new torch set up. What is it about men and fire anyway?

By the time I had duly admired all of the metal bits and pieces that I was clueless as to what they were, it was time for dinner to get made. I told Betty I'd take her turn if she would check on Patricia and Rhonda to see if they would be coming to the dinner table.

I decided that we'd had our meat allotment at breakfast so I'd fake them out by making "veggie" burgers and no one would be the wiser. I made a spicy lentil burger this time. The guys are getting less nervous about what they might find on their plates at dinner – they're so hungry from all their work I'm not sure they'd care what I served them some days – but they still get a little aggrieved when there isn't any meat in the meal. This burger is spicy enough that I think they forget to check to see if it is meat or not.

This is the version of the recipe I used to use at home. It made six servings. I've got to double, double, and double some more these days but the patties are still good.

1/2 cup washed & sorted Lentils

1/2 lb. Red Potatoes, peeled & cubed (equivalent in canned)

1/4 tsp Sea Salt (I used regular table salt)

1/2 cup Shredded Carrot (I used mashed, canned carrots)

1/2 cup Peas (I used canned peas)

4 tsp Canola Oil

1/2 cup Finely Chopped Onion

1/2 tsp Ground Cumin

1/2 tsp Ginger, peeled & minced

1/4 tsp Mustard Seed (optional)

1/8 tsp Cayenne Pepper

1/4 tsp Curry Powder

3 cloves Garlic, minced (I used dried minced garlic)

2 tsp Cilantro

1/4 cup (uncooked) Brown Rice

1/4 cup Egg (equivalent in rehydrated powdered eggs if you don't have fresh)

1/2 cup Plain Bread Crumbs

First you combine the dried lentils with the potatoes in a medium saucepan. You cover them with water, bring to a boil and then reduce the heat and simmer 20 minutes or until lentils are tender. Drain well. Now, because I used canned potatoes, the only thing I had to cook was the lentils which saved me some steps and time. Combine the lentil/potato mixture with the salt and then mash everything together and then set aside. Normally my next step would be to steam the carrots and peas for approximately 3 minute and set aside; but again, because I used canned carrots and peas this time, I didn't need to do this. I did heat 2–1 teaspoons of oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. The I added the onion and sautéed it for 2 minutes. I added the cumin, ginger, mustard seed, cayenne and garlic and sautéed approximately 1 more minute. Then I removed the pan from the heat and added the cilantro. I also added the onion mixture, carrot mixture and brown rice to the lentil mixture and stirred gently. With floured hands I divided the mixture into equal portions and shaped it into 4" patties. When the patties were formed I dipped them into the egg mixture and then into bread crumbs. (But if you don't want to bread your patties, you don't even need the egg mixture or bread crumbs.) I heated the broiler and broiled the burgers on lightly coated cookie sheets for approximately 5 minutes, each side until they were browned.

I swear, no one even asked where I had gotten hamburger from. They were too busy stuffing their face. There is nothing quite as flattering to a cook as to have the only sound at the dinner table being the snorffling and snuffling of people wolfing their food like it's trying to get away from them.

I didn't make any buns for the burgers. We've got some flour and some wheat left but not enough to indulge in those kinds of things. I don't know what we are going to do when the wheat runs out. I've heard Scott and the other men talking about trying to make a supply run, maybe up to Tennessee or Kentucky at some of the big grain mills up there, but the very thought makes me nauseous.

The kids were starting to get the mullygrumps again since Angus wasn't there for their nightly outrageous story hour so I had mine run home and get their baths over with early. Rose and David walked them back and it was nice to see that they were getting along so well. Scott and I still want them to wait a long … a long, long … time but in this day and age I suppose you could want something but there was no guarantee that you were going to get it.

While the kids were all off getting ready for bed Betty, Reba, and I planned out what we were going to do tomorrow. Today was supposed to have been cleaning day but I spent it in the garden and the kids were out there helping me. Tomorrow is supposed to be baking day but we'll probably just do each day's baking as we need it from here on out to try and conserve as much flour and cornmeal as we can. That meant that I'd get a little cleaning in, things weren't so bad they couldn't wait, and the rest of the day we'll start canning and preserving the tomatoes and other produce that we won't be able to eat fresh before it goes bad.

And we have to keep up with the gardens. The beans need to be picked again. I think there may be a couple of watermelons ready for harvest tomorrow. The pickling cucumbers are going to have to be picked again and we have to get at least one five gallon bucket that is sitting in the Cooler canned. Another row of carrots needs to be picked and preserved. Lots of other stuff; enough that I'm getting tired just thinking about it.

Patricia is getting weak again. Betty said she doesn't see any way that she is going to make it to a full 40-week birth. She's just 30 weeks along, nearly 31 weeks, but she's getting pale and listless. The baby seems to be doing OK but Patricia isn't. The baby is just taking everything out of her. Ski said another month and they might even see about inducing her labor but it's too risky before then; they just don't have the facilities for a NICU situation.

Rhonda on the other hand has threatened to start doing cartwheels and jumping jacks. She is done being pregnant. I remember that feeling well. It's like carrying a bowling ball right on your bladder that likes to bang back and forth on your pelvic bones. Every once in a while you'll get a nice, swift kick to the lungs that will knock the breath right out of you. And boy is she nesting. Poor McElroy has a "honey do" list that gets longer with every passing day. I nearly laughed myself silly when he showed up one night begging Scott to come help him put a baby bed together that we had found so that he could get Rhonda to go sit down instead of trying to be "helpful."

Speaking of babies, Tris has finally gotten to trust me enough to take Cinda part of the day. It gives him time to spend with Tyce who is bewildered and shook up. Tyce won't leave Tris' side yet, not even to play with kids that are about his own age. Johnnie brought a little bag of Matchbox cars over for him to play with but Bubby was too loud and scared him right back to Tris and then Johnnie and Bubby got into it and Ski evicted them both from the Clinic. I could have scalped Bubby; I hope he is just going through a stage and this isn't something that Scott and I are going to have to fight for an extended period of time.

Conrad and his son Roddy seem to be doing OK. Conrad shovels food into Roddy every chance he gets. Roddy is another one that won't leave his source of security. I'm surprised Conrad got any work done at all the way Roddy held onto him and refused to let him out of his sight.

If all of those males stay long we'll have to do something about it. Tyce and Roddy need to integrate with the kids their age. They are going to have to chores the same as the other kids and they are going to have to let Conrad and Tris to their fair share as well. We all work here. We make some accommodations for temporary problems, but we absolutely have to make sure that there is some kind of participation in the chore list for everyone.

Speaking of being on a chore list, I have to get up off my rear and get my boots on so that I can go take my turn on guard duty. Cease is going to walk with the dogs tonight and if it works well we may not have to have so many night shifts. Problem for me is that night time is the easiest time for me to put in guard duty hours. We'll just have to take it one duty rotation at a time I guess.


	197. Day 243

**Day 243 (Saturday) – March 31**

Beware the Ides of March? I've forgotten what that means but it came from _Julius Caesar_. If the Ides had planned on getting us, they ran out of time. Today was the last day of March. Tomorrow will start the 9th month we have been living this crazy life we lead. Tomorrow will also – I prayerfully hope – see a new life brought into this world.

For two nights now we've been expecting Angus and Jim and contact us. They took the radios and a charging system with them but nothing yet; they may be waiting until they get out of the area. The talk at breakfast this morning was where they might be and what they might be doing. The kids were talking dragons and the adults were talking lame horses. I hope it's neither. I've had to turn it over to my Faith, it eats at me too much otherwise.

The chickens, despite the recent cull of two hens, are doing very well. They get regular feed and then garden scraps ahead of all the other animals. We need the eggs and the future fowl generations more than we need say the ostriches, emus, and other exotic species that inhabit our pasture these days; and the other animals are learning to free range for themselves. I wouldn't say the cattle, horses, and hogs are as plump and pretty as the old commercial farms could feed them up to be, but we aren't treating them badly. Austin comes by to check on them weekly which is a relief for me as he is the next best thing to having an actual vet around. Mr. Morris has probably forgotten more than the rest of us combined know, but even he has consulted Austin a couple of times … like the time one of the cows had twins or that time that Ol' Billy really cut himself up attacking the barn door when he wanted out before we were ready for him to come out.

And speaking of calving and medicine leads me to thinking how Rhonda was looking at breakfast. She was antsy and uncomfortable; the baby couldn't get much lower. I knew right there it couldn't be much longer and sure enough within thirty minutes of Henry walking her back to their place he was running back with this wild look on his face to get Waleski and Betty. She's been in labor ever since, but according to Betty it wasn't active labor until about an hour ago. Her contractions have finally evened out and are right around 4 to 5 minutes apart. She could still have hours to go though so I hope she is conserving her strength. Betty had me brew up some tea for Henry and add some brandy to it. If that doesn't calm him down she said she's going to sedate him before he can pass out, fall over, and break something.

Everyone's day here in Sanctuary has been operating around listening for a baby's cry. Glenn drove Terra, Nick and there little baby over late in the afternoon so Rhonda has Ski, Betty, Terra, and both Rose and Melody to look after her. I've popped in with ice chips and clear broth a few times as well. With no AC we've been changing the sheets on her bed pretty often to try and keep her comfortable.

As for my day, after breakfast and the realization that Rhonda was gonna have her baby this time, I tried to keep the kids busy and out from under foot. The remainder of the morning was spent pulling weeds, harvesting things from the garden, and getting set up for the afternoon of canning and preserving.

Rilla, and her two girls Claire and Callie, got lunch on today. It was basically a huge salad buffet to go along with some fish that David and Clay had caught that she fried up. I noticed at lunch it wasn't just fish and when Mr. Morris caught me looking he winked at me. Sure enough, he'd caught the snake that had been bothering the hens and we had fried it up to. Given the number of pieces there were the snake must have been pretty big.

After lunch is when my work really started. First I got ready a bunch of fruits and veggies to put into the big drying oven the men had built. That thing is worth all the work that was put into it and then some. I try and try a full load in there a couple of times a week. We need to get used to integrating as much dried food as we can into our recipes and diet.

I've found one of the most fun … funnest? … things about that drier is that it makes really good veggie chips. Instead of drying the slices of fruit and veggies to a leathery feel, I go ahead and "over dry" them to a dry crisp stage. Those things are worse than potato chips, you can't eat just one. And with sour cream, cheese, and fresh herbs we can make some killer dips. In a couple of nights, assuming it doesn't rain, we are going to set up a big screen TV in the dining hall and hook up a DVD player. First movie will be for the kids and then after the kidlets are put to bed the adults will get to watch one of their movies. No zombies however. Scott laughed when I adamantly refused to vote for any of the chick flicks that we have in the library, he knows what I like to watch. If I'm going to numb my brain watching the boob tube I want to see something blown up, something get smashed, and watch the bad guys lose and lose really, really bad. If I want to cry I'll just think about real life and then I can bring on all the tears imaginable.

While the kids were slicing the stuff for the drying oven … using all the mandolin slicers that I've been able to find while we were scavenging a few months back … I got busy prepping some tomatoes. I don't even know for sure how many pounds of tomatoes that I peeled, cored, and sliced but it was bushel upon bushel full. Then I got big stock pots going so I could make tomato sauce, tomato juice, tomato soup, tomato puree, and stewed tomatoes. I used the roma tomatoes to make tomato paste and spaghetti sauce.

Everyone has been snapping beans whenever they have a spare moment. James said he even dreamed about it which seemed to embarrass him for some reason. Most of those beans went into quart jars for canning but I did set some beans aside for making other things like Dilly Beans.

I've still got a ton of recipes that I need to make but we're limited by time and size of our kitchen. Quart sized jars require that you bring the pressure on the pressure canner up to the appropriate poundage for your elevation (for us its 10 pounds of pressure) then they have to can for 25 minutes at that pressure. After that the pressure canner is carefully removed from the heat (or the heat is removed from it) and you don't do anything to it until the pressure is back to 0 for a few minutes. Then you have to vent it and remove the jars and then get the pressure canner set up for the next batch.

Because we have two stoves and about ten pressure canners of various size, we can have an assembly line going. As soon as one batch of jars are removed from the heat the next batch is put on. I can have four pressure canners going on each stove at a time, so a total of eight pressure canners; and that leaves two to prep as each batch comes off. Sometimes I have to reprocess jars that don't want to seal but hey, that's life.

Today's canning was mostly essentials though I did about 12 pints of Cabbage and Carrot Relish. Things like relishes, chutneys, another the like aren't what you would call "essentials" but they are great morale boosters and help stave off the problem of monotony. I know we should be grateful that we have anything at all to eat, but come on, it wasn't that many months ago that we finally got used to the loss of all of the imports like coffee and chocolate.

3 cups scraped and chopped carrots  
5 cups chopped sweet red and/or green peppers  
4 cups chopped cabbage  
2 cups chopped onions  
3 1/2 cups white or cider vinegar  
1 1/4 cups sugar  
3 tablespoons salt  
2 tablespoons celery seed  
1 tablespoon mustard seed

Mix all the vegetables together well. Boil the vinegar, sugar, salt, celery and mustard seed together for 2 or 3 minutes. Add the vegetables and bring to a boil. Cook for exactly one minute and pack into hot sterilized jars. Seal at once. This recipe yields 6 pints.

And speaking of coffee and chocolate, we are finally nearing the end of both. We've still got quite a bit of coffee substitute and I've been secretly mixing it half and half with the real stuff to get the addicts used to it, but when even that stuff runs out I know a few around here are going to be painfully unhappy. Chocolate is just as bad. I'm not a chocoholic myself but I do like to have it for baking and for making warm milk drinks with.

A possible substitute for both of those items is carob. I know that carob trees grow south of here but I don't know if anyone is harvesting the pods for trading. But I've only read about it and baked with carob a few times. It doesn't really taste chocolate-y but I suppose it would be the best substitute. The seeds are supposed to be a coffee sub if you toast them; again, nothing I have direct personal experience with, I've only read about it. I don't even know when the carob pods are ready for harvest. Well, it's something to think on anyway.

I know that tomorrow is supposed to be a Rest Day but I think I'll take my rest by canning up some other non-essentials. I want to take some of the yellow pear tomatoes and make up a couple of batches of tomato preserves and I also want to make some tomato butter and some tomato jam. I'm also going to be preserving some watermelon stuff.

We did get a couple of nice watermelons out of the patch today; it was our main dessert tonight. I took some of the watermelon juice over to Rhonda and she was so grateful I thought she was going to cry. Terra said between the heat and the labor Rhonda was getting dehydrated so the ice chips and the cold watermelon juice helped to at least stimulate her to get more fluids down and keep them down.

I'm sorry that she couldn't eat anything but she probably would have just puked it up if she had. Dinner was pretty nice. I had some of those rice noodles that Saen taught me to make in the Cooler and basically we just made a huge stir fry. Betty made something called "Drunken Noodles" but I swear, even the smell of it cooking was enough to send me running for the hills. I've never tasted anything so hot in all my life. No wonder as she was using some fresh hot peppers out of the pepper patch. Even Dix's eyes were watering after he got done with his dish, and he loves anything and everything spicy hot.

For those of us that didn't want to put our taste buds into an early grave I made Pad See Ew. Basically its rice noodles stir fried with soy sauce, broccoli or bok choy, garlic, and really thin slivers of pork. The pork was from a wild pig that Scott and Bob brought down while they were out hunting up more ball bearings or something yesterday along the road. The wild oink wasn't very big but it made four small hams for the smokehouse and some sausage that went in there as well. I held back a small bit of loin in the Cooler and put it to good use tonight.

The pig was a nice surprise and I didn't even really hear about it until after Scott and I went to bed. Hunting is still way below what it was. I'm not really sure of the reason though we all have our own theories about the phenomena. Me? I think it's a combination of several things. The fire and over-hunting is likely the two biggest culprits but we can probably add depredation by non-native predators and loss of human provided food as another couple of reasons. I think the hyenas are back, if they ever left. I heard them right before I started writing this journal entry. They are still off to the north and I hope they stay there. We don't need that kind of trouble down here though we may get it eventually.

The hyenas had gotten used to eating the corpses we dumped up US41 in our "landfill." The fire burned that over pretty much and after we cleaned up after the Hive we haven't had to take that many bodies up that way for a while. If the clan is the same one, they may get hungry before too much longer. We'll have to watch the horses and other cattle to make sure nothing can get at them. This reminds me to tell Scott that we have a couple of branches that are getting too close to the Wall again. Last thing I want is another big cat attack; my Sarah will bear the scars of that attack for the rest of her life.

Time to put pen and paper down; obviously it is going to be a while yet before Rhonda's baby is born so I might as well stop waiting up. And I hope that where ever Angus and Jim are they are doing OK. Maybe we'll hear from them tomorrow. It'll be three days that they've been gone and I can't imagine that it would take much longer than that for them to get out of the immediate area.


	198. Day 244

**Day 244 (Sunday) – April 1 – Rest Day**

April showers bring May flowers? Well I hope so because sure as shooting this blasted all day rain has gotten in the way of my plans today. I want it to be good for something. I do already have some flowers blooming; lots of my lilies are blooming like the gloriosa, canna, Aztec, amaryllis, and spider lily. Best of all my daylilies are starting to bloom. I'll let a few of them go because I think they're pretty and then I'm going to see about getting some of them squared away for adding to our food supply. I also want the patch to spread.

I shouldn't say that I guess. We definitely needed the rain. The garden was sucking it up like fine wine and it was nice to refill our storage tanks. Matter of fact it rained enough to refill one of the in-ground pools here in Sanctuary. Scott spent the day tinkering with some ideas he's had for our own home and gave Bob some room to work.

Bob is a little upset. OK, Bob is a lot upset. He's not the only one. I was caught this morning doctoring the coffee. I'll be honest, I'm not sorry I did it I'm just sorry I got caught before I could confess. None of our house except David drink coffee and while he likes it, he's not enamored of it and can go without if he has too. We've got others here in Sanctuary however that seem to be coffee fiends who seem to need it like vampires need blood. They were upset to find out how low we were but even more upset to find out I'd made the decision to "water down" their caffeine fix without consulting them on it. I've been doing it nearly a month now and no one noticed or said anything about it so I still don't get their pouting … but I do understand they would have preferred to be consulted about it.

I've been thinking of a plan of how to get some real coffee but nothing I've come up with is an immediate fix or necessarily even feasible. Coffee is an import primarily from Central and South America. I have a feeling that real coffee is going to be even more costly than ammo and honey on the open trading market.

I'm giving something a try but it will be years before it produces anything. In one of my notes that I printed out many moons ago was how to grow a coffee tree. It wasn't really a high priority for me so I had forgotten about it until today. You start by taking green coffee beans (which we still have some of from where we scavenged from down in Ybor City) and then sprouting them. That takes ten days to two weeks to happen and then you take the sprouts and plant them in small pots where they get some sun but don't get sun burnt. Every year you replant them in a pot that is two inches bigger than the one they started in until the pot is an 8 to 10 inch size. Every year after that you top dress the top two inches of soil in the pot.

What happens after that point I have no idea. The directions don't say. Looking in my other books it looks like I'll have to grow the pots in a greenhouse specific to their needs. Can't get too hot in there (not much above 80 degrees) and never gets too cold (not much below 60 degrees). Sounds like a lot of work for a little return. I hope it's going to be worth it. I still say that if my soda crazy self can give up my vice the others can deal with giving up theirs. At least I was trying to prevent them from having to go cold turkey. But there you go. Everyone has their sacred cows and I guess coffee can be one of them.

Two good things did happen today; Rhonda had her baby and we heard from Angus and Jim.

Rhonda's baby was born about 3:30 AM. It's a little boy but they are fighting over the name of all things. Rhonda wants to name the baby Henry Jr. and McElroy wants the baby's name to be Ronald after Rhonda. I swear, you'd think that they'd already had this taken care of by now. The baby was a little smaller than expected and Ski and Terra weren't happy that he had a little trouble breathing at first but he wasn't blue or anything. He weighed in at 6 lbs. 3 oz. and was 19 inches long but otherwise he appears healthy now that Iggy has had a chance to clean him up and give him a little oxygen (thank you Glenn for your wondrous contraptions). The labor was probably a little longer than a hospital setting would have let go on, close to twenty hours, but I guess that is what you get when you have a natural birth. I heard Rhonda nearly clocked McElroy the last time he got a little green around the gills and told him if she had to go through this, he was going to too whether he liked it or not. Methinks that Henry McElroy is going to be very, very diligent when it comes to birth control for a while.

It was a nice bit of news to wake up to and I made sure that Rose took over a hardy helping of porridge for Rhonda along with a tall glass of cold milk fresh from the cooler. She's gonna need it if she plans on breastfeeding to provide the baby with all his nutritional needs.

The rain had already started by the time I got breakfast ready for everyone. I will admit my feelings were a little hurt by the cold shoulder I got but I'm a grown up and so are they. They'll either get over or they won't. From here on out they can make their own coffee and when it is all gone, it will be all gone and I won't have to worry about it anymore. Like I said, I'm sorry for getting caught not for doing it. I'll just have to live with the consequences of my choices. You can't always be sensitive when it comes to rationing food and drink, especially the stuff that isn't getting replaced for whatever reason. Somehow I wound up responsible for the food and gardens. I'm gonna make mistakes, but I'm still going to do the best job I can and that won't always include asking permission. Oh well, you live you learn.

After breakfast, rather than stand around dealing with the glowers or listening to their crazy schemes about how and where to get more coffee, I tried to get some work done in the gardens. It was hopeless. Even with a rain slicker on I got soaked to the skin and I just couldn't get anything done by myself. Johnnie and Bekah came out to help but I sent them back home to get their school stuff prepared for tomorrow after I saw they were both getting chilled.

I finally just gave it up for the day after Scott came to find me and he told me he and Bob were calling it quits for the day as well. We need to get another aluminum carport built for the machine shop but even if we'd had it today I'm not sure how much good it would have done. The wind was having fun blowing the rain sideways as often as it came straight down. I couldn't even really work in the kitchen cause of the way the rain was blowing. We've tried it in the past and the rain just makes it too hard to get the pressure canners up and evenly processing.

I missed cleaning day so I spent some time doing that while David and James helped Scott out on the lanai. They were hooking some solar power up to the pool pump. Scott has decided to replace our DE pool filter with one of the old sand filter types. We still have quite a bit of chlorine, shock, and muriatic acid and have been doing the best we can to keep the pool reasonably clean. Not that we don't have an algae problem cause we do, but at least it is mustard and green algae and not the dreaded black algae that will kill a pool in no time. Most of the pools outside of Sanctuary are just plain gross and have all sorts of critters living in them. And now that gator mating season has arrived I'm a little worried we may have some gator territorial issues as a result.

If the sand filter works it should go a long way toward making my life easier. The endless scrubbing and chemical checking of our pool is a real drag on my time that I already don't have enough of. Scott says he'll wire the automatic time her run on the new filter and we'll even be able to utilize the automatic chlorinator. We try and keep the screens in good shape but James was out patching a few holes, when the wind wasn't crazy, that were left over from the embers that fell from the last big fire.

Everyone had lunch at their own domicile this afternoon though I know Betty and Reba made extra to share with Jack and Patricia. Melody cooked her and Cease's lunch at Rhonda's place and fed them too. I made a vegetable quiche only I didn't call it a quiche. Scott gets weird sometimes and one of those things he gets weird about is "quiche." Instead I just called it a vegetable brunch pie. For dessert I made some dried fruit fried pies.

I must have been a three or four the first time I saw my Great Aunt Flossie make fried pies in a cast iron skillet on the stove top. They are so easy but some people get scared off making them because they don't have enough confidence in making the crust. It's basically just a rolled out biscuit dough or pastry dough if you want to get fancy; I'm not fancy. After you have your circle the size and thickness you want it you fill half the circle with whatever filling you want. Today I used a jar of mock mincemeat because I'm missing apples so bad. Dampen the dough edge with a little water and then you fold the dough over so you have a half moon shape. Use a fork to seal the edge and then you fry your "pie" in butter or whatever you have on hand. You can bake them too but I happen to like them fried.

And so did everyone else apparently. The pies went just about as quickly as I could get them out of the skillet. Clean up was easy and I left it to the girls while I went to check on the stuff I had drying in the big drying oven. The rain had slowed down the drying process some but that is OK given how much was in there to begin with. I hate taking stuff out of the dehydrator when it is raining. It's still raining just nowhere near as hard, so I hope that by the morning I can take things out without them getting all soaked all over again.

Since I couldn't do any canning I spent the remainder of the afternoon brining stuff. First the kids and I had fun making Jar Kraut. OK, it's not traditional but sauerkraut but I needed the crocks I had cleaned for the pickles we made later.

First you have to harvest your cabbage. I had nearly a dozen heads of cabbage that were beginning to get wilt-y around the edges sitting in the cooler because I had been taking too long to get something done with them. I removed the outside and dirty leaves then quartered the heads and shredded them using a big butcher knife. If we had had power I might have used a meat slicer but with the son behind the clouds for who knows how long I did it sans any special kitchen gadget. The ratio of cabbage to salt is five pounds shredded cabbage to two ounces of salt. You have to mix it up by hand because even a large wooden spoon just doesn't do it evenly enough.

After you have your mixing done properly, pack the shredded cabbage solidly into jars. I used quart jars this time even though I used to just do pints since I was making it for bigger crowds. And you really, really need to pack the shredded cabbage into the jar tightly. You add cold water to this mixture but leave one inch of head space for the whole mess and then put the jar caps on loosely.

I set the jars on the unused kitchen counter section and it will stay there until it is finished fermenting, which is about a week. After that I'll have to use a wooden spoon to get any air bubbles out and then do what I have to do to process the jars in a boiling water bath for 25 minutes.

Next came the crock pickles. First variety of crock pickles were the dills. You need 8 cups water, ½ cup pickling salt (coarse), 1 gallon pickling cucumbers 2-3" in length, 6 garlic cloves, 6 fresh dill heads or sprigs, 2 tablespoons pickling spice, 2 small hot peppers (fresh or dried), and 1 cup white pickling vinegar. First you have to scrub and drain the cucumbers removing blossom end (the end contain enzymes which can cause rot). Next place the water, vinegar and salt into the crock, stirring to dissolve salt. Add remaining ingredients. Last place a weighted plate in the solution to keep cucumbers immersed and cover the crock with a tight fitting plastic bag or plastic wrap. I had Scott, David, and James move the crocks to the Cooler so that they could stay about 68 degrees F. I'll have to check them daily to remove any floating scum but they should be ready after seven days. After that I'll strain the pickles out of the brine and can them using the boiling water bath method.

After I got the dill pickles that had the garlic in them going I did dill pickles without garlic, sour pickles, Lithuanian crock pickles, 14 Day Pickles, and Sweet Lime Pickles. I've got other pickle recipes but I ran out of crocks and many of the rest of the recipes are where you take the cucumbers and then add the cooked brine to them in the jar right before processing.

I smelled like pickles by the end of the day and my hands were like prunes. It'll be worth it in the long run. I had the girls to fix black beans and yellow rice from our home supplies for dinner. It had been awhile since we had eaten it and it got us talking about things we have be subconsciously be trying to keep from remembering because we know it is gone forever. The Columbia Restaurant, Brocatto's Sandwich Shop, Pipo's Family Restaurant … all those memories; but they were easy to talk about compared to the people we had been avoiding talking about. The Rodriguez family and their daughter that was Bekah's best friend. All the kids that were friends with Rose and James that had come over one Saturday for a pool party and I served them up food from the Segundo Bakery, Cuban Sandwiches, Mock Sangria, and bowls of Garbanzo bean soup. Christmas Eve when my brother and his family and my parents were come over for a traditional Spanish meal of pork marinated in naranja agria, yellow rice, black beans, Cuban bread, flan, ensalada de media noche, picodillo … it ached but not necessarily in a bad way. And maybe it is time that we start letting those memories come back a bit at a time.

David shared some of his own memories, many of them too poignant and private for me to write here without coming to tears again. Poor boy. Not everyone has led the shelter lives that Scott and I have always tried to give our kids; but still he seemed to find some happiness, enough to make him to know the difference between how he lived and how he wanted to live.

With the rain not letting anything of real value get accomplished I thought it was a good night for everyone to try and get a little extra sleep. For a change none of us had a night shift though David would have First Shift as usual so would need to be up no later than four am. But none of the kids wanted to go to bed. It was definitely a night that called for a toddy. For the kids I made a warm butterscotch milk drink. I drank the same thing but Scott added a splash of rum to his. I was trying to figure out what to do with the unexpected leftovers when Cease and Melody dropped by and I was able to give it to them rather than figure out how to split the small amount between some many littles.

Cease is the one that brought word that Angus and Jim had finally radioed in. And I quote:

 _Not staying only on the roads but zig-zaging across the countryside has paid off, sorta. Came across an industrial park that had been secured as a living compound. Chain Link fence surrounded the complex and cars and trucks had been moved against the inside of the fence to keep it from being pushed in and breached. It looked as if maybe it was 10 strong at the time of the fire. They didn't flee the fire as the gate was still locked from within. Everything is at ground level now. The remains are scatted about the compound. Nothing survived the fire. Got some bugs out here that are so big you can hear them coming. Jim is trying out a new perfume for the ladies, don't think it will catch on though. It's a lot quieter out here than it used to be, less birds. Tell sissy we haven't seen a single squirrel in days. But if we do we'll be sure to catch it and bring it back for her collection._

I'm glad to know they are safe but it sounds … lonely I guess. Not even birds to keep them company. I suppose the quiet will let them hear anything that might be trying to sneak up on them. I wonder if they'll find a lot of compounds like that out there. What could have stopped them from evacuating before the fire consumed them? The Hive? Did the smoke incapacitate them before they had a chance to escape? Lordy, that's sad. Worse, it could have been us.

I still remember that feeling of being cut off from everyone and everything up in that attic. I must have been three quarters crazy when I tied myself to that beam. The boys seem to have recovered well enough though they still have the occasional nightmare here and there when under a lot of stress.

Melody also told me that Rhonda and the baby are doing well all things considered. Rhonda is understandably tired and sore but otherwise doing OK. Terra is going home tomorrow as soon as she sees that Rhonda has all the new baby stuff down. I know it took me a while with Rose to figure out the breastfeeding thing so that she didn't make me so blasted tender. Some days I really do miss … no … no I don't. I may miss the idea of it but the reality is something I know is gone so I need to stop moping about it. Enough is enough. That time is gone in my life and I've got enough to manage thank you very much.

As soon as Cease and Melody left for their own home we began to get the kidlets all down for bed. Talk about a major undertaking every night. Cinda is bunking with us tonight so that all the Clinic folks can get a good night's rest after delivering Rhonda's baby. Tristan is still too weak to manage both Cinda and Tyce. Then Kitty, little Miss Jealousy herself, unsatisfied with anything unless the person holding Cinda puts the baby down and picks her up instead. Sis is next, then Al, Kelly, Bubby, Johnnie, Bekah and Sarah. Charlene, James, and Rose dare me to send them to bed every once in a while but generally it works out so that everyone is eager for bed these days so Scott and I can manage a little privacy more often than not.

But tonight the boys were up to shenanigans. Bubby has switched his target from Johnnie to Al and little Al is too much of a natural victim. I guess he got some of that from the situation he was in with both of his parents being … different. I don't know what I'm going to do with Bubby, he's always pushing his boundaries. He wants attention and he'll get it any way he can, good or bad. If he is like this now I can't imagine what he is going to be like as a teenager. None of biological children were the type to pick on their siblings past a certain point. Bubby has to be stopped because he can't seem to stop himself. I know he is only five, and a young five at that, but I think I'm going to have to turn him over to Scott because this just can't continue. It's the sort of thing that makes me grind my teeth. Lord he is hard headed though I suppose that is a bit like the pot calling the kettle black.

I have my own failings and I worry that there are things I could do different or better for the children. One of the things I've been worrying over is their schooling. Well, we've all agreed that the change is coming tomorrow. Right after morning chores are over with the kids are going to have to start doing some organized curricula. And if I catch them dragging their feet to keep from being on time with it you watch what happens.

And with that I'm off to re-braid my hair and get to bed. Scott is already asleep after breaking up the last mess between the boys. Now it's time for me to sleep. I'll deal with the leftover stuff tomorrow.


	199. Day 245

**Day 245 (Monday) – April 2 – Wash Day**

If this baby would just let me go to sleep I'd be ever so grateful. I wasn't even going to write tonight I'm so tired but Kitty is so fussy that all she wants to do is be held. She turned 8 months old yesterday and today she took her first toddling steps though I wouldn't say that she is really walking, just kind of creeping around holding on to things. As soon as she lets go gravity takes over and butt meets ground. Unfortunately this does not make it easy to get any work done as she is no longer satisfied with just staying in the playpen covered by mosquito netting. By the time I came up with the idea of letting her just play inside our old tent she had pulled the mosquito netting down so many times that she was covered in whelps. She has been in a foul mood most of the day and she is too uncomfortable tonight to go to sleep easily.

Everyone else is also but bit to one extreme or the other. I've got a ton of natural mosquito repellents that I've tried over the years. Some work better than others. One of the best is boiling up a bunch of lemon verbena, straining the greenery out, putting the resulting liquid in a spray bottle and then using it just like you would commercial bug spray. It's not so much that I'm scared of DEET or anything – when you need it you need it – but I prefer not to use something that strong unless I absolutely have to, especially on the younger kids. I've got a eucalyptus tree in the neighborhood I can make essential oil from and use as well though I haven't gone to the trouble yet. And then there is the garlic recipe but that one is kinda smelly. There is cedarwood oil, and I have some of that from the pet store we scavenged, but that's another pricey ingredient I'd rather save until the other stuff doesn't work.

Of course I've had everyone making sure they leave no standing water except in the canals and ponds where it can't be helped. We've got screens and lids on all our catchment containers and water barrels. After every rain we make sure all surfaces get wiped off and dumped out as much as possible. And you are going to laugh your rear off, future reader, when you hear about how we are spraying a diluted product called "skin so soft" on all the cattle. It's an Avon brand product and I know I'll eventually run out but while I can avoid some discomfort I plan to do all I can.

The other things I've done and am doing is planting marigolds all over the place I can fit them. I love marigolds, they are good for so many things. They are pretty for one. The Calendula marigold is a regular ingredient in a lot of herbal recipes. And best of all it is a bodacious companion plant. It will go with most anything but especially with tomatoes; no whitefly problems for my tomatoes thank you very much. Planted thickly enough they also discourage nematodes which is why I have a dense plot in an area that I want for a late summer plot in a couple of months. The only thing about marigolds that you have to watch out for is that you can't plant them next to beans and cabbage; they'll act as an herbicide on the members of those plant families and you'll wind up with squat for all your efforts.

I'm growing and dividing all the mosquito plants I can as well. It's really the citronella geranium but I also just called it the mosquito plant. It's a little on the stinky side but not bad if citronella doesn't bother you. I keep some in large pots by all the entrances to the house. I've given starter bits to just about everyone and I have a tray of small plants started for Aldea but unless you do something to make the plant release the oils they don't do a whole lotta good. Some other herbals I'm planting here and there to deal with mosquitoes are pennyroyal, lavender, rosemary, basil, thyme, and peppermint. If I could find a camphor tree I'd try and get a grove of them started here in Sanctuary but that is a really long term project with no immediate results.

Argh! Kitty, please go to sleep, Momma's tired!

Anyway, got up first thing this morning to find that all of the rain from yesterday really had the bugs zipping this way and that. I must have gotten bit three times between the house and the kitchen area. Betty, Reba, and Rilla were already there ahead of me. I planned on grabbing the porridge for my crowd and then heading out to the garden, I had a lot to do. Today was also Wash Day and I'd left my girls setting up for that. Rose, Melody and Charlene were gonna be in charge today at the house. Melody still brings her, Cease's, and the kids clothes over to do it with us. It does make for a pleasant visit so I guess we'll just plan on it being this way until Scott can figure out how to power enough washing machines for everyone to use.

I took the pot of porridge back to our house, got everyone served, ate a small bowl myself and then put on my grungy garden togs and overalls. I look ridiculous but it keeps the bugs off. James carried Kitty's stuff over to the big garden for me and set it up. Kitty is a menace on wash day and it's just safer for everyone if she is otherwise occupied. She's going through a stage when she has to test everything and fire fascinates her, I guess it looks like flowers or something.

I had intended to harvest first and plant in the afternoon but everything was so damp and nasty from yesterday's rain that I decided to plant first instead. I've been pretty good about keeping everything weeded and James, bless him, has helped with the "mowing" by taking a sling blade and keeping the worst of the overgrowth from encroaching on the garden sides. I had also laid down black and clear plastic sheeting to kill off the bad stuff and mark off where the new plots were going to be. Day before yesterday I had the littles pull out all of the grass and roots and this morning I used the cart to pull the small disc attachment through the areas.

You'd think with over 150 acres to work with there would be plenty of places to for the garden but not really. We've got buildings and tarmac over a bunch of that and the canals and ponds also take up their share of space as does the pasture area for the animals. I can't plant right up next to the Wall for obvious reasons and I have to avoid the tree lots as well. I've got a few large gardens but for the most part I have to lay out things in bits and pieces where ever I can get them in. It takes a lot of garden to feed everyone.

Today I planted more beans (bush, pole, and lima) though it is already getting to the point I'm sick of having to pick a bushel or two at a time every stinking day. I know that sounds like more than enough but you'd be amazed … or maybe you wouldn't since I don't know what the future holds any more if I ever did … how many beans it takes to cook enough for the troops.

After I got the beans in the ground I planted two big patches of summer goodies; black eyed peas and okra. I know I don't get much traction with them at meal times right now but come the middle of summer everyone will be happy for their freshness when nothing else survives the brutal heat and sun. Then came a cantaloupe/melon patch and a pumpkin patch. And after that I planted summer squash, more peppers, and collard greens.

That left my two newest acquisitions and I hope they work out. At the market I picked up sweet potatoes and raw peanuts. We are coming to the tail end of all the peanut butter except for the powdered stuff I bought pre-NRS and I won't use that except in an emergency. I managed to get a good sized plot of peanuts planted. Cease promises me that they are easy to grow; his grandparents always had a whole field of peanuts that they'd turn around and sell as boiled peanuts at the vegetable stand. I hope to high heavens he is right. I traded a pint of honey and a tray of herb seedling for enough peanuts to plant nearly a quarter acre plot. I am not going to be happy if we don't get some results off of it.

The sweet potatoes weren't nearly as dear in price but if they make we'll be sitting pretty. When I tried to find out where the man had picked up the peanuts and sweet potatoes he got a little belligerent so I let it go fast, but it is still a curiosity I keep thinking on. I'm wondering if he is doing a little smuggling from the Free Zone or a little black marketeering from outside the state. The radio says that the Feds are trying to crack down on the illegal border trade but that's as likely to work as stopping the all the illegal immigrants we used to have crossing into the US. Although it seems they are smartening up and business folks caught with "contraband" are fined, lose their fuel allotment, and have their business confiscated. When the risk is no longer worth the reward, people will find some other way to make a living or they will follow the rules.

My job was made all the harder because I had to keep stopping to deal with Kitty. By lunch time I was ready to pull my hair out. I was hot, tired, dirty, and just about as cranky as Kitty was and in no mood for the pouty faces I got when I finally made it to the Dining Hall.

It seems I forgot to make the coffee this morning. I was in a nasty mood and not feeling too hot and Dix caught me at the wrong moment right has Kitty decided to take a bite out of the finger I was using to poke a piece of broccoli into her mouth. Those baby teeth are sharp!

James, who'd had the good sense to leave me in peace after he shoved a glass of iced tea my way, shoved a piece of broccoli in my mouth before I could pop off and regret it. By the time I finished chewing the small tree and swallow it before it choked me I had myself under better control. I explained that I was busy and had forgotten and then tendered my apologies. I think someone else would have said something but the steam beginning to billow out of my ears must have made them rethink it.

I really didn't mean to forget the coffee. Really. I know that sounds like an excuse but I just plain didn't have time to think about it this morning. Or didn't make the time to think about it this morning. I don't know. I just didn't do it and that's all there is to it. Maybe someone else will lend me a hand and then they can share the heat when it's too strong, not strong enough, cut with substitute, or not cut and running low. My magical satchel is running low on some items; coffee and chocolate are a couple of them. My own patience is occasionally another one.

After lunch and I set up one of our smaller tents for Kitty to toddle around in until she was ready to go down for a nap. That was a wasted thirty minutes as I had to repair a shock pole that had splintered. The tent leaned somewhat but at least it kept Kitty contained and happy.

I guess the girls had had their fill of the older littles because they sent them out to me not long after that. I'm sure that they didn't mean to make things harder on me but I really hadn't planned on having to deal with finding work for five five-and-under littles either.

But tote that barge and lift that bale works as well now as it did in the old days. Here's a list of what the kids and I brought in today: long season beets, All-Season Cabbages, Boothby's blonde cucumbers (which is kind of weird looking), Japanese climbing cucumbers, Tendergreen burpless cucumbers, West Indian gherkin cucumbers, White Wonder cucumbers (which are even more odd than the blonde ones), brown bell peppers (which I can't convince the kids aren't rotten), mini red ball bell peppers, bloody butcher tomatoes, first pick tomatoes, wild cherry tomatoes (grape size), sweetie cherry tomatoes, tiny tim tomatoes, bambino carrots, a bunch of looseleaf lettuce, and nearly half a bushel of English peas.

I stopped to check on Kitty who had crashed for a nap when Reba came by and said she'd finished with the butter and cheese quicker and that if I didn't mind she wanted to make some pickles. I looked at her like she was a saint sent to deliver me and she got a good laugh out of it. A couple of her kids grabbed the bushel baskets that we'd filled up and hauled them to the kitchen for their mom.

Betty was in charge of dinner which was a relief for me. She made borscht soup the way she learned when she and Kevin had spent a couple of months in Russia on sabbatical and it was so good. She also made a huge salad and then the main dish was a huge pile of sautéed and grilled veggies with some gator meatballs mixed in for those that wanted meat.

I guess McElroy was feeling frisky and manly and he and David had gone to the fish ponds to bring back more fish stock for our canals. Well, I tried to tell them to watch for gators as the bulls were going to be feeling kind of frisky themselves. April is gator mating season and I'd already heard them singing for their females that last few days (and nights). They said every fish pond had at least one gator in it. The one they brought home was a five foot male that had been hiding in the bushes trying to avoid the big boys.

The fishy smelling thing was divided up just about as soon as it crossed Sanctuary's threshold. The hide went one direction, the teeth and claws went other. Betty grabbed the tail after it has been skinned to make the meatballs, Samuel wanted the skull, and I don't think I want to know what the dogs did with whatever was left over. Ew.

Gator doesn't quite taste like chicken like everyone says. The tail is really lean meat. There is really only a single marble of fat that runs down the tail and you take that out before you cook it. The taste is kind of like chicken I guess, depending on how you cook it, but it's also kind of like catfish. Like everything else it takes on the flavor of what it is cooked with so it's good for mixed dishes but I think the simplest way to fix it is just to fry it up. Fried gator tail always makes me think of the bit FSU/UF rivalry. Sad to think that those two schools may never reopen but if FSU was a bad as UF as far as NRS infestation goes, it might be for the best in the long run.

I ate dinner downwind of everyone. We've gotten over being very particular about deodorant and such but even I was getting grossed out by how smelly I was. I was also dealing with a very cranky Kitty by that point.

After dinner I ran to see if the girls had dumped the last rinse water yet and was rewarded by it not only being there but still being warm. I stuck Kitty in a high chair which she was most unhappy about and then dumped bucket after bucket into the tub we keep on the lanai. I pulled the screen over to give myself some privacy, undressed both Kitty and I and then climbed in the tub. I scrubbed the two of us the best I could and then wanted nothing more than to relax for a few minutes but my youngest chick wasn't going to let me.

Just then Scott startled me with a "Boo!" as he snuck around the screen. I was too tired to do much more than threaten to throw my luffa brush at him and he just laughed the wretch. Happily however he grabbed the baby and told me to take my time, the kids were already washed up and were getting ready for bed.

I must have fallen asleep because it was full dark when Kitty's crying woke me up. I was shriveled as a prune. I climbed out, pulled the plug on the tub and let the water drain out thought the pipe that Scott had cut and installed through the lanai wall for this purpose, and went inside to see what was going on.

Scott was looking trashed, I guess he'd gotten Kitty to settle down for a while but he needed to go on guard duty. He looked sorry that I had to get up but it's not like I could have slept in the tub all night. I gave him a quick kiss as he rushed out, made sure the rest of the kids got to bed, and spent the next three hours trying to pacify a cranky baby.

Scott came in exhausted and barely had the energy to register that Kitty was still awake. I pushed him off to bed anyway even though he said he'd take her for a few minutes. I wasn't having any of that, especially after I found out they'd spotted a small bunch of zombies going through the area. Zombies aren't that unusual but they were being hunted by people wearing ZKK insignia.

If they had been sanitizing the zombies like most rational people would we wouldn't have had a problem. Instead it appeared like they were capturing them and putting them in cages that had been welded onto trailers being pulled by large trucks.

What on earth those idiots are doing I can't imagine. OK, I can imagine but it doesn't do any good. We need to find out why they are coming all the way over here when they've supposedly got a huge territory further south on Dale Mabry Hwy. We are going to have to step up our foot patrols to make sure they aren't trying anything that could cause us problems. I'm a live and let live person and I don't like to be in other people's business but if they are doing anything to endanger my family and friends I'll lead the charge against their compound myself.

I think a couple of more minutes of rocking and Kitty will be good and out for the rest of the night, I hope. I'm gonna close here and try and get her down so I can finally get some sleep. Its been a confoundedly long day.


	200. Day 246

**Day 246 (Tuesday) – April 3**

Woke up with ZKK on the brain. I just can't seem to stop wondering what on earth they could possibly want with those zombies. We've had suggestions from target practice to pets and we are no closer to finding out than we were last night.

Dix took McElroy to go have a face-to-face confab with Aldea and OSAG. Our guards are the only ones to have witnessed what they were doing but the other two groups now have a heads up and will be watching.

Poor Melody had a meltdown today. Newly married she's still honeymooning but she's starting to learn the plain truth … or the truth as women see it. It's been this way since the beginning of time. Men are hard workers but they learn to never volunteer and how to relax much earlier in life than females do. Women's work is never done and yet there seem almost a genetic imperative to take on more and more until we are completely snowed under.

OK, that's a really bad over simplification of the situation. At any point you can generally find a man sitting under a tree, fishing, or something of that nature. They'll stop to have an impromptu football or Frisbee game. I don't think I've ever seen any of us women doing that unless we have a man in tow. There's the cooking, the cleaning, the kids, now the academic teaching. There's the gardening, the washing, the mending. The menu planning, the keeping up with the inventories, and the food preservation. I've learned to do what I can and then just accept that the rest gets done some other time. I wasn't always like this. Lord knows I've gone both ways; working until I made myself sick and then blaming Scott and just literally giving up and going on strike because I didn't feel appreciated.

Scott and I have learned to watch each other for signals when the other is needing a break but doesn't have the sense to ask for it. And we try to never tell each other "no" when the other is asked for help. If we have to say "no" we try and offer an alternative that is at least as good or better than the result of the request would have been. Not always successfully, but after 20+ years of marriage we've gotten a lot better at it. When we have a disagreement it's very rare for it to be over who is pulling their weight.

Melody and Cease though are new at this. Melody was is sad shape when we rescued her and the kids. Belle and Trent are good kids, but they are still kids; and they are nowhere near old enough to look after themselves in any way. Trent isn't much older than Sis is. She's also having to take care of a house and husband for the first time under very trying circumstances. And she works full time in the Clinic and is still learning as much as she can about practical healthcare at the same time. Ski is no slave driver but he's no slouch either and the girls have to give at least 100% to what he is trying to teach them.

Cease is a good young man but let's be practical here. He's young. He's a male. He was the apple of his grandparents' eyes, so count him a little on the spoiled side. Sure the military knocked some of that out of him but old habits die hard and his grandmother probably did all the "women's work" around the house and left him to his grandfather for other stuff. He likely doesn't mean to do this … but it's the testosterone, you know?

A first fight is inevitable. This time however I guess Melody was just plum tuckered. Melody hadn't had time to fold and put away all of the clothes that she had washed yesterday. She stayed up late and got everything but the socks and undies done and those she put in a basket to do the next day … today I mean. She had first rotation at the Clinic so she got up, got the kids up and took them to breakfast and then dropped them at our house for Charlene to watch for a few hours and so they could do "school" mid-morning. Cease was walking in the door from two shifts of guard duty as she was walking out with the kids.

I was out in the garden when I heard a commotion. I thought one of the kids was in trouble. I was going to ignore it for long as I could thinking that if it was one of mine getting in trouble I'd be told soon enough and then the spanking would commence. Slowly things quieted back down and I let it go since I hadn't been called.

About fifteen minutes Scott comes out to where I was going and I thought, "Uh oh, who did what now?"

And then the big goof doubled over. Scared … me … to … death. I go running up and grab him and we both fall to the ground 'cause he is laughing so hard. That's when I found out that all the hollering had been Melody.

Between fits of laughter Scott tells me how Cease had apparently dumped his stinky, sweaty clothes and boots right on top of the clean unmentionables leaving neither of them nothing to wear. It would have been OK but Cease … in a fit of absentminded maleness … just casually said, "Oh, you can just wash them. I'll wait."

I guess it must have been the straw that broke the camel's back. And then Dix … he tried to "help." That would be like the blind leading the blind. Dix also mentioned how it was just "washing a few things" and couldn't be all that bad. WHAP! Melody slung a sweat-soaked dirty sock right in Dix's face and told him if he thought washing was so easy he could just do it himself. She then started enumerating exactly how much work washing actually was.

That's when all the women over there kind of gave the men an education on how much work they were doing. Scott, David, and James had the sense to lay low and avoid becoming the target as they'd had their fair share of the sharp slings and arrows of womankind thrown their way before.

More in self-defense than anything else, Dix decided to call a community meeting to address everyone's (read all the women's) complaints and concerns.

During lunch there was a lot of airing out. I've popped my cork a time or two over the issue but I held back except when asked directly for a contribution to the discussion. Everyone knows what my temper is and I didn't want to get known as a flaky complaining woman. I felt we were all better off if the more even tempered of us made the case for some changes.

The bottom line is that the men didn't really know what most of the women's chores entailed and a lot of the women didn't really know the rationale for the way the men did their work. The adult women do the cooking (all of it), most of the food preservation at all levels, most of the cleaning, all of the washing and mending, most of the gardening, most of the childcare, most of the small livestock care, all of the planning for the preceding activities, etc. The men do most of the construction work (Scott took a break from dismantling the remaining buildings that needed to come down outside of Sanctuary to help Iggy set up his machine shop), most of the heavy-duty livestock care, most of the hunting (though there hasn't been much of that lately), most of the water catchment, most of the road maintenance and security, all of the exterior patrols, and the planning for all their activities.

There are areas of overlap of course. Ski heads the clinic but Rose and Melody are his assistants and Terra and Nick throw in their two cents from Aldea. Almost everyone takes a turn at some point during the week on guard duty. Samuel and my Sarah spend most of their chore time helping in one way or the other with livestock care. Bekah has taken a huge liking for Communications and devotes a couple of hours a day to working in the radio shack. All of us used to participate in the Gathering Runs but being as there isn't really all that much to gather any more that task has fallen by the wayside as a group effort.

It's a plain historical fact that when women died young in the bad old days it was usually from overwork or childbirth related issues. When men died young it was often from war or accident. If we weren't careful we were going to return to those bad ol' days.

The truth is that all of the chores that we've set for ourselves are arduous and time consuming. The kids pull their weight but we have a large number of really young children so they create at least as much work as they try and help with.

To be honest, I think whatever was accomplished at the meeting was more emotional than physical. The air was cleared. All parties recognized the work of the others. We've agreed to "cross-train" more. That means that women may give more help in security and maintenance details and the men will participate in washing their own clothes and cooking. Everyone will also help in the gardens; although many of the women have already, not since the initial clearing and plowing have the adult men helped.

I'm not disappointed but I'm not going to get my hopes up too high either. There is a reason why the jobs got divvied up the way they have. People have specialties and it is easier and less time consuming (and fewer mistakes) when those people are primarily responsible for their specialties.

Take gardening, I just can't see some of the guys out there hoeing and weeding. They are as likely to take out a seedling as they are to take out a weed. And I know that if I were to be on outside patrol I'd probably be thinking of all the things that I could be doing in the garden or at home. We'll see, cross-training certainly isn't a bad idea that's for sure.

After lunch and talk time was over with I headed back out to the garden. On my way out there I saw Melody and Cease making up. Too cute. I did notice however that he had a big bucket of water and a wash basin. Hopefully it was just a matter of rinsing most of their stuff out and the whole basket didn't need to be re-washed. I didn't ask.

I planted more marigolds today and I also added some anise and sunflowers to the herb garden. Those things were all so easy to plant that the effort was negligible and I was able to leave it to the littles without any fear. The preschoolers … the littles … had their school in the morning after breakfast. Rilla, Rhonda (though only for a minute), and Claire helped them with their lessons. Mid-morning it has been the young elementary aged kids, those in the first through fifth grade. After lunch the elementary aged kids finished their chores and duties while the older kids did their lessons; that would be the tweens and teens.

Rose hadn't technically graduated but she had always been advanced academically and had already been dual-enrolled in community college. Had she been able to complete her dual enrollment plan for this year she would have been able to enter university with 18 college credit hours under her belt. Scott and I talked to her and she really was passed high school in every way, would be 18 in June anyway. We agreed to let her continue on as an apprentice in the Clinic though that was nothing more than a formality.

James on the other hand was a stickier problem. He was sixteen, not a boy but certainly not a man though he carried many of the duties of one. I'd already had the fights with him in the beginning about growing up so fast and I was the loser. I had capitulated with prejudice on that topic and I've gradually learned to live with if not totally accept the way things have gone. Scott and I both wanted James to further his education. He had a good mind though it leaned more towards leadership and governance (including Constitutional Law) than it did academia. Surprisingly it was James that came to us first. The bargain he made was that he would study math, science, and political science with the other kids, but literature would be on his own terms and of his own choosing. He said he would do this without fussing so long as he was allowed to continue studying with Dix and Scott on the running of Sanctuary and work as a Sanctuary Guard. What were we supposed to say?

And of course Scott was pleased as punch and very proud of him. I am too, just … I remember the little boy he used to be and it's hard, so hard, to let go. Why it has been so much easier with Rose I don't know. With Rose it seemed like a natural progression of who she already was and the goals she already had. It feels like James has been ripped from my arms. I remember the boy that was picked on because he was a little chunky and so much shorter than the other boys. I remember the boy that hated his teeth because they were so crooked. Scott and I worked a lot of extra hours to save the money for those braces. I remember the boy that was determined to show the older and bigger boys he was just as capable of playing tackle football as they were. I remember the boy who was determine to earn his Eagle rank by the time he was 15. And he did all that and more. He's no long the small, chunky boy so determined to prove himself. Now he's on his way to being taller than Scott and being more than a match for any of the boys that used to think they were better than he was. He'd already been heading that way when NRS came on the scene; there was no longer any doubt that he had arrived at that stage now.

I had wondered where Charlene, Maddie, Josephine, and Brandon would want to "do school." Charlene and Maddie were quite happy to spend a couple of hours a day at it. Brandon, more and more introspective and distant with all of us, said no. He was content to work in the library learning on his own or taking his turn on guard duty though he preferred going on patrol. Josephine, who has moved back in with Patricia and Jack after trying to live with Brandon for a short time, didn't know what she wanted; she didn't show up the first day but she was there today. She such a mess though that I'm not sure if she is really there when she is there or not.

So with the littles with me and the other kids either doing chores or in school I harvested more of what had ripened since yesterday plus the new stuff that had started to ripen today. Mostly it was just new varieties of tomatoes: Arkansas Traveler, pink brandywine, red brandywine, Cherokee purple, Russian black (really black and not just sort of purple), and Tangerine (a small orange colored variety). A couple of weird tomato varieties also produced though not in great quantity yet. There was White Wonder which was very low acid tomato only good for eating raw. There was Garden Peach Fuzzy Tomato which was shaped and colored similarly to a peach and really was fuzzy too; that one is kinda freaky and I'm not sure if we are supposed to eat the fuzzy skin or not. There were these little green grape tomatoes that hardly looked like they were ripe enough to pick but they tasted really good and I'm thinking they'll make pretty good tomato pickles. Then one of my favorites was the lemon drop yellow cherry tomato which I'm going to make tomato preserves from if I can keep Clay Jr. from eating them all; he nearly cleared a whole tomato vine of ripe ones in one sitting. My word that boy can eat.

I've got beets coming in hand over fist. While I watched to make sure that Sarah and Claire made the cornmeal biscuits right, I sliced about 20 pounds of beets on the mandolin slicer and sled them into the big drying oven. And of course I had to go through and get all the lettuce that was ready before it bolted.

After dinner I had the girls carry the two bushel baskets of beet tops and pieces and the lettuce cores over to the animal pens. The animals have gotten so used to seeing someone coming with their dinner in a basket that you have to wait outside the fence or they'll knock you down to get into whatever it is you are bringing them. And if Ol' Billy isn't careful and doesn't stop butting people in the backside we are going to wind up eating BBQ'd goat one of these nights for dinner. He's a menace. Every time it happens to someone else I can't help but recall my first meeting with the silly old thing.

Got a radio contact from Angus and Jim a little earlier in the day than we normally do. So far they are still traveling in the burn zone. They said that stuff is already starting to grow up through debris. I think the fire must have been moving pretty fast in some areas and all they got was a burn-over rather than a deep burn that would have sanitized the soil.

 _Didn't do much looking around because of the burn out; nothing to see but re-growth. So we just road the best paths and roads and made really good time. Weather was cooler and very overcast, waiting for some rain. Checked out some homes that are still standing along an area the fire didn't get to because of small lakes and canals but none are suitable for a night's stay because of infestations of one kind or another. Found a home's garage that didn't have anything living in it for the night. Going to see if any buildings in the area are still safe to hold up in come morning, still want to go over the horses for a day or two. Jim wants to do more fishing, I want some meat. It's a race to see what we eat. Radio acting up._

I don't like the sound of the radio acting up. I hope we don't lose track of them. And I know that their supplies would have run out sooner or later but I'm a little upset I hadn't given them enough to tide them over longer.

Also got a radio call for Dora that she's heading up this way. She must think she has something worth trading as it wasn't that long ago that we saw her at market day. I hope it is something interesting, I want to keep a good trading friendship with her but I don't want to be forced into trading either.

I've got more preserving to do tomorrow so I'm going to make an early night of it. The kids are still working on their "homework" but it really is bed time. I hate to run the lamps too long. The solar lamps don't use any fuel and it helps that the days are getting longer but I don't want to get too dependent on absolutely having to have the lamps either. What if they break?


	201. Day 248

**Day 248 (Thursday) – April 5**

I was too tired to write last night; not feeling much better tonight. Wound up getting the shakes this afternoon and just about passed out in the community kitchen. I did the thoughtless and got too hot and a little dehydrated. You know that kind of woozy feeling you can get when you stand up too fast? Well that's how I felt. I turned around and just sort of tripped over my own feet, knocked a big metal bowl to the floor (empty thank goodness), and then just managed to grab the table to have a controlled fall rather than a full frontal face splat.

The girls ran for Scott and Ski while Betty and Reba got me off the floor. They put a damp rag across my neck and gave me one to wipe my face with; my face being painfully glowing red from a combination of the heat and my embarrassment. Basically Ski said it was what I said, heat and being a little dehydrated. I did the rest of my work sitting down today and I skipped the after-dinner socializing and am sitting on the lanai drinking lemonade made from some cheap, pre-sweetened, powdered drink mix that's just about to gag me. Ask me if I have a choice though … Scott is being the overprotective male and actually measuring the amount I'm drinking and watching to make sure I drink all that Ski said I should.

It all started yesterday. We woke up to a very warm and humid day. It will undoubtedly get worse in the coming months but it is already warm enough now to be well past simply uncomfortable. What really made it worse is that the wind has gone on vacation. Even as I sit here now, the only breeze is what is getting stirred up by all the mosquitoes buzzing this way and that.

As much as I would have liked to stay in the shade I had to get going. The kids helped me to pull out all of the produce in the Cooler and all of the ingredients from the Storehouse that we would need. All that stuff was hauled to the community kitchen. James, Samuel, and Tristan (who is up and around now and eager to be part of things) loaded up all of the wood boxes.

The ovens were still warm from breakfast so it wasn't a big deal to get them heated to temperature but we also heated the kitchen when we did so. Thank goodness that Scott and McElroy installed the large ceiling fans in there just like they did in the Dining Hall. They run on solar power; if the sun is up the fans are spinning. Scott has it on his list to install on/off switches and alternative power sources for cloudy days, but we need to get the new security items built first, and the rest of the demolition done, and … well, the kitchen fans are a priority but not that high up the list as they'll suffice for now either way.

I had the girls start processing items to go in the big drying oven while I went out and took the previous stuff out. I brought the dried trays in and then took the next trays out. The girls continued to process the produce while I packaged up the newly dried items. Betty picked bits and pieces out of what was sitting around and started a cauldron of thick Mexican stew to go with the tortillas that Josephine and Maddie were making on a wood fired rocket stove.

Here is what we canned between yesterday and today: BBQ sauce, basil jelly, beet jelly, beet pickles, beet relish, bell pepper relish, tomato ketchup, bread and butter pickles, cabbage and carrot relish, calico pickles, candied cucumber rings, canned green beans, salsa, antipasto mix (eggplant and sweet peppers), more tomato sauce, more tomato soup, more tomato juice, tomato paste, carrots, chili sauce, pickled garlic, chow chow, mustard beans, hot pepper jelly, copper pennies (pickled carrots), lime pickles, crystal cukes, cucumber relish, curry pickles, dilly beans, Dixie relish, eggplant marmalade (actually better than it sounds), four-pepper-relish, ginger pickles, green tomato catsup, green tomato pickles, habanera jelly, V-8 juice, jalapeno jelly, picante sauce, sweet pickle sticks, pickled hot peppers, watermelon rind pickles, and yellow tomato preserves.

I look at that and think how on earth did we do it? But with a bunch of women and girls, 8 large pressure canners (and a giant boiling water canner for the pickled stuff), and two stoves it really went faster than we had any reason to expect. I want to talk to Scott about the possibility of having a third oven in the kitchen; but one of gas. I'm just not sure how feasible that hydrogen fuel stuff would be to use in an oven. It will light a torch in the machine shop but will it work for an oven or a stove top burner? And what kind of BTUs would we get out of it and burning hours.

On top of the canning we also started some sun-dried tomatoes I'll eventually pack in olive oil and a couple of gallon jars of pickled eggs to replace the ones that we traded.

I did have a short break after lunch when Dora showed up. Yeah, she definitely had something cool to trade with. I guess her boys had found some dairy cows for her and being the entrepreneur that she is, she has now added yogurt to her trade goods. She never answered me directly about where she got her starter for yogurt. She wanted to trade some yogurt for some cheese starter. Reba is in charge of that so she came out and brokered a deal that everyone was happy with.

I didn't pull the last batch out of the last pressure canner until nearly midnight. That was way later than I had intended on being up. I also went through two solar lamp batteries and had to switch to gas lanterns to see to get everything finished up.

Reba has to be up before the cows for milking so Betty and I convinced her to head home after dinner clean-up was finished. Betty had breakfast duty so I eventually got her to agree to go home to be with her family about 9-ish or so.

Slowly everyone headed off but it was no biggie, all I was doing at that point was processing already filled jars and that's nothing but a hurry-and-wait kind of job. Strangely it was Maddie who stayed up with me. She's fallen in love with baby Cinda and had the baby with her because Tyce couldn't sleep – and Tris wouldn't sleep – if he could hear Cinda fussing.

Maddie is a completely different girl from who she used to be. That's not a bad thing but the events that brought the change about sure were. I think the poor thing has been intensely lonely since her mother and twin were killed. Brandon, for all that he has tried to be a decent sort of step-brother, is going through an emotional mess himself and can't help her. In hindsight I wish I had seen what was happening; I should have done more. I picked up Charlene readily enough; however I certainly was thoughtless about poor Maddie. The poor kid still combs her hair to hide the scar she now has when it is really a badge of honor proclaiming her a survivor. I can't change the past but we can certainly move forward from here.

Cinda finally slept and Maddie took her back to the Clinic which remains the temporary living quarters of Tris and Tyce. I learned today that Ski, up because Rilla's little boy had another ear ache, let her sleep near Cinda's bassinet because it was late and it was so obvious she didn't want to go home. The boys can't continue sleeping at the Clinic so Scott is trying to make one of the smaller houses so that Tris can take care of his little brother and baby sister more independently. It wasn't long after Maddie took the baby away that I was able to head home as well and ran into Scott who was on his way home from guard duty.

It didn't feel like I had done much more that put my head on my pillow before Kitty woke me for her first change of the morning and her breakfast … "in that order," exclaimed her majesty. And when Angus gets back he is going to get a lecture. It's got to be him, the rogue.

Uncle Angus thought it was cute to teach Kitty how to get the lids off her sippy cups. I know she is a little young for a sippy cup but I had to wean her off the bottle early because she kept biting holes in the plastic nipples we gave her. She's already a mess, why on earth did he have to teach her that trick too?!

Before breakfast was over I was right back at it. The teens and tweens helped to harvest everything that had ripened since the preceding day and pull everything out of the Cooler we hadn't managed to finish up yesterday.

Today has been even hotter than yesterday and with those big stoves going and the fire pit going for lunch's stew and dumplings it was like being smothered by a wet, hot towel. The sweat was rolling off of me like I was walking in the rain. I was completely soaked from the skin out through all my clothes.

I didn't have any appetite at lunch time though I poked a few bites in my mouth just to keep Scott from getting growly. I was walking from the Dining Hall back to the kitchen when I realized I wasn't feeling well but I was determined to carry on. Dope. I had just finished loading the last bit of Cabbage and Carrot Relish into the jars for processing when I went down.

Ski said at dinner he wants everyone to start carrying a water bottle or canteen with them at all times whether they are inside or outside the Wall. I know that's what I intend on doing. As used to Florida weather as I am, I still got caught flat-footed because I wasn't paying attention. Before I always had the artificial environment of an air conditioned house to escape to. It will be a long time before that comes back around again on any large scale. All the cooling capacity we have right now has to be devoted to food preservation.

Another thing that preyed on my mind yesterday was that we didn't hear from Angus and Jim. It was just a radio foul up though and their report tonight was brief but let us know they were OK. All the modern landmarks have disappeared … billboards, street signs, etc. … so they don't know exactly where they are at but they know how to get home and that's about all I care about.

 _We traveled without any problems west and have started to see more shamblers than before. They seem to be heading in a northerly direction. We have a destination come morning._ _As soon as it was dark the dog barked from behind a row of trees that are behind the building we're camped at._ _Jim checked it out and called me over to look at an odd sight. About a mile south of us there's a house with lights on. Bright light bulb lights; it's like a beacon out here._ _According to the map, if we've got it right, it looks like a development on the far side of a warehouse complex._ _We'll see in the morning._

The pool pump looks like it is working really nice. The pool is still way too cold for me; but give it another couple of weeks and even with the pool cage it will be warm enough for swimming. When that happens Scott and I are thinking about having everyone over to our place for old time sake and having a BBQ and pool party. It wouldn't be easy to pull off and everyone would have to have fun in shifts, but Scott isn't against the idea.

Still no news on the ZKK front though when Dora came by I asked her if she'd had any more trouble from them. She said they come by all the time trying to hustle her kids (biological and adopted) to join up. Dora is another one like us … she's adopted any child she has run across without a caregiver. Last I heard she's got what amounts to a football team at her house.

The last thing we need to fill the vacuum of structure we have is a bunch of little gangsta thugs. Some of them dress so goofy; they remind me of that old Australian teen soap opera where all the adults in the world died of some plague or other. Weird make up, strange hair and/or hair colors, unusual body art and piercings. You know, I'm not really against people expressing themselves I just think if they want to do it let them do it for the right reason … creative expression and not just to intimidate and/or shock for the sake of it. And the girls I saw that hung out with those tools. Somebody really needs to explain to them that one of these days that cute little tattoo up high on their breast is going to wind up bouncing around down by their bellybutton if they don't start wearing a bra with good support. Gravity is a killer.

When I mentioned that fact of life to Dora I thought she was going to fall over laughing. Why do I have a feeling that comment is going to come back and haunt me one of these days?

Scott is giving me "the eye" and looking at his watch. Apparently I've suddenly developed a bedtime similar to the kids. So I want to finish up real quick with something odd. I heard Rilla and Ski talking when I was making one of my trips to the Storehouse to put things away. Seems Curtis has a case of the itchies. I asked Ski, since I was going that way anyway, if he wanted me to get a couple bottles of Calamine lotion to send over to Aldea. Ski kinda smiled this odd, lip-biting grin and said that Calamine wouldn't do it. I wonder what on earth that boy could have gotten into? When I saw him hanging with Ronan and some of the other young bucks at Market Day he seemed fine.


	202. Day 249

_**Day 249 (Friday) – April 6 – Cleaning Day**_

Ha! Scott wanted me to take it easy today but that was a laugh. I did skip gardening and preserving (except for removing the stuff from the big drying oven and getting it packaged up). Instead I worked in the Storehouse trying to catch up on the inventory and rearranging stuff. Yeah, that was a break … not. But I was out of the sun and in general just kind of on my own which was relaxing.

While we were lying in bed last night … and trying to sleep with no breeze stirring to cool things down much … Scott said he was worried about me. I was never this prone to health issues before and he worried that I was getting "frail." As grumpy tired as I was I had a hard time not laughing derisively at that. The last thing I am is frail. OK, I'm slowing down a little and I did run into some trouble with the heat, but that was my own fault for not drinking enough. He says that I've never recovered my health all the way since the boys and I were trapped in that attic. I don't see it that way. But he is honestly worried about me so I do need to take his feelings into consideration I suppose. I expect the same consideration when I worry about him.

He tried to get all dictatorial with me … eh, not in the testosterone poisoning kind of way but like in the worried mate kind of way … but I was able to distract him with the stuff women use to distract their men. After a little while though he again said he didn't want me to work today. I asked him what would be the difference; whether I worked in the garden or not I would still have the kids to deal with 'cause we are sticking to a four-day school week. He said to let him worry about the kids and we wound up compromising that I wouldn't work out in the sun but he wouldn't pitch a fit if I worked in the Storehouse so long as I didn't go overboard.

It actually worked out pretty well though I doubt Scott understood how much effort the Storehouse really needs. After breakfast … omelets, sliced peppers, canned mushrooms, homemade cheese, and dried onions, home canned salsa … I found out Scott had made arrangements to parcel out the kids and he would keep Johnnie and Bubby with him while Al played with Trent. Charlene and Maddie watched Cinda, Kitty, Sis, and Kelly and also watched Ty for part of the time when he wasn't over at Melody's playing with Trent and Al. Bekah bounced around between Scott and the Radio Shack when she wasn't helping in the kitchen or in the garden under the guidance of Cease who had said he would take over dealing with the cornfield since that's what he did when he lived with his grandparents. Sarah bounced between helping with the animals, working in the kitchen, and helping in the cornfield.

I just about didn't know what to do with myself. I felt a little guilty about not having a kid or two in tow … but at the same time it sure was nice to have a bit of a break from it all. I love all my kids … biological or adopted … but it's real easy to lose yourself and your perspective when you never have any breaks from the constant pull and tug. I don't know how much work Scott was actually able to finish but I can say that there were no earth-shattering accidents and neither did the world come to an end. It's kind of nice to know that they can get along without me, at least for a while. Sometimes I worry that I'm not building in enough self-sufficiency. I'm afraid that one of these days my pride might wind up making them too dependent on me. I want my kids to love me … but I have to be careful not to use that love to handicap them. I guess that's the balance all parents try and find.

I made sure all the shutters were open on the Storehouse when I got there. With that I was able to open the blackout curtains and open the windows when I was in a room so it wasn't too stifling hot and dark. I closed the curtains when I left a room and at the end of the day I also shut all the windows. I know it is redundant but the blackout curtains keep any intruders from being able to get in a tree and spy in to see what we have stored. The blackout curtains also keep the sun from fading labels on cans and boxes and causing the stuff in jars or the dried foods from deteriorating too fast. They help reflect the heat out as well which keeps the Storehouse from turning into an oven. Scott has also put that really dark tent on the windows … like the stuff the mob used to use on their limo windows.

With the Storehouse opened up the musty smell began to fade from the upper rooms. I made a note to tell Scott that I think we need more insulation in the attic if possible. That's going to be a mess. Part of the musty smell also came from a mouse trap that hadn't been emptied. Thank goodness it wasn't a big mouse or a rat. I checked all over for any potential ways for it to have gotten into the house but I could find anything. It may have come in inside of something unless it came in one of the roof vents.

Most of the upstairs rooms have already been inventoried and it was just a matter of adding new items to the totals that hung on clip boards on the door to each room. Most of the downstairs rooms have been inventoried as well, but that was not as well organized and I had no idea if stuff had been taken out and was unaccounted for. The first two rooms that I worked on were messy but matched the spreadsheet. The next room was only off by a couple of items and was easy to fix. The room after that however was a mess.

This was the room where all the new items come into so there is stuff lying all over. It also didn't have a door being the house's former large family room so the spreadsheet to keep track of additions and subtractions wasn't as obvious so people apparently would forget. And it was also where I found the most mouse damage as they are or were coming in a gap that has appeared at the bottom of the door on the rear of the house. The door is metal but the doorframe for that entryway is wood. That meant another note for Scott.

I banged together some shelving units that we've taken from the garages of some of the houses we demolished. These I added in the middle of the floor like library shelves would be. When I was finished there were shelves all along the walls in the family room, plus there were five rows of shelves lining the floor. The shelves would let me push a grocery cart down between rows but only with a couple of inches to spare on either side. I wish now that we had managed to take more of the grocery store shelves before the first Big Fire burned down the structure but hindsight is 20/20. On all of these shelves I organized our home canned produce but before I could get started on that Scott came by and made sure that I knew it was lunch time.

Lunch was a salad bar kind of deal with tortillas and veggie fajita mix for those that needed something more substantial than "rabbit food." Waleski spent some time I guess going over the menu that we have planned in advance and made a few suggestions here and there. Betty and Reba humored him and I'm pretty sure we can use his suggestions without detrimentally impacting our supplies. He wants us to add more juices and fruits and to try and maybe fry more things and/or use more butter to add some fats and sugars to our diets. Makes sense, certainly can't hurt.

Iggy added that he'd like to check all the kids' teeth tomorrow. I guess there are dietary changes that you can tell my looking at the teeth … lack of dairy or other vitamins/minerals I think. Lines on the teeth, appearance of the gums, etc. It's really not a bad idea at all. None of my kids have complained beyond the tooth that Bekah lost and Rose's wisdom teeth moving around a bit as they try and come in all the way. The adults should probably have someone look at their teeth as well but Ski is clueless about dentistry beyond yanking them out if they hurt too bad. Angus took care of Jim's tooth for him with a punch that knocked it clean out. Don't think I'm too anxious to try Angus' cure however.

After lunch I went back to the Storehouse and started moving things all around, trying to figure out what would be the best way to arrange each type of home canned stuff. The family room was the home-canned veggie items; the dining room was the home-canned fruit stuff. The old kitchen, now taken back to bare walls thanks to Scott and some of the other men, was where we still had what was left of the commercially canned stuff in the big #10 cans but that meant that we had all sorts of stuff in there like fruits, veggies, sauces, nacho cheese, pie filling, and pudding. The long term dried stuff in #10 cans is in one of the rooms upstairs.

I had been messing around with that for a bit when Maddie and Charlene came over with the littles. They also brought Tristan and Tyce with them. Tyce wants to play with the littles so bad but he isn't ready to leave his brother yet. Tris seems to have a deep well of patience for him, like some older boys seem to have for little kids, and was content to help the girls keep our youngest residents out of trouble.

This is the first time I've really spent more than a few minutes with either boy. Tris thanked me for helping with Cinda and talked about how he'd like to say that he could have made it without our help but knew that really wasn't the case. I thought that was rather mature of him. Maddie nudged him a bit when he got quiet and then he continued asking questions about what went on here in Sanctuary and how could his small family fit in. Right off I found out that Tris had been going to Tampa Bay Tech charter school and studying auto mechanics. I told him I'd mention it to Scott and Dix but likely he'd be of most use helping Conrad retrofit some vehicles to use alternative fuels so that we could get around without having to worry so much about lack of petrol.

I had the little kids help stack the 16 ounce sized cans on the bottom shelves but that lasted all of 15 minutes before they were itching to leave and go back outside. I laughed and shooed them off with no hard feelings.

About four o'clock Scott came by with the boys and we had "tea and cookies." More like iced tea sweetened with honey and the first Rice Crispie candies that I had seen in nearly a year. Apparently one of the things that Betty had the kids doing this morning was going through some of the plastic tubs and stuff that had been sitting in the storage container closest to the kitchen. Several of them contained boxes of cereals and I vaguely remember Dante' asking about how long breakfast cereal lasted before packing them up. I thought they'd been used long ago. It made for a nice treat but you could tell the cereal was getting stale. When I asked where all the rest of the boxes where Scott told me that Betty and Reba are going to keep them in the kitchen and let the kids make tea-time treats with them for how many days they last. I need to get over there and pull some of the boxes out and send them over to Aldea. They've got kids over there too.

After tea time I showed Scott around the inside of the Storehouse while the boys played outside. Then he helped me close all the windows while I wrote on his work order pad the things that needed to be done. The last thing I did was put some hot peppers down where I had seen the mouse damage. Angus mentioned that he'd seen hot peppers used to kill mice – they eat them and it poisons them or something like that - so I'll give it a try. It's not like we are short of them or anything. Glory knows I'll have plenty to take to the next Market Day even after drying and canning all that we can possibly use.

From the Storehouse I went home and did a few things around the house but Charlene and the girls had gotten most of the regular work finished already. I decided to wash my hair so that it would have time to dry before bedtime.

I'm running low on conditioner again and this time I don't know how much is left in our supplies. I may be reduced to using mayonnaise as a hair conditioner. We've got jars and jars of that stuff in the storehouse but we've taken to making homemade when we want it. It'll probably leave an odd smell in my hair unless I mix some herbs or something in there, maybe rosemary, lavender, or sage. But my hair is too long to go without conditioner too often. I'd use olive oil but I hesitate to use any of our better cooking oils. In July when the avocados start coming in I can use avocado pulp. Well, at least I have a plan.

I just had time to rinse my hair and get it combed out before Scott and the kids were ready to go to the Dining Hall. Dinner was leftovers from lunch plus a grain "meatloaf" that tasted pretty good when you put ketchup or salsa on it. I haven't missed having meat today but some of the guys are grumbling a little bit. James, who I think is going through a growth spurt, certainly can't seem to get full.

Tomorrow however I have a treat in mind. We've planned for a couple of weeks for this. We are going to have pizza; as much pizza as everyone can eat.

After dinner we had a lot of things to discuss and first of which was Angus and Jim's radio report:

 _We have some things to report today. The home we checked out is a future vacation spot for Sissy and some of the other women back home. It's home to some new friends, Tom and his brother in-law John. It's actually three homes surrounded by an old iron fence. The boys have collected probably every solar panel in this part of Florida and have the place running like the world never ended. They have a stockpile of them in one of the houses and Tom is making a run to Sanctuary tomorrow and bringing a load for payment of medical treatment. He needs to see Ski really bad. Tell the hospital to get ready for an infected eye. He's had brick debris in it for a long time and I think it has stuff ground up in there. It's bad. John is staying here as they don't want to leave the place abandoned. There's another hyena pack down this way that might be bigger than the one we dealt with. The storm troopers have set up a small outpost or research station really close to Tom and John's place. They moved in after the fire and Tom and John watched their movements for a few weeks but all movement stopped about a week ago. Jim and I think it needs a little more investigating. Tomorrow or the next day we'll get to that. Today I intend to float in their above ground pool for a bit._

I know for a fact that Angus and Jim wouldn't have given up our location on a whim. This guy must really be worth something but be in bad enough shape that he needs serious medical intervention. Dix has already radioed over the OSAG and Steve is sending over Chad who was a doctor-in-training pre-NRS. We might also get Len's wife – this is a member that I've never met – but she was a pharmacist and is only just now getting training in actual hands-on healthcare. Between Chad, Waleski, and Iggy we should be able to help this guy. The thing is, I don't know what time tomorrow he is going to be getting here. If he leaves first thing in the morning and is driving a truck he'll make the trip in a lot less time than it has taken Angus and Jim on horseback.

The next thing we talked over was where we are on food. I reported on what I'd discovered in the Storehouse and what we'd been adding over the last week or so. I also mentioned the few shortages I was noting, though nothing was absolutely critical at the moment. Betty gave a heads up on the issue that we need to finish going through all of the steel storage containers owing to the fact that we may be losing the use of stuff simply because we don't know what we have in there. Reba reported on the dairy production and Mr. Morris on the animals and apiary.

I did raise the fact that we need to be more careful noting when things are removed from the Storehouse. It wasn't a bad problem right now because only a limited number of people really go in there but of particular I mentioned that a whole gallon of vinegar was missing. No one admitted to taking an entire gallon so I suppose I could have miscounted at the last inventory but it just seems really strange and there is even a perfect circle in the dust where a gallon jug would have set.

From there the guys started talking about weapons and cars. Bob is doing a killer job on machining the parts for the calista, ballista or whatever the heck the thing is called and some of the other gizmos that he and Scott had sketched out when Glenn was over. They've got a couple of working models and once they test them they'll start making more of them. Conrad, rather embarrassed by the attention, reported that they've got three different alternative vehicles being assembled. First is one that will work on the hydrogen fuel that they are mass producing at Aldea. The second is a methane vehicle. The last is a wood burning car. Once they get one of those three up and running they are going to give a steam engine car a try. Bob is also going over all those old steam engines that we brought back from the fairgrounds what seems like a lifetime ago. Scott was able to reassemble them but he couldn't figure out how to bring them up to pressure (or whatever it was he was having trouble with) so they'd actually work.

That naturally worked into the topic of security. We've witnessed a few helicopters way off in the distance and some reconnaissance airplanes flying at high altitudes but we haven't been contacted by the military or the NRSC folks since right after the Hive came through. We thought we'd get some more patrols through here of one flavor or another but not a thing so far. Radio reports are of some minor skirmishes along the coast with pirates and raiders but nothing inland except up around Tyndall AFB and Panama City Naval Center. There might have been some at the Army's training center in Orlando but that was never confirmed.

You'd think at a bare minimum we'd see some AWOL folks from the NRSC but nada. Something is hinky with that … or maybe there aren't enough left to go AWOL or they've blended in so well we'd never spot them. Who knows?

We do know that the civil war taking place between the NRSC of the Central Zone and the factions in the Quarantine Zones is heating up. The Quarantine Zones and their factions are being egged on externally by the battle between the NRSC who claim to support the Federal Government and those in the Federal Government who are trying to dislodge the NRSC from power.

Meanwhile the US Military machine has had to direct efforts and energy to protecting Alaska from being invaded by forces that are after the natural resources that can be found there. Not all of the details are clear but it's no one single country but a coalition of forces out of the Sino-Russian border region. That sucks.

Dix picked up a weak signal that claimed to be out of Paris and another out of Brasilia. Bob was able to decipher most of the French but the one out of Brazil was more problematic. They speak Portuguese down in Brazil, not Spanish. Scott and Iggy could figure out a few words of what was being said but the woman was talking too fast for them to get much, not enough to make sense of what was being said.

And with that we broke up for the night. Most of the kids were asleep on their feet if they weren't asleep in someone's lap. If you've ever carried a sleeping child you know what I mean when I say that it felt like we were carrying sacks of potatoes over our shoulders on the way home in the dark.

On the way home Rose told me that Angus left her a hilarious gift before he left. The puppies had gotten hold of his shelaleigh the week before he and Jim left and chewed it up pretty good. I expected him to be mad but he wasn't. He said he shouldn't have left it where they could get at it. By the time he cleaned it up it was too short for his liking and he made himself a new one. I thought he'd thrown the old one on the wood pile. Well, the joke was Rose found a box with her name on it and inside the box was Angus' old shelaleigh only it was painted pink. Tied to the club was a card with the words "Dating Accessory" written on it. Scott and I thought it was funny; David wasn't sure he did however. The way Bekah was snickering I knew something was up and after we got home I asked her what was going on. Apparently she had been Angus' partner-in-crime and had helped him find the pink paint. First lidless sippy cups and now this. I don't know who is worse, the kids or "Uncle Angus."


	203. Day 250

_**Day 250 (Saturday) – April 7**_

I tell you this day has been pretty intense. The best way to start it off I guess isn't at the beginning but at the end the day and then go back to the beginning. After radioing to Angus and Jim that our visitor had arrived so that they could tell his people we got a few more details from them on the situation:

 _ **Not sure if I reported this on the radio or in the journal, but it needs to be recorded so here it is again. John and Tom have informed us that their place is used as a safe stop-over spot for a large survivor group that has its headquarters south of them. According to John they're a large group and well organized. They are also very unfriendly to outsiders. The information given to us by John is that they are rumored to control a large section of south Florida and are very territorial. From reports John and Tom get from some of the few smaller groups they have contact with, the big group deals fairly with the groups already in their territory but run out any that try to migrate south.**_ _ **Apparently the stop-over here is for when they make northern runs. The guys have no idea what they do on these runs as they don't seem to have extra supplies on their return trips as they would if they were on gathering or trading runs. John has commented that they listen to the radio broadcasts made by some of the northern survivors but don't have a radio that can make contact with them; they can listen but not transmit. Maybe we could help with that?**_

Tom arrived here late in the afternoon. He tried to be cheerful but you could tell that the trip had made an already difficult situation even worse for him and he was in a lot of pain. Ski and Iggy went to work on him just about as fast as he came in the gate but despite being able to clean the eye out, between the original damage and the infection, there wasn't a lot they could do. They called OSAG and Chad will be over at first light tomorrow. If he concurs that there isn't anything to be done … a second opinion by the closest thing to a graduated doc we have around here … they'll probably take the eye out to prevent continued infection. As it is some of the infection has drained down into his sinuses so they'll have to deal with that as well. And the surrounding tissue is also enflamed which could spell some very serious trouble.

Tom appears resigned to the loss of his eye. He'd already accepted at a bare minimum he'd lost any real sight in it. Apparently it's the generalized pain that has been driving him crazy and from which he is seeking relief. Still, it's sad. Up to this point we've either gotten full recoveries or total losses when it has comes to patients. I guess that couldn't last and Iggy reiterated that the longer the current situation lasts the more likely we are to start returning to pioneer level mortality rates, especially with children that are unvaccinated or who don't have adequate caregiver situations. A picture of the hangdog look he had on his face when he said this would have been perfect beside the signs he has been nailing up all over creation telling people how important it is for the children to maintain a high level of hygiene.

We still have supplies of some vaccines that don't require refrigeration … the ones that did went bad before we could gather them up … but even they won't last forever in quantity or efficacy. The antibiotics too; we can use most of them well passed their expiration dates but eventually they'll be useless and we'll be forced to make do with more traditional healing and prevention practices. Sanctuary has already dealt once with dysentery and some mild viruses that have made the rounds since we live in such close quarters. I don't know what we'll do if faced with anything worse.

Most of the beginning of the day was spent the way we normally spend time; but also in anticipation of our "guest."

Breakfast was cornmeal pancakes and fruit salad. After breakfast I started some of the kids slicing carrots to go into the drying oven. I may have overplanted the carrots a wee bit … ok, I may have overplanted by a lot; we'll see. I already have a patch of them that I'm allowing to go to seed. And I have a small patch of carrots in the corner of one of the gardens that have been damaged by nematodes; the damaged ones I've given to Sarah and Samuel to feed the horses, mules, and goats as training treats. The llamas and alpacas also like carrots and the broccoli that bolted in the recent heat wave as treats. I'm trying to get the big male llama that seems to dig trying to "swoof" his breath on the back of my neck to pull a cart around. Don't tell Scott but that llama … the one I call Big Boy … has the same technique that he does; they both make me jump and give me shivers. I tried the wagon pulling this with Ol' Billy but to say he was uncooperative would be an understatement of massive proportions.

In addition to the carrots I dried several trays of peppers – both the mild ones and the hot ones. When Glenn swung by today I gave him a small basket of purple tiger hot peppers to take back to Saen. He started sweating and his eyes started watering in anticipation. I also gave him a bag of sweet banana peppers and some pimentos to take over to Phillip at OSAG.

Lee, whom I hadn't seen in a while, was there and I asked after his family. Anne is having a hard time adjusting to the heat and humidity but apparently she has started a little flock of chickens that she is having fun with. The only thing she doesn't like is one of her chicks turned out to be a rooster and its getting mean already. He said she's got some good size whelps on the back of her legs where the thing lays in wait and then comes out and runs at her. They'll turn Mr. Rooster into chicken and dumplings when he puts a little more size on him. The kids are both doing OK except they got into chiggers when they were playing some Spanish moss that had fallen out of the trees.

I asked them both how Curtis was doing and they both busted out laughing. I still don't get the joke. Must be a guy thing. But since they were laughing I figure the problem, whatever it was, must have been addresses and he's all right.

I saw Dix and Scott talking to Glenn and after he and Lee left I asked Scott if they had asked after Dante' and Tina. Dix just gave me that fisheye that he gets when he thinks I'm acting spooky. Scott, just snorted and called me "nosey." I'm not nosey, just … concerned.

Anyway, Dante' has been dang near angelic apparently since his outburst. All he has been drinking is water and he never complains at all about the extra duty rotations he is assigned on every cycle. He spends time with his son, but apparently he doesn't know how to approach Tina. Anytime something comes up he asks one of the other women to ask on his behalf. He hasn't even mentioned moving back in with his family. I guess you can't expect things to right themselves overnight but I wish they would at least try to work on things together.

While I was slicing carrots and dealing with peppers – I even made a pepper wreath out of all the cayenne peppers that have ripened – Betty took charge of all the stuff that is coming in out of the native grove. Let's see we've got custard apples, star apples, black sapote, tropical apricots, loquats, cherries of the rio grande, grumichama, calamondin, and key limes. The ones we call apples aren't really like domesticated apples at all but they are kind of shaped like an alien version of an apple.

You know what I found out today that I didn't know? Betty told me if you squeeze the juice out of the leaves of the custard apple tree you wind up with a natural lice killer. Iggy was all over that bit of information because he said one of the kids he checked over on Market Day had lice so bad he'd scratched bloody patches in his scalp and looked like he had mange. Iggy had had to stop in the middle of his exams and strip down and scrub down after he saw that kid. He threw the scrubs he was wearing in a fire pit rather than risk bringing them back to Sanctuary for a wash. Ick. Just the idea of lice makes me want to go slather myself up in medicated shampoo and body wash. I wonder if that is what Curtis had … but that's nothing to laugh at for Pete's Sake. Men and their little secrets.

The cherry of the rio grande isn't really a cherry, it just tastes like one. I'm going to save the fruit in the Cooler until I have enough to can them whole like regular cherries, or maybe make some jam or jelly with them. There are a whole slew of small trees back in the grove that have been blooming since March and now the fruit is ready.

We're coming to the tail end of the loquats and that makes me a bit sad. They've added a lot to our fruit bowl we try and put out at meal times. I've already got all the canned loquats I need so everything from here on out will be used fresh. I saw Mr. Morris out in the grove so likely he's taking some of the leftovers to make Loquat Wine with.

The grumichama are another cherry-flavored fruit but these are easily damaged as you pick them as they are very tender. You need to use them the day you pick them. For dessert at tea time we boiled them up all that was picked today with a little sweetening and then cooked dumplings in the bubbling mess. It was good if you like cherry-flavored stuff, not everyone does.

The mysore raspberries look just like domesticated raspberries, right down to the canes and leaves. And they are very briar-y too; the canes and leaves are covered with them. Clay Jr. was over there helping his mom and he killed a good sized rattler in the canes. If it had been in the orange grove I might have been tempted to cut it some slack and let it go but the kids go over to the native grove too often. Besides, we need the meat and this thing was nearly six feet long and weighed in at nearly 8 pounds. They told me it looked like a Diamond Back but I haven't seen the skin yet.

I took the small bucket of tamarind pods and make agua de tamarind for anyone that wanted some. Scott loves to drink tamarindo soda but I'm not sure if I can replicate it or not. I'm pretty sure that they use tamarind in Thai cooking as well so I need to ask Saen if she wants me to save her any. There are lots of things that you can use the fruit's pulp for and the unused pod pieces are great to add to the compost pile. Betty tells me that in Malaysia they use the pulp as a topical application to bring malaria temperatures down. That had Ski and Iggy both scribbling in their note pads.

Lunch today was pretty simple as it was another fresh food buffet … veggies, fruits, crackers, dips. Basically everyone just grazed until they were full. I already reported we had fruit and dumplings at tea time.

All afternoon we kept working on whatever chore was next on our to-do list but everyone was anxiously waiting the man that Angus and Jim had sent to us. Dix, being the distrustful sort he is, doubled the Wall guards just to be on the safe side. He also told Glenn what was going on and Glenn said he would relay it to those at OSAG. There are some things you can do over the radio and some things that are just best shared face-to-face without fear of the neighbors hearing.

Sure enough not too long after Tea Time, a truck showed up to our south. It stopped, like whoever was driving couldn't make up his mind which direction he needed to take. Dix sent McElroy and Cease out on the motorcycles to see if this was indeed the man we'd been expecting. It was and he had in the back of the truck the load of solar panels he wanted to trade for medical attention. The guy … Tom … was really uptight until we proved who we were. I guess he's run into trouble a time or two and carrying all those solar panels put him at risk. At least he had the sense to pack them so that it didn't look like he was carrying what amounted to Fort Knox in the back of a pickup truck.

Apparently Angus had told him to ask what gift he had left for Rose as a kind of code so that he could be really sure that we were who we said we were. When we provided the right answer that finally calmed him down, at least as far knowing who we are. The poor man was in pretty bad shape and he's been in pretty constant pain since the injury occurred even with the pain killers they were able to scavenge. But when Ski gave him the diagnosis he was almost relieved; at least he finally knew for sure and there was a treatment plan to follow.

Tom was wiped out and didn't come to the Dining Hall but Rilla took him a plate that he ate willingly. Luckily Scott finished the cute little house this morning and Tris moved over there with Tyce and Cinda. I'm not real comfortable with him doing it but Scott told me he has the right to try and I have to agree with that. Both Charlene and Maddie have said they will help watch Cinda since they already help with Kitty. The two girls also went by Rhonda's today and let her take a short nap while the baby fussed until it was feeding time again.

So Tris and his little family have moved out of the Clinic and Rose and Melody spent the day sanitizing everything, especially the "surgery," in case Chad agrees that Tom's eye will have to come out. I'm not sure what the recovery is on that type of procedure. Rilla said that Ski told her it will depend on what they find when they actually get the eye out. The more infection is back inside the socket and in the surrounding tissue, the longer the recovery period will be. I can't imagine that it will be less than a week and certainly I can't see our guys letting him drive all the way back home by himself. A little voice inside my head tells me that this is the perfect excuse for a couple of them from here or Aldea to make a little run.

For dinner Reba cut the rattlesnake into serving size pieces and then fried it up and then covered it with some ham gravy made from a couple cans of spam that we diced up. Basically you flour up the snake pieces and fry them up then remove them to a platter where they can drain. To the drippings in the pan you add flour, milk, the diced ham, and a little coffee if you have it (we still do but not for long). You've got to stir constantly so nothing scorches or sticks to the bottom of the skillet. The gravy is done when it is as thick as you like it.

We fixed biscuits to go with it and Rilla said Tom was surprised that we still had flour, most everyone down his way have run out … or claim to have anyway. We also scalloped some of the kohlrabi that came fresh out of the garden today as well. For dessert there was either popcorn or the last of today's fruit bowl. Might not have been a meal I would have served with any regularity pre-NRS; but on the other hand it wasn't anything to put your nose up at either.

Betty, the sneaky woman, has promised the kids that if they have their entire homework assignment ready to turn in on Monday and it looks like they made a good effort, we'll have an ice cream social Monday night barring anything coming up – zombies, raiders, locusts, wrath of God kind of stuff. I hope that means we'll have a quiet Rest Day tomorrow so that the adults can focus on helping Tom out.

We were all ready to go off to guard duty or home when the dogs started going crazy. That's never a good sign.

The dogs were having a hissy fit at the back gate and not because they were acting glad to see someone either. Mischief and Mayhem were baying their big dog parks. Butch and Sundance were snarling and snapping and showing their teeth. All four dogs had the ruffs of their necks standing straight up. Mischief's three remaining pups – the ones I called Huey, Dewey, and Louey due to their propensity for getting in trouble – were imitating the big dogs except their barks sounded more like puppy yelps. Even Sarah's dog Pup was standing stiff-legged and silent refusing to let the puppies (all now bigger than she is) from getting any nearer to the rear gate than they already were. I watched her nip the butt of one of them but couldn't tell which in the dark. All I know is I a heard the yelp and the puppy returned to formation behind her.

McElroy and Kevin had grabbed the big dogs' leashes and were straining to hold onto them but did manage to get them quiet enough.

"Yo James! Dude! You up there? Momma's hurt! Dude we don't need to come in in … just let us inside the gate. Come on man! Sommat's chasing us!"

I vaguely recognized the gravel-y voice but it was the fact that he was calling James by name and talking about "Momma" that clued me in that it was one of Dora's sons.

Dix had gone up to the gallery on top of the gate just in time to see a couple of other boys come barreling out of the overgrowth and into the clear area we now keep around the entire perimeter of Sanctuary. I heard later from James that Dora was bouncing around like a rag doll in the rickshaw that she and the boys normally had hooked up to a bicycle that pulled her trade goods.

In the distance as soon as all the noise of their running had calmed down you could hear in the distance even more commotion. Dix signaled for the gate to be cracked open just enough for the boys and Dora to enter and then it was quickly closed again.

Dix had James go down to the inner gate so that he could talk with Theo … that's the boy's name that I'm always forgetting. There is a small spyhole abou – inches with a little sliding door across it. Through the grill Theo gave a quick rundown of their situation while James pushed a bottle of water through. Dix told me that none of the three boys touched it despite all of them sweating profusely, they took it immediately to Dora to wipe her face with it.

Dora and four of her "sons" had been on a trade run to what they thought was a new family group to the west of us. The story they got on the radio was that the family group had moved into an old farm at the corner of Van Dyke Road and Dale Mabry Hwy. That description fit the Old Geraci place. We'd been expecting people to re-inhabit the farm for months so I doubt I would have been unusually suspicious either.

Dora, who's been working on getting some of the least deranged of the filthies back amongst the land of the sane, first completed a trade at the corner of Bearss Avenue and Dale Mabry Hwy with a mother and three children (soap) and then had to deal with one of the bands of monkeys that have taken up residence over that way. They are a bloody nuisance as we well know from our own previous experience.

Dora and the boys got to the rendezvous point an hour late. No one was out and about but then they heard some shrill screams and laughter coming from the old farmhouse. Deciding that maybe these people weren't going to make good customers after all they turned to leave only to find themselves surrounded by a group of people dressed in ZKK insignia.

It was a brutal fight after that. Theo isn't sure, there hadn't been much time to really think about it in depth as they were running, but he believes the gang had lured them there to steal their stuff or kill them since their family refused their offer to become members. Dora was hurt badly but was still lucid when they were tossed into a large kennel house. What was so terrifying was that there were zombies of all make and model behind the cages.

They were left in the kennel while most of the ZKK members headed back to the house or to guard the road into the property. Jorey, a boy entirely too small for his age and not quite right in his head, was separated from them around lunchtime. The man that took him, said that if Dora and the boys behaved the boy wouldn't be hurt but he was gonna help them do some cooking.

The ZKK had set up a crack kitchen … or some kind of drug that had to be cooked up … in the old farmhouse. What the gang didn't know was that Jorey had been abused pre-NRS by his drug addicted mother's many "boyfriends." As a result, and because of his brain damage, he had a pathological hatred of anything related to drugs. It wasn't two hours before there was a small explosion that took out half the house.

The explosion ripped out of the rear of the farmhouse and back towards the kennel with enough force to partially knock in one of the walls. Unfortunately it also tore loose one of the gates in front of a concrete stall. But Theo and the other two boys had been planning their escape nearly since their capture. They just hadn't expected it to happen so precipitously.

They grabbed Dora and pulled her out through the bowed in section just ahead of the zombie that had escaped from the stall. The zombie was following them to escape when the front half of the farmhouse blew knocking Dora and the boys to the ground and the zombie back into the kennel building.

Theo only had a split second to change his decision to go after Jorey, nothing could have survived the blast and there was no time for shock and grief; instead they headed towards the remains of their traveling contraption. The bikes were destroyed and the only thing left usable was the rickshaw. The boys loaded Dora up and concluded that they were going to need help. They intended to head our way to see if Waleski would check on her.

They couldn't go to the main road as that was the direction that the rest of the ZKK members were running from. They headed deeper into the old farm and had just about reached the tree line hoping to disappear when they heard shouting, "There they are!"

They headed deep into the old tree lot hoping to get someplace where the ZKKers on their motorcycles could following them or find them. They were running this way and that for over an hour and got completely turned around. As they came to the edge of the fire break they saw that the ZKKers were there ahead of them. It was what they were driving thought that turned them inside out.

It were two chariots pulled by runner zombies. If I hadn't seen this nightmare with my own eyes I would say that the boys' terror had simply given them hallucinations. What kind of sick mind would come up with something like that?! Having seen it I know it wasn't really a true conveyance but was designed more for shock and awe, for fear and intimidation.

The two chariots patrolled the burned over area. The motorcycles were gaining on the boys. Dora tried to get them to leave her and escape but the boys refused to leave the woman who had taken them in and cared for them and fed them when no one else had been there to do so. Then there was a ruckus in the distance that caused a lot of vultures to take wing and the guys on motorcycles took off that direction thinking that is was their escapees.

The boys grabbed the opportunity and started heading east thinking they would come out near our front gate. Somehow the drivers of the chariots must have realized that the guys on the bikes were wrong and they began following a parallel path to what the boys were on. The chariots would work in the woods and marshy areas but as soon as they tried to cross US 41 they were spotted.

Then the boys realized their mistake. Somehow, while avoiding the motorcycles and getting turned around they went too far north and would have to cross over US41 and backtrack to the south and try and come to us from that direction. The chariot drivers knew that they dare not get too close to us using main roads or we'd like take umbrage and destroy their "vehicles" so they followed the boys' progress through the shrubbery, getting ever closer as the traveling became easier.

They finally reached us and the barebones of their story was told, much quicker of course than I've related it.

The first thing to do was to verify the physical aspects of their story and to make sure they weren't hiding zombie bites or infectious wounds. The boys were instructed to stand back and away from Dora and Dix went in and covered Waleski while he first checked Dora over. The two younger boys bristled until Theo told them to knock it off. "You mess up Momma's chance of gettin' some first aid and I'll mess you up. You got that?!"

Dora was suffering from mild shock and dehydration, a knock on the head, and prolonged pain from her more minor injuries … but no bites. The boys also all checked out though they were just as beat up as Dora.

James helped Theo to careful load Dora onto a stretcher and carry her over to the Clinic. One of the younger boys was giving Scott the eye until Scott got down in his face and went, "What are you looking at kid?"

"I know you. You were my auntie's Rent Man."

Some of our tenants used to call Scott the "Rent Man." Turns out the boy recognized Scott because he'd given them a couple of bikes that he'd found abandoned near one of our dumpsters. I didn't recognize the woman's name and Scott barely did. She was one of Carlo's girlfriends that had had the sense to leave quicker than some of the others had. We could have made a small fortune selling the bikes Scott found abandoned at our different properties but he always just gave them to any kid that looked like he could use a bike.

Theo and James returned quickly leaving Waleski with Rose and Melody taking care of Dora. Theo told the younger boys that Dora was gonna get better. There wasn't much time for more than that however because the dogs had gone into silent alarm mode, not knowing whether to go to the front gate or rear.

The closer ruckus was coming to the Rear Gate. You could actually hear a couple of men cussing and straining to control what they were driving. The braking mechanism on the chariots was sadistic. Someone had forced cables through the chest cavities of the eight zombies that pulled each chariot. Where the cable exited out their front it was attached to a round, flat piece of metal too large to be ripped back through the cable's path. The length of cable that came out of the zombies back was strung through some eye-rings along the single bar yoke that attached to the basket of the chariot. The ends of the cables were attached to the braking leaver attached to each wheel of a chariot. When the leaver was pulled, a wagon brake engaged and the wheels stopped turning. The Wagon brake also pulled on the cables that were threaded through each zombie. A final braking tool was the anchor at the back of the chariot that caused further drag preventing the zombies from movie forward … sort of. Runners are runners. They never stop, not really. I don't even want to think of the number of mistakes they made until they finally built a chariot that actually operated without major catastrophe.

"Ahoy the gate! We are looking for some punks that killed some of our people and wrecked up our home! Seen 'em around?!" one of the ZKKers called, trying to bluff their way out of the confrontation.

Dix said one word, "No." and then looked at James and Bob. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. Sixteen easy headshots for sixteen zombies. The two humans … well, relatively speaking they were human … ran off into the trees after the first couple of shots.

You know, I've discovered that lack of caffeine isn't the only thing that can get ol' Bob a wee bit uptight. The man must have been cussing in at least five different languages at the first sight of the chariots. I think Dix gave him the nod instead of Cease just so he could blow off some of the steam he had built up.

That took care of the ruckus at the Rear Gate, now all we had to figure out was how to deal with the sounds of motorcycles coming down the highway towards the Front Gate.

Charlene and Maddie ran over to me and asked if it was all right that Tris had brought Tyce and Cinda over. I nodded and then they asked if they needed to prepare to have other people come in for a siege. I told them that I wasn't sure but to just stand ready just in case and to keep the kids quiet and occupied if possible.

In events like this I'm always torn between bunkering down with the kids or being in the thick of things so I can know what is going on. There didn't seem to be any immediate danger of anyone breeching our Wall so I opted to remain outside in case they needed all hands on deck.

The motorcycles came near our front gate but made no threatening action besides circling Sanctuary. Even after making it to the Rear Gate and spotting the remains of the chariots, and then picking up the two drivers who ran out of the bushes, they didn't try and get any kind of response from us. They just started riding around and around and around Sanctuary.

A lot of the men were getting hacked off. It was a passive aggressive move like they wanted to see who would blink first; trying to get a rise out of us rather than us forcing them to make the first move. Two can play that game and we have more patience to play the game right.

Theo's two little brothers were beginning to get scared. They'd been through quite enough already and this war of nerves was more than they could handle. After making sure that Theo saw me walking them over to our house I asked Charlene and Maddie to get the boys some wash water to clean up with and then to give them some broth. After that if they were still hungry to give them some milk and some bread and butter. Both boys needed more fat in their diet from what I could tell. Dora obviously does what she can, but she has a houseful to deal with.

I met Theo on the way back outside and asked him if he wanted some milk. He said, "No thank you ma'am. I'm allergic to cow milk." I then told him I had goat milk and his eyes got big and hungry. As we walked over to the Cooler so I could get him some goat milk he explained some of the details of their story that I've already notated but he also told me that he would need to head out at first light to let the rest of the family know what had happened to them. "They know to lock up tight if we aren't back by dark but they'll still be scared and worried. The older girls aren't strong enough to last for long on their own. I don't think the ZKK knows where our home base is but I don't like taking chances."

Good gravy, this boy is too young to be thinking like he has to think. Similar to James, he's been forced to decide between childish pursuits or those of a man … and his choice is obvious. He is going to be a man, even if it kills him.

From the sound of things the motorcycles had some of their gangsta brotherhood show up. In addition to the motorcycles, there were now several vehicles circling our Wall; and their speed was beginning to go higher and they were gunning their engines aggressively. I saw Scott playing with one of the toys he had been putting together. He was quietly wrestling them into position. I looked around the Wall and saw that several were about to be used.

"Ma'am what are those things?"

"Those things" were high powered spotlights that we had jacked off of all the abandoned NRSC vehicles we could find. Since they were already wired to run off of batteries it was almost too easy to position mounts for them around the Wall and then wire them into batteries that were swapped out once a week to make sure they were fully charged and ready when we needed them. Up to this point we'd never needed them.

The reason why Scott was happy to play with the spotlights was because their covers were some type of bullet-proof plexi glass. A bullet – well aimed or not – wasn't going to shatter them like it would a regular light cover. I could almost hear the gleeful giggle that was going on inside Scott's head. He'd told me of some of his plans. All I could tell Theo was to avoid looking at the lights once they came on as I watched the men don dark sunglasses.

At Dix's signal all of the lights came on at the same time. Even not looking at them directly I had sunspots in my eyes; I can't imagine what it must have been like for the gangbangers that were caught flatfooted driving around the Wall. I heard lots of squealing and crashing and then the spotlights were shut off and dropped down so they wouldn't be impediments to the guards' aim.

More than a little freaked out, the ZKKers started firing wildly but with their night vision destroyed they weren't hitting anything except each other. Once they actually started taking decent aim at us, Dix gave the order to fire back with intent to fully immobilize. That wasn't anything more than a euphemism for if fired upon, return fire with extreme prejudice; the "immobilize" part meant head shots so that bullets wouldn't have to be wasted later to sanitize them.

It was over in less than 45 minutes; time for clean-up had arrived. The problem turned out to be the cleanup has proven more complicated than all the rest of it.

After a brief huddle it was decided to bring in all of the ZKK vehicles. Theo confirmed that the ZKK is a large organization, there is no way that the battle killed them all. If their friends came looking for them later, the less evidence there is the better. We'd maintained radio silence through everything but apparently they haven't unless their friends showing up was a coincidence.

As quickly as we could we started moving the motorcycles, cars, and trucks into whichever gate was closest. Theo, Tris, and I ran out and started bringing in motorcycles though I had to get the boys to take the full sized bikes while I got the crotch rockets and dirt bikes. I just couldn't move the full-sized bikes where they lay on the ground. Even some of the smaller bikes I couldn't move if they had flat tires or where mangled. James was covering us when he spotted the first shambler.

Craporama. He radioed to the Wall and Scott and Bob got to try out some of the projectile weapons they've built. Dang those things are scary. Bob had tipped some of the spears with metal so they looked like a short pike. Gave me the shivers when I saw one pin a zombie to the ground; it kept moving 'cause they had caught it through the mouth rather than through the brain.

Oh, but zombies wasn't the worst of it. We had pushed the third to last vehicle through the gate when there was an awful yippy. Looked like the local hyena pack was back … and they were hungry.

We've fought zombies of every flavor but hyenas are just something you don't even play over. The gates were shut and locked tight. Using night goggles Dix counted over 30 hyenas in this clan; definitely a force to be reckoned with. I think it is time to start taking corpses back to the old body dump so they'll stay up that way.

Samuel grumbled to his father, "Hyenas don't act like this. Why are they hunting at night? They hunt during the day to watch for vultures."

Good question. I guess they are just plain hungry and they'll hunt until they get filled up. Or maybe the zombie chariots had attracted their attention earlier and they couldn't resist.

They fought over the corpses for hours. Some of the dead ZKKers never had a chance to reanimate … heck, some of them didn't get a chance to die the first time around. If they didn't move fast enough they were gobbled up. Every new zombie that wandered into the area was even more efficiently sanitized than anything we could have arranged.

That was down time. Some grabbed a catnap, Ski and the girls were busy patching up Dora who point black refused anything stronger than a Tylenol for the pain, and Iggy managed to get Dora's boys to let him give them a thorough going over and patch job before they fell into an exhausted sleep. Theo was gonna refuse to sleep but James said you slept when you could and it wasn't long before I saw them both laid out like sides of beef on the floor of the carport.

Tris, still recovering from his leg infection, had crashed and burned early with his head in Maddie's lap and Tyce and Cinda beside them. Oh brother. Let's hope this doesn't turn into another Brandon/Josephine melodrama.

Amazingly Patricia slept through most of everything. Jack checked on her a couple of times and then went to sleep in a chair on their screened front porch.

I used the last of one of the big cans of coffee to make up some fresh so that whoever wanted some could get some. I also made up a pot of very strong tea. I'd have given a lot for a cold six pack of Jolt Cola but that wasn't happening so I made do with strong sweet iced tea.

Finally the hyenas must have gotten their fill and those on the Wall watched them move through the tall grass heading north.

Scott, James, and David went out and brought in the last two vehicles using the tow truck. James got out of the truck and had the dry heaves. Scott told me the smell out there was pretty bad where the hyenas had marked their turf and where they'd ripped open the bowels of so many of the corpses.

I've been sitting here on the lanai for most of an hour and a half writing all this out while plans are made for the rest of the cleanup. We have a mess … outside and inside the Wall. And Chad is supposed to be here at first light to examine Tom. Theo wants to leave at first light to get back home and check on the rest of his family. I heard some of the men saying they wanted to accompany Theo home in case he finds trouble and others wanted to scout out the remaining ZKK territory to see whatever they can see. But, we still need to be ready here in case a contingent from ZKK comes by looking for the comrades.

Could things possibly get any more complicated?! Oh Lord … I need to find a piece of wood to knock on now 'cause as sure as I asked the question I'll have jinxed us.

Of course they can. Here I was about to put my journal away for what remained of the night and we get another blow. While all the ruckus was going on Claire was manning the radio and took a report I just found out about. Angus and Jim are hurt. I'll let the radio report speak for itself (with my commentary added to blow off some steam) and then I'm going to go cuddle with Scott. I definitely need a good cuddle about now.

 ** _This is John Tomes to Sanctuary. Jim asked me to contact you because they were scheduled to make radio contact today. Last night we were forced to rush over to the building the government troopers where using after a local that wandered through during the storm reported "things" over there. The troopers where animated dead and attacked as soon as the guys got there and it was really close. I thought we were all done for. Jim's here but because of a blow he took to the throat it's really painful to talk._**

Claire was suspicious that this John Tomes was really who he said he was so she asked for proof. John's response:

 _ **Jim said he heard Angus say that when he gets back he intends to teach Kitty how to play hide and seek.**_

Yeah, that would be Angus all right. Now, allow me to get something off my chest. WHY THE HECK DID THEY DO THIS WITH NO BACK UP?! Ooooooo, just wait until I get my hands on those two. I hate it when they act all six-feet-tall-and-bulletproof. Luckily for my sanity Claire assured me that the guys are OK, just pretty badly banged up.

 _ **Repeating, I'm reporting for Jim and Angus.**_ _ **Jim took a blow to the throat and it pains him to talk or swallow.**_ _ **His right eye is swollen shut and he has two broken fingers on his right hand. He also has some really ugly bruising on his arms from some of the dead trying to bite through his jacket and he pulled something in his back. Angus is in worse shape. He dislocated his left hip (popped it back in) and something happened to his left knee; pretty sure it isn't broken but it's swollen and really painful to bend. He has three huge bumps on his head one that split. He took a blow to the chest that we think cracked or broke several ribs and he's sprained his right elbow and wrist. The rest are minor cuts and scrapes with one loose tooth. The girl we rescued went into labor an hour after it was over and now there's a little girl here as well.**_ _ **Woman and baby seem fine, we however are traumatized by the experience.**_ _ **Jim and I will keep an eye on Angus's breathing the next couple of days as neither of us knows anything about chest injuries. Jim wants to know if someone will stay with the radio 24-7 for a day or two in case he needs to talk to Ski.**_

Claire gave them an affirmative because she knew that's what we would do but it took her a while to attract Dix's attention and relay what had happened and a little longer after that for the information to make the rounds. What the heck we are going to tell the kids I don't know. Uncle Angus and Uncle Jim walk on water in their opinions and they are going to have a hard time understanding that the two men actually got hurt.

Now we've got another question on our hands to answer, Do we send a rescue team for Angus and Jim or do we give them time to heal at their current location and then make that determination?


	204. Day 251 (part 1)

Author's Note: The journal entry for "Day 251" is multi-part due to the fact that there is a lot of action going on in multiple locations covering several major characters and many minor characters. You'll see the scene shift from location to location and I've tried to organize it using a line break. With luck everything will make sense as it follows a corresponding timeline. I plan on getting all of Day 251 posted today but it is quite long and may take until later in the day for me to do so. Now back to our story ...

* * *

 _ **Day 251 (Sunday) – April 8 – A Not-Restful Day (part 1)**_

Ugh. I never really went to bed last night and this day has been as full as yesterday. So yeah, I'm tired. I'm afraid this is all going to sound fractured but everything has been all over the place. Frankly I'm feeling fractured. Too many things. Too many emotions. Where to begin? Where to end? How to bleed it all off and still make sense in this journal so that later when I re-read it I can make some use of it to help me deal with the inevitable chaos the memories will bring. If I don't start I'll never finish ...

About 4 am Dix radioed OSAG and Aldea to let them know as they come in to ignore the mess as best they can and to be on the lookout for predators of both the human and non-human varieties.

Breakfast wasn't fancy; just grits, fried spam, and biscuits. None of us were up to doing much more than that. I hadn't done much more than roll the biscuit dough out when Brandon comes walking in with Theo.

"Sissy, tell Theo how upset everyone would be if he just took off on his own."

Oh, I did more than that. I asked him how upset Dora would be right when she needs to keep calm so she can recuperate. That did it, kept him from leaving unannounced, but he was about as fun to be around as a caged lion.

The men started coming in for their first cup of the morning and Dix, looking a little ragged around the edges, sat down with Theo and explained what the plan was and also mentioned that he had already cleared his part in it with Dora.

Dora was just as anxious to get home as Theo and the boys were. She refused to be put off another day or two but did understand that they weren't in any condition to travel by themselves. Scott, David, and Iggy were going to act as escort to get them home as they knew the area where Dora was living better than anyone else. Except for me.

When I casually mentioned that at the council during the night I got a couple of wide eyed blinks. What?! They think I did nothing but set at home for the thirteen plus years we owned our business? I showed units, collected rent, helped with repairs and problem tenants too and the area that Dora lived in was very near where we had managed a few houses. But I wasn't going on any of the runs and it wound up being for the best.

Knowing that all the medical staff would need their strength today (and boy did they), I took over breakfast rather than have them come to the Dining Hall in shifts. Tom was groggy and couldn't eat anyway in case he needed to be operated on but I set some water near the bed where he was dozing. I made sure Waleski ate and then gave a plate to the girls. After the late night, Ty was still sleeping so Rilla stayed at home and was getting a little more sleep as well. The plan was for her to sleep in and then give Rose and/or Melody a break later in the day so that they could take a nap.

Then I took Dora her breakfast. Sore and trying to get out of bed by herself (and not having much success), I sat her tray on the bedside table and then helped her to get up and get dressed. Ski had already pronounced her fit enough to travel, even if it was against his preference. First thing she asked was were the boys being fed and were they behaving. After giving her a yes to both questions she relaxed and began to eat as well.

Apropos of nothing she asked, "Did the boys tell you that Jorey was mine?"

It only took me a second to realize she meant that Jorey was her biological child. Quickly followed by Jorey's history. Quickly followed by the fact that I obviously didn't know much about Dora at all.

"Yeah. I haven't even been able to bring myself to grieve for my own boy yet. It's my fault he is like … he was like he was. I did that to him." After a bit of silence she continued, "I got cleaned up three years ago. My little girl died 'cause her daddy shook her one night when I was off dancing to pay our rent. They took Jorey away then. At first it was a relief, he was such a problem child and I was too high most of the time to deal with it. Then they made me attend that stupid rehab class while I was in jail for neglect. My God. It nearly killed me. I started feeling all the things I'd been puttin' off feeling so I could score my next hit without any guilt. I know how that sounds. I know who I was then; what I was. You don't need to feel sorry for me."

"I wasn't," I told her dryly. "I saw too many of our tenants living like that."

It took her a moment to respond. "Damn girl, you're honest. I always have liked that about you," she said after a tired chuckle. "But I cleaned up. And I worked my butt off to get Jorey back even though I didn't really know what that meant. But after being clean for over two years I started backsliding. I had to keep a roof over our head so I could keep Jorey. I finally had to go back to dancing. I got lonely looking at all the other girls with their men. I started drinking again and it wouldn't have been long before I was doing other things again. Then the zombies showed up and rescued me."

That last has to be one of the oddest things I've heard to date. Everyone looks at the zombies like the worst thing that could have happened and Dora thinks of them as a blessing.

"The booze and drugs disappeared real quick. I watched a lot of my friends and former friends die of withdrawals and then come back as a freak. I thought, there but for the Grace of God, and decided I was going to do more with my life; make it mean something. Adults … most of 'em … are idiots and worse. You got mostly good ones here but out there … And they're starting to congregate together again. Look at those ZKK dudes. You know what I mean?"

Yeah, unfortunately I did. We talked a bit more and then Scott came by and said that he had Theo and the boys loaded up and that Chad was on the way in with his sister, the nurse. We got Dora up and out the door of the Clinic and just managed to keep the boys from mobbing her as she was put in the back seat of the F350 with the younger two boys. Theo was in the front seat with Scott and David. David road in the truck bed where they had loaded and tied down Dora's rickshaw.

They were just on the other side of the Front Gate and heading south on US41 when a detail from Aldea showed up at the Rear Gate with a van of OSAG folks right behind them. Aldea's detail included Glenn and Matlock as well as Brian, Austin, and Chris. We welcomed the OSAG folks in with Waleski already talking business with Chad and his sister as they headed over to the Clinic. I knew before he even turned around that Steve was here though I nearly didn't recognize him with the beard. Dave (the one with the tattoos), Tyler, and Rusty had ridden over as a security detail. Chad's their friend but at the same time, he's their head medic and you don't just let someone essential like that out and about without protection.

Dix took them over to the radio shack where they had some big meeting while Chad examined Tom. It wasn't too long before Chad and Ski stepped outside. I decided to check and see if the men wanted something to drink. And no, it wasn't because I was insatiably curious despite the look Ski gave me. Neither man wanted anything but asked if I would relay to the men at the radio shack that Tom definitely needed to have the eye removed and that they would be starting on it as soon as the girls finished preparing the surgery and Chad's sister had completed administering anesthesia to Tom.

It was what we expected but it was still sad. I jogged over to the Radio Shack and knocked, waiting for them to answer. Bekah, who had been manning the radio, peeked out the window and said that Dix didn't want to be disturbed. I told her to give me a note pad and after writing the message that Chad had wanted sent I told her to quietly place it at Dix's elbow and then to get out from underfoot.

I wasn't more than a dozen feet away from the building, heading for my next chore, when Dix called, "Sissy!?"

With neither Scott nor David there they needed a local to give a little more info on the areas that Steve has heard are controlled by ZKK. They have expanded into four primary locations which I think means that their group is huge or their "gang" is just a rough umbrella for affiliated smaller groups. There was the Citrus Park Mall area, Cheval, Grant Park which is way out near MLK Jr. Blvd and the fairgrounds, and then up in New Tampa which is in the ritzy subdivisions on the north end of Bruce B. Downs Bvld. There had been a contingent out in Clair-mel but no news on them for weeks now and there was some sounds of them being over in the Westshore Mall area but no confirmation.

I did the best I could, in Scott's absence, to give them a clearer picture of the businesses and buildings in those areas as well as what might have attracted them in the first place. The Citrus Park Mall was easy; kids and malls and all the stuff that they could loot in there. They didn't start over there however because I mentioned the time that Scott and I had gone over and gathered out of some of the stores right across from the mall and we didn't see sign of anyone.

The other three areas – Cheval, New Tampa, and possibly Westshore – was kinda self-evident if we could assume that the ZKKers really were started by the seeds of a real gang. Those three areas were where people with expensive tastes and the luxury to indulge them lived. They'd probably think as survivors and conquerors it was their right to take over those areas. Grant Park on the other hand I couldn't say for sure. It was home to some gang problems pre-NRS though it would get cleaned up off and on. We managed a duplex in Grant Park and no sooner would the cops get one gang cleaned out another would move in to take its place. Maybe Grant Park was the seed that started the gang to begin with. The problem with that theory however is that when we made that big gathering run to the fairgrounds we didn't see any sign of organized gangs. Charlene, after being asked, said the only gangs they saw were the raiders from further east, the ones that killed kids, anyone younger than 20 or so on sight.

They thanked me politely enough but I could tell I was dismissed as loud as if they had actually said it.

The procedure that Chad did on Tom was called enucleation. It's where the entire eyeball is removed. If all goes well then Tom can go home in a week's time. But he'll have to put topical antibiotics on the eye for another three weeks after that. The surgery took an hour and a half (twice as long as it should have) because Chad needed to clean out as much infection as possible. Rose told me, still slightly green from assisting with her first surgery, that even after the eyeball was removed they still had brick dust that had to be cleaned out.

During surgery Scott radioed that they needed back up. There was a situation at Dora's place.


	205. Day 251 (part 2)

_**Day 251 (Sunday) – April 8 – A Not-Restful Day (part 2)**_

Here's what happened but of course I didn't get all the details until late today. The trip over to Dora's place was relatively uneventful. Taking main roads where possible, they headed over to the Rowlette Park area. As her family grew Dora had taken over a multifamily complex that had in recent years been converted to an assisted living facility. It had 8 bedrooms, six of them dormitory style and two private bedrooms, a commercial kitchen and cafeteria style dining tables, lots of expensive security features, a high fenced backyard, and a nurses station set up behind the welcome desk and congregate living room. The fact that it was across from Rowlette Park suited her purpose as well. Rowlette Park is also home to the only working dam in Tampa that I'm aware of. It is … was … own by Tampa Electric Company for over 100 years. So she has that in front of her. To her rear she can follow Waters Avenue out to Nebraska Avenue and get water from Sulfur Springs. The Springs feed into the Hillsborough River and used to be a big tourist attraction up until the 1950s and 60s. Then the spring went into disrepair until it was bought by the city in the 1990s and refurbished before being re-opened as a public pool location.

Scott drove south on US41 and continued to follow it where it turned into Nebraska Avenue. Upon approaching the Springs they knew something wasn't quite right. The fence surrounding the property that locals had erected had been knocked down since the preceding morning. There were a few mangled and bloating bodies lying around but it was hard to tell what had killed them. The faces were obliterated by gunshot blasts but no other damage was evident … and they looked fresh dead, not like they had been sanitized corpses of any duration.

David banged on the cab roof and Scott slowed down. That's when they heard what David had been hearing, the constant buzz of small motors. Scott looked at Iggy who had his weapon out and ready. Slowly Scott turned east on Waters Avenue; heading towards the sound. They found a convenient place to pull off the road and hide the truck.

The two younger boys remained with Dora in the truck. Scott gave her a gun, one of our throwaways, and then he turned to Theo. "Son, you shoot me in the butt and we are going to have words," he said as he handed Theo a .38 that was kept in the glove compartment. Theo grinned and then showed he knew exactly how to handle what he'd been given. "Smart aleck," Scott said after the demonstration. "Just keep in mind what I said and we'll be fine."

Scott and Iggy took turns on point as they made their way slowly towards their goal. Scott would move forward, check the area, then wave Iggy ahead. Iggy would do the same, then Theo would come forward as the two adult men covered his advance. David brought up the rear making sure that no one was following them.

It didn't take them that long to reach a point where they could tell what was going on. David, upon viewing the situation said, "These boys seem to have only one play in their handbook."

"If the girls did what they were supposed to, and it looks like they did, those guys aren't going to be able to break in. Those doors are too heavy. Rich folks used to send Alzheimer's patients to live in the place. The doors can only be opened from the inside and Momma had us fix the place up even better with cross bars and grilling on the windows and stuff like that," Theo whispered.

"What about fire?" Iggy asked.

"Nah, Momma said the place was built special and we ripped off all the stuff on the outside that was still burnable after we moved in; and replaced it with metal if we had to. You can't really see it good but we built the back wall even higher and put all sorts of sharp things at the top. Nobody's going over that wall unless they want to get hurt bad. And there ain't no door back there either. We got a crawl space but that's secret."

There were too many of the ZKKers. Making sure that the kids inside the house were in no immediate damage from the idiots trying to intimidate them by driving around and around their home, they retreated to the truck and made the call.

Back here in Sanctuary the reaction was immediate. Matlock took Brian and Austin with him and headed back to Aldea to get ready for the afternoon's activities. Brian and Austin both liked to play with homemade explosives and that was perfect for Aldea's part in the plan to winnow down the ZKK.

Glenn and Chris would drive one of the ZKK vehicles that was least damaged. Its tanks were topped off by siphoning out the fuel from some of the motorcycles. We still don't know where they are getting their fuel from, they seem to have plenty, but we sure did make a dent in their supplies.

OSAG was trying to decide how to split their forces when Jack goes running passed heading straight for the clinic.

Patricia was in labor and her water had broken. There wasn't any stopping the baby this time.

Jack was supposed to make one of Sanctuary's team but it was obvious he wasn't fit for duty now. Bob was already going. McElroy was staying to take charge of Sanctuary's defenses while Dix was out. Clay Jr. was going while J. Paul was staying behind to help his dad and grandfather pull together some stuff for Sanctuary's assault against the ZKK territory.

As soon as Dix opened his mouth I knew what was coming. "Tris, your leg well enough to climb the stairs to the guard station?"

"Yes sir!"

"Can you fire a gun at something besides your leg?"

"No sir. I mean yes sir! My dad was a gun nut … well, that's what the neighbors called him. My step mom made him get rid of them when she got pregnant but I do know how to shoot. I just didn't know how to use the one that the men that broke into our house had."

"McElroy!"

"Sir!"

"Give Tris here something to shoot with and make sure he knows how to use it."

"Yes sir!"

Then he briefly caught my eyes in apology before say, "James! Get geared up, you have five minutes!"

That was it. No "Bye Mom" or anything. He slung his gear bag, ammo bag, and the sniper's rife across his shoulders and climbed into the back of the hummer.

I could have said a lot, but there wasn't anything that I could have said that would have changed things. All I did was walk over to the back of the hummer and looked in and catching James' gaze I told him, "This isn't Sparta. Just come back." History nut that he is, he knew what I meant and why I said it the way I did.

I turned away and refused to watch James leave. Instead I headed towards Patricia and Jack's place. Before I could get there I saw Jack, Ski, J. Paul, and Brandon carrying Patricia out of the house in one of those litters like the Coast Guard use when they are taking injured people off of boats. They made a beeline to the Clinic.

I met up with them and asked, "Anything I can do?"

Waleski, looking rather harassed, said "Yeah, radio Aldea and see if Terra and Nick can be ferried over here."

I headed over to the radio shack but as I put my foot on the bottom step the door is jerked open. Bekah's eyes were wide, both from being startled and from excitement. "Momma! That John guy says that Uncle Angus and Uncle Jim need you to call them quick. There's a baby eating its mother and it's stuck!"

What was I supposed to think? I had visions of a demon zombie baby doing what it is that demon zombie babies were likely to do. I ran over to the radio and then realized I hadn't a clue how to operate it. Bekah then set the call up.

"Angus! Jim! Come in. This is Sissy!"

"Moooommmmm, that's not how you say it."

I gave Bekah a look that would have fried potatoes and she lost the little Miss Know-it-all attitude. As luck would have it the guys must have been sitting right on top of the radio.

 _"Sissy! Jim here. [garbled sounds]. Uh, we got us a situation here."_

"So Bekah said. Were you able to sanitize the baby?"

 _"Uh. Hmmmm. Hold on. Here's Angus."_

What the heck?!

 _"Hey Sissy. Got us a female type situation."_

"Again, have that info already. Repeat, were you able to sanitize the baby?"

 _"Uh, it ain't quite that kinda situation."_

"Please clarify. A baby wasn't eating its mother?"

 _"Weeeellllll. Yeah, but not the way you mean. I think Bekah misheard."_

"Please clarify again. A baby wasn't stuck?"

 _"Weeeellllll. Yeah, but not the way she took it to mean."_

"Dang it Angus, just spit it out already. What's the emergency?!"

 _"Weelllllll. See, this girl just had this baby see and she's got to feed the baby, only it got stuck on her … well, on her tit. We finally got it off but the girl is shook up and doesn't want to nurse the baby any more. Aw hell. You've done the baby thing enough times to have your own basketball team. You explain it to her."_

Oh … my … gracious! I made a quick call to Aldea informing them that Terra and Nick were needed while Angus was trying to get the girl to come to the radio. When I finished that I called Angus and found the girl finally ready to talk.

Seems that the baby has a strong suckle. Real strong. The girl is only 19 and hasn't a clue what to do. Where is La Leche League when you need them? I told her to not let the baby suckle so long on either breast, how to hold the baby like a football so she would get so sore, and the trick of how to disengage a baby that didn't want to give the nipple up. I told her how important it was to keep her breasts clean and dry to avoid cracking and how to teach the baby that it is a bad idea to chew or bite while they were nursing. I nearly fell out of my chair when the poor girl cried, _"My God! They chew on 'em too?!"_

Poor kid, family missing and no women to help with the birth or what comes after; not even a book to look at. All she had was Angus and Jim. I think at that point I would have put a cork in it and waited.

I had just finished my part when a woman broke in over the top of our transmission and gave her some other good baby advice. The woman was a midwife and wanted to make sure that the young woman had cleaned herself up good after the birth and a few other things. I thanked the new woman, broke off communication with a promise that we'd continue to have someone monitoring the radio 24/7 in case we were needed, and then headed outside.

Terra and Nick had just arrived.

It was only mid-morning and I was already ready for the day to be over with. Little did I know that more – much more – was going to continue happening.


	206. Day 251 (part 3)

_**Day 251 (Sunday) – April 8 – A Not-Restful Day (part 3)**_

I was so flummoxed by the "emergency" that by the time I got over to Terra it was either tell someone else about it or keel over. But before I could I started laughing. Poor Angus and poor Jim … that must have been some situation; horrifying for them but hilarious to look back on. I finally stopped short of hysterics and was able to tell Terra. We got a laugh until we saw Jack pelting over to us.

You know, I've heard the word used in context with babies and adults but rarely do adults truly babble. Talk a lot, too fast, etc. … but a true adult babble is rare. It's also disturbing in some indefinable way. Jack was babbling. I caught the words "Patricia," "baby," and "help" but that's about it. Nick, with a baby pack on his front that was filled with their son, took charge of Jack and tried to get him to calm down as the three of them walked to the Clinic. I was again left standing around trying to figure out what to do next.

It was likely about the time that Nick and Terra arrived that the contingents from OSAG, Aldea, and Sanctuary arrived to back up our people so that Dora's place could be retaken.

Scott and Iggy had had to do a little zombie sanitation because the noise of the motorcycles was attracting some shamblers into the area. In order to conserve ammo, Scott played Thor to Iggy's Paul Bunyan. Scott used a sledge hammer and Iggy used a long-handled ax.

While waiting for back up David and Theo had looked around and found a couple of clusters of ZKKers hanging out near a U-Haul truck that had been painted with the gang's insignia. When David asked Theo if he knew what they carried in the truck he just shrugged his shoulders, "Whatever they want man. Little of this, little of that. They charge high prices but folks that are isolated, or can be intimidated, buy something just to get 'em to leave."

Once David and Theo got back to Scott and Iggy and reported in detail what they had seen, a real plan was put together. Our people were going to station themselves around the ZKKers' whole merry-go-round. Rather than risking shooting across at one another they took the high ground climbing into trees or onto roofs. They'd be shooting down rather than straight across and this would lessen the risk of friendly fire injuries.

James, after doing the male shoulder-bump greeting thing with his dad (I have no idea when this male ritual took the place of a decent hug or handshake), was sent up to the tallest structure within the perimeter. It was an old stucco, Spanish Mission style house built about 1900 that had two real stories and then a tower attached to the exterior of the home that had a faux third story. From that height and cover Dix wanted him to specifically snipe for any gangbangers who were wearing insignia that seemed fancier or more ornate than the others or who appeared to be giving orders that the group was following. It was a lot to ask of a 16 year old and I flipped when I found out later. Scott has talked to James and he's dealing with what he had to do, but we'll keep an eye on him just the same.

The first order of business was to take out the radio operator at the gang's storage vehicle. Iggy and Bob took care of that group cleanly and quietly, then separated and took their roof top positions. A couple of the guys from OSAG took out the other cluster of ZKKers on foot, then they too hit the high positions. Glenn was going to play crazy supply truck driver. As soon as the firing started he was going to get the van out of the line of fire. This accomplished two things. It confused any bikers who went to look for back up from the people that had been around the vehicle and it got the contents of the vehicle out of harm's way. We didn't know what was in the van at the time, but these days you don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

The ZKKers never knew what hit them. I'm pretty sure our triune is now complete. We are separate yet bound to each other in a way we weren't before our groups had participated in this type of organized offensive task force. Sure, there are improvements that can be made, but our groups will probably work similarly to the old Forts of the pioneer era. Small forts would operate independently, seeking their own success, but when danger threatened their sister forts/settlements, they came out to band together and the enemy became a common one.

By lunchtime most of the cyclists were dead or in the process of being sanitized. After the area was secured, Dora was fetched and upon seeing her the girls unlocked the doors and poured out; the younger girls crying, the older ones looking on the verge of it. Jorey's loss was accepted stoically.

Glenn had opened the back of the van. It was full of a wide variety of stuff; some of it junk, some of it not. When our men offered to split the contents of the van four ways, cutting Dora's group in, she said, "No. Consider it payment in full. The less I owe the better."

Dora is just like that, she's got something against owing anyone anything … to the point of pure cusedness sometimes. But there was something that Scott did. He told Theo to keep the .38 and gave him a box of ammo to go with it. It's not much but so long as Dora doesn't try and get rid of it, it will add to their safety when they are out on the road trading.

With no reports, reporters, or authorities to question our action, the men were able to make a quick exit from the scene. The three groups split off at appropriate locations along the path and our people arrived back in Sanctuary by 1 o'clock. Just in time to grab a bite to eat and get ready for the next phase in this day's offensive operations.


	207. Day 251 (part 4)

_**Day 251 (Sunday) – April 8 – A Not-Restful Day (part 4)**_

With no other emergency in the offing I decided to get lunch going a little early. I had all the kids come with me to the kitchen and it wasn't long before we had arranged one of the "cold tables" that we swiped from a buffet restaurant set up with another of our "A-grazing Buffet" as folks had started calling meals of fresh fruits and veggies. I also cooked up a bunch of TVP taco meat and fried up a bunch of corn tortillas so that anyone inclined could make tostadas.

I heard from Melody who came over when they began rotating break-time for the clinic caregivers that Patricia was in a bit of a panic and that her blood pressure kept going up and down. Her contractions weren't regular yet – running anywhere between 6 and 20 minutes apart – but they felt worse without the cushion of the amniotic fluid. The baby is also in a partial breech position.

Patricia had been doing an exercise called postural management for weeks now. Samuel had been a breech baby and she was determined not to have another. The baby appeared to be turning on its own but if her labor grew more intense with the baby still in the breech position they would try what is called external cephalic version … in other words they would turn the baby manually.

Also heard that Tom was still in recovery but was doing as well as could be expected under the circumstances. They didn't expect any complications at this point but they were prepared for them just in case.

In due course the Sanctuary men returned and reported all that had happened while they stuffed their faces with a quick meal. The next phase in the strategic offense was more complicated than what they'd done this morning. Using the intel gathered by OSAG, the Triune was going to use their combined forces to hit all four known ZKK locations simultaneously. It would mean leaving us very short handed but in order to pull this off with adequate force, it would have to be.

OSAG was taking the New Tampa compound. A combination of Aldea and Sanctuary folks would take the Cheval and Citrus Park compounds. And Scott leading another contingent from Sanctuary would take the Grant Park compound. The Grant Park area being the furthest away meant that Scott and his crew had to head out first so that they could set up and be ready at the same time of the other three locations.

With Scott went David, J. Paul, Clay Jr., Brandon, Iggy and Cease.

Glenn was leading the group against the Citrus Park compound. In his group was Austin and Brian as the demolition experts. Also along for the ride were Curtis, Ronan, and Bob.

Dix was leading the group against the Cheval compound. In his group went James, Kevin Morris, Dante', Lee and Chris. This would be Dante's first real return to active duty since his drunken blow up. He was put with Dix to avoid any potential dust ups with Aldea. Lee and Chris, being two that had voted for punishment rather than immediate exile, were also assigned to Dix so that in addition to their duties during the battle they could observe Dante's behavior and report it back to Matlock. The better Dante' performed under pressure the better his chances were of returning to what passed for normal life within our community.

Matlock's job was to run patrols between the Triune compounds to prevent any potential sneak attack. He was primarily covering the north and west quadrants of the area we've chosen to call The Triune Territory. Unfortunately for my peace of mind, his patrol was made up of kids. Clark Morris (15), Samuel (14), and Eric Timmons (14) were all young but they had already proven their worth in other battle situations and all participated regularly in area patrols and knew what belonged and what was out of place in their territories. I questioned the wisdom of Samuel leaving with his mother in pre-term labor but Dix said that he'd be better out of Sanctuary in case something happened. It would also give him real work to focus on and not just busy work that gave him time to think anyway.

The other Dave over at OSAG was running a separate patrol group that covered the eastern and southern quadrants of TTT. Despite the mutual aide we give each other I've yet to meet everyone over at OSAG. I know a lot of their kids – except Shorty's two older daughters – are quite young. I'm not sure if they have any male teens so I must assume that their patrol was made up of the adults males, or some of the adult women, that didn't join Steve in the assault of the ZKK compound in New Tampa.

Since OSAG also has the better radio set up with eleventy-dozen redundancies, Scott – the other one that is their Communication Specialist – was the primary contact for the campaign. He would in turn disseminate information as appropriate to each compound and also track the patrol positions and any movements by our targets.

Scott and Dix's teams headed out. Team G – those men headed to Grant Part – immediately headed to their destination. Team C – Dix's team – headed to rendezvous with Glenn (Team M) and Matlock so that they could shift personnel around before headed to their own destinations. Steve's group – Team T – would contact after they were close to their chosen position. Matlock's patrol group was called the River Rats. OSAG's patrol group for this event was called the Metal Heads.

If you weren't on an assault team or on area patrol your duty was to prepare for possible retaliation. It didn't matter – man, woman, or child – you were assigned some type of task. Littles filled water canteens and made up baggies of snacks. We all cleaned and loaded weapons as well as loaded extra magazines and got our more archaic defensive tools prepared and loaded. Then it became a game of hurry up and wait for those of us left behind.

This is where events start getting hard for me to record in a straight timeline of events. We had six separate groups working this offensive maneuver in addition to the three compounds.

I suppose I'll start with Scott's group. What would have taken them forty minutes to drive in moderate traffic pre-NRS took them nearly an hour and a half. For one thing, after crossing over Hillsborough Avenue they needed to stay to the east of 56th Street so that they could avoid having to cross in the open. For another, the compound's location wound up being in Grant Park just not in the residential area. Little remained of the residential area; what looked like out of control house fires had taken out entire blocks. Instead, the gang was holed up in the Pepin Bottling and Distribution facility.

Years ago Scott's dad had worked for Mr. Pepin and he often went with his dad on the Saturday delivery route. He was familiar with the old distributing plant when they were further north on 56th Street but not with the new plant. However, there are only so many ways that such a place can be put together so he was able to share the likeliest way things were on the inside of the structure.

The inside wasn't really where they were aiming to physically capture however; not given the number of ZKKers that were roaming around. As soon as Scott saw the type of security the ZKKers had built he wished that he had had Brian and Austin with him. When he mentioned what he wanted to do J. Paul and Clay Jr. looked at each other and grinned and said, "Guess what we know how to do?"

So they started the set up so they'd be ready at 5 o'clock which was when the other teams were supposed to be in place and ready.

It wasn't rocket science, but it wasn't easy either. There were lots of heavily armed young people of both sexes inside the compound. But you could tell they'd grown careless. And they were only inside their compound. David and Brandon had reconnoitered the entire area and seen no signs of outside patrols. You could tell they felt safe … perhaps invincible … inside the compound. They hadn't even bothered to station guards … or the guards hadn't bothered to stay on duty. Worse, they had allowed plenty of cover to grow up or build up around the compound fencing.

To highlight exactly how nonchalant these ZKKers were the drinking and carrying on was widespread. Lots of talking and noise; a big no-no unless you wanted to attract trouble these days. There was a car stereo playing but every time someone turned up the base someone else would turn it back down.

While the Morris cousins mixed their brew, a fight broke out over the music and the winner turned the music up really loud. Everyone started dancing and laughing and generally making bigger asses of themselves than before. Out of the warehouse came a couple of older 20-somethings, bald and heavily inked up. The two men each grabbed one of the fighters and then Scott said they beat the crap out of them before they headed back inside. The radio stayed down after that and it was some time before the subdued atmosphere lightened and the kids went back to horsing around.

"The kids are cannon fodder. Those guys are higher up the chain, either lieutenants or enforcers," Iggy said. "Before we're finished we need to take them out; start cutting the head off the snake."

The brew that the Morris cousins were creating is something that Austin had come up with. Kiddies, don't try this at home or you could be in some major trouble. You take Styrofoam (a lot of it in the debris around the outside where the trash from looted electronics had been dumped) and then pour gasoline over it. The gasoline melts the Styrofoam and you stir it together turning it into a gelatinous mess. The resulting gunk is basically homemade napalm and difficult as heck to put out.

Scott's plan was to turn the ZKKer's own defenses against them. I know you need to use the materials at hand but it is still hard to believe that anyone would resort to tires when there is an incredible amount of other, nonflammable material out there to build walls with, especially given the kind of fires that the area has already experienced.

Columns of tires encircled the whole distribution facility. The center of each column was filled with sand and rocks and other debris. A lot of the columns already had a tendency to lean so it wouldn't take much to topple entire sections. Being very careful, each man was given a section of tire fencing to smear the homemade napalm on, then they were to step back out of sight. If Scott had estimated correctly, by the time they were finished smearing the snotty stuff on the tires, they would only have a few minutes to wait until 5 o'clock arrived.

Scott said he started seeing zombie signs and hurriedly smeared the last couple of columns and then headed back to the tree he had marked to hide in. Sure enough, the earlier ruckus with the radio must have attracted some zombies. Then he heard the now recognizable sound of motorcycles coming to their gate.

A small limo was flanked by several rows of expensive motorcycles. The gate was immediately opened and the bikes and limo drove in and the gate was closed and bolted behind the vehicles. Guards got out of the limo ahead of a very well-dressed man in his late 30s or possibly even 40s; he had some age on him and where the clothing didn't cover his skin, his ink was extensive.

The cannon fodder as Scott thought of the younger gang members now that Iggy had christened them so were standing around gazing at the bejeweled and nattily dressed man like he was held in great awe and even more fear.

The man, two expensive looking crack whores all but clinging to him, disappeared into the warehouse. Scott looking at his watch saw it was five o'clock.

* * *

Glenn and his crew parked their vehicles about half a mile from the remains of the Citrus Park Mall. Something had happened to the mall but no one was sure what; looked like a combination of looting, a fire, and a few small explosions. The ZKKers weren't in the mall, or at least they weren't living there. This group had taken over the Sheriff's substation that was next to the mall facing Gunn Hwy and unlike the group that Scott had found, though this group was smaller, they had more discipline.

A twelve foot aluminum fence had been erected around the substation. The number of cooked zombies stuck to this fence was evidence that it was electrified, or at least that it could be electrified. Since an annoying hum at the low end of the hearing range could be heard, it didn't take a genius to figure out that the fence was currently operating in the "on" position. In addition to the electrical hum, a shed behind the substation had vent stacks coming out of it and a chugging noise and heavy electrical cables coming out of a small window on the side of the aluminum shed.

No fuel depot was visible but that doesn't mean that there wasn't a supply some place. Keeping a generator that made enough juice to power that much fence surface meant they had a big supply of gas some place.

They'd already been discussing what all kinds of toys that Brian and Austin had brought leaving Glenn reminiscing about his suicide jockey days over in the Middle East. Everyone knew what they had that could go boom. They also knew that with inadequate cover to approach the substation they were going to have to force the Citrus Park ZKKers to crack their own shell open.

Austin and Brian quickly took off and wired some boom booms at the weakest corner of the mall, formerly the entrance of a Burlington Coat Factory. These they hooked up to timers. Then they ran over to the townhouses directly to the north of the substation's position and hooked up more boom-booms, these they put on wires so that they could only be activated when the pair wanted them to blow.

Glenn, Curtis, and Ronan found positions to snipe from. Bob got closer and prepared to wait until someone turned off the juice to the fence. He had his own surprise for those inside.

At five o'clock exactly the bombs went off at the mall.

* * *

Dix and his crew got to their location even earlier than Scott and his crew had, despite being one of the last to leave Sanctuary. Cheval is just a hop, skip, and a jump from us. The group that had captured Dora and her boys at the Old Geraci place most likely belonged to that group. Cheval's main entrance was on the west side of Dale Mabry Hwy just north of the Van Dyke Rd/Dale Mabry Hwy intersection. This was likely the ZKKers' newest outpost of expansion. If they had been around any longer we would have run into them on our patrols; certainly the drug kitchen had been a new venture because David had just gotten fish out of ponds behind the old farmhouse to stock our own ponds with not long before that.

The outpost's newness could be both an advantage and a disadvantage. They were new enough to the area that they could have been on higher alert but at the same time their defenses weren't going to be as well developed.

The first problem they encountered was how to actually get into Cheval without alerting the ZKKers who were stationed at the main gate's entrance. Cheval was one of those very expensive, very exclusive gated golf communities. There was only one way in and out … unless you knew about the trade entrance that was hidden on the Lutz Lakefern Road side of the community. The housekeepers, plumbers, lawn maintenance companies, etc. were only allowed to enter through that gate. There was however, one other way in that David and James had happened upon while out exploring on one of their rare free days.

Next door to Cheval is a less exclusive, un-gated but still expensive residential area called Calusa Trace. Some silly and overpriced beautification projects were nothing more than a underhanded way for the folks in Calusa Trace to cut off the view of two of the pretty lakes in the community from the folks in Cheval. Both communities were old enough now that the oaks planted along the tall brick fence were beginning to overtake the pine trees that had been planted as a quick screen. James showed Dix how the trees were now just convenient bridges over Cheval's main security feature.

After they were in Cheval, the next problem was to find where the ZKKers were actually bedding down. They found them in the first place they looked; the golf and country club building and boy had it been a while since the cleaning service had visited. There were boxes and household goods in piles all over the place.

Something was going on here that was unusual. A line of ZKKers stretched at least two dozen people long. As a gang member would step up to a large table they would show the man behind the table some piece of art or household item. The man would look at the item and either indicate one of three piles or he would shake his head and hitch his thumb in the direction of what was obviously a debris pile. Those whose items was chosen for one of the "to keep" piles were elated to one degree or another. The people whose item was consigned to the junk pile were often angry or resentful; but they didn't respond overtly because stationed on either side of the decision maker were four very large, very intimidating looking guards. Only once did they see someone try and fight about the decision given. A guard stepped forward and point blank shot the disgruntled woman in the head, spraying blood and various other biological matter on many of those standing in line behind her. Everyone else got the message.

Dix knew they would need to take out those four guards and the ones at the main gate if they hoped to succeed in their goal. He also knew that they needed something big to impress on the gang that they had started a turf war with the wrong people.

As Dix was trying to formulate a plan, they ran into their third problem. Kevin came up and quietly informed everyone that there were some young kids in one of the houses that backed up to the golf course. They were in no immediate danger but during any battle they could be used as shields or get caught in the crossfire.

Dante' volunteered to get the kids. It would mean getting extremely close to the ZKKers' position and Dix was worried that he had volunteered as some sort of redemptive act, but there wasn't time for a psychological evaluation and Dix nodded leaving Dante' to begin creeping his way over to the house where the kids were being held.

Taking a deep breath, Dix turned to James. I'm sure James must have been worried that Dix was going to try and protect him for my sake by tying James to him or some such. Even I was surprised at what Dix asked James to do.

"You've got five targets; the four guards and the moneychanger. I do not want you any closer than 500 yards to your targets. I do not want to see you return to any hand to hand battle until those five targets have been neutralized. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir. Do you have a location in mind?"

"Look around boy. Find someplace. Let me know where you're going and then get there and get ready. We are running out of time."

Looking around Dix realized how potentially messy this could turn. They had a central compound, a secondary location with young children, back up support that could come from the heavily armed gangsters at the front gate, and they had a wide dispersion of lesser gang members going from house to house in search of lootable items.

Dix turned to look at Kevin, Lee, and Chris, none of whom had any military experience though all had proved themselves time and again in combat situations. But this was different. This was going to be house-to-house search and destroy with plenty of hand-to-hand thrown in. Hoping they didn't realize he had doubts about their performance he told each of the men what they were likely to run into. He told them not to be heroes. The greater distance you can put between yourself and your enemy while still inflicting damage, the less likely they'd suffer any wounds.

Kevin and Lee were a team. Dix and Chris were the other team. At exactly 5 o'clock Dix watched the first guard fall when a third eye appeared in his forehead.

* * *

From all accounts when Steve's group snuck into the New Tampa area to observe the ZKK compound there, the sight that met them was not some half-manned, undisciplined outpost but the real deal. Contained within a small but tightly packed area, this place … this palace … was well-armed, well-maintained, and most unfortunately well-managed. The house, a massive Mediterranean style mansion that couldn't have had less than 6000 square feet under roof, backed up to the Pebble Creek Golf Club. Someone with some smarts had built a wall around the house with interlocking concrete barriers like you find separating lanes during interstate road work. The gate on the compound looked like something out of King Kong. There weren't a lot of people around, but there didn't need to be.

This was going to be a problem. Knowing the goals was maximum damage to the enemy while minimizes damage to his people, Steve decided to concentrate on tearing large gaps in their defenses, leaving them weakened, and then sitting back and letting the zombies do the rest of the work.

There were dogs roaming the interior of the New Tampa compound so sneaking up was not an option. Simple sniping at the ZKK soldier wasn't going to be effective enough. A siege would take too long. That left projectiles to take out the wall and damage the house.

The compound had only one way in and it was also the only way out. Steve concentrated three of his shooters so that they could take out any escapees and/or disable any vehicles trying to exit. Next at five different locations around the compound's wall he had people prepare to throw explosives at the four corners of the wall and at the gate. This was going to require speed and accuracy because it would mean exposing themselves to the compound guards who carried automatic weapons. It was a good thing then that his group had opted to wear their body armor left over from the LEO training exercises several of them used to operate.

After the compound fence was cracked open, the grenade throwers would return to cover and then sight in and keep anyone from escaping from the resulting holes.

The object would be to keep those inside pinned in until the noise attracted enough zombies to further destabilize their defenses. Once the fence was cracked however, if there was an opportunity to damage the house without excessive personal risk, they were to take it. The more torn up their defenses, the fewer places they had to hide, the more likely the compound would collapse into chaos giving Steve's group even more opportunity to pick individual gang members off.

With synchronized watches, at the first touch of the second hand on five o'clock, five explosive canisters where thrown at the fence. A sixth canister followed a heartbeat later. Steve's son threw a Hail Mary pass that penetrated right through an upstairs window of the mansion itself.

* * *

At five o'clock on the dot, those charged with lighting up the homemade napalm now smeared on every column of tires broke open and lit a road flare from their vehicles' emergency road kits. Running, they touched the tip of the flare close enough to the flammable glop to ignite it. In only seconds smoke began to rise.

No one inside the compound noticed until the smoke began to billow over the top of the tire wall. By that time it was too late; the napalm had already caused the tires themselves to combust and the smoked had turned a choking, gagging and impenetrable black.

And then a metal pail went whizzing over the gate to land on the limo splattering it, several nearby motorcycles, and at least half a dozen gang members that had been milling about with more of the noxious homemade napalm. As soon as the pail landed a lit flare followed. The result was about what you would expect.

Those that had been splattered had only begun wiping at the gloppy mess on their skin and clothing in confusion when the flare landed and skidded across the hood of the limo and to the feet of two of the gang members lighting everything in its path. Those two immediately caught fire and they panicked and ran, first to the some of the other splatterees catching igniting them and then into the warehouse where they died and then started a panic of a different kind.

Just as the Important Dude ran out with a mini Uzi in his hands, looking for someone or something to shoot at, the first burning motorcycle exploded causing him and the guards flanking him to duck. He was shouting some instructions but Scott couldn't hear what he said over all of the crying and screaming.

He had become so fascinated by the what was unfolding in front of him that he was a few seconds late noticing Iggy coming up behind him. "Was that you that?" Scott asked.

"David threw the pail. I threw the flare," Iggy answered, exhibiting his own fascination at how quickly the ZKKers situation had deteriorated.

Iggy caught Scott grinning and thought uh-oh, here comes another one. Scott is has become known for the occasional very bad pun. "I guess that means that you have a flare for justice."

Iggy just shook his head. Some of those puns were just really, really bad.


	208. Day 251 (part 5)

_**Day 251 (Sunday) – April 8 – A Not-Restful Day (part 5)**_

A huge "WHUMP!" was heard and then a grinding crash as the corner of the mall imploded. A fog of dust poured out from the destruction zone, rolling over the substation as ZKKers ran out to see what the commotion was, causing them to cough and blink tearily. Everyone on Glenn's team was tempted to start shooting at that point but they knew they needed to get the fence turned off and disabled or they would wind up in a siege or caught between those in the substation and whatever back up eventually came to the gang members' aid.

Suddenly there was an explosion that was so strong it knocked anyone standing off of their feet hard. A fireball appeared over the mall and debris began to rain down causing everyone to hunt for heavy cover.

Glenn, his ears stilling ringing, wondered "What the hell did those boys put in that one?"

The ZKKers were trying to recover when a breathless and disheveled Brian showed up and blurted, "That one wasn't ours! I gotta go check … "

"Hell no you don't! That noise will draw every freak for miles … "

Glenn was abruptly cut off when a piece of mangled debris landed on the electric fence hard enough to take down an entire section disrupting the circuit.

Out of the corner of his eye, Glenn caught Bob run the short distance from where he had been hiding, passed the fallen fence section and to an open window and the substation where he lobbed a couple of somethings in before quickly retreating the same way he had come. A less than manly scream was following by flames as two Molotov cocktails began a fire inside the building, spreading unchecked because apparently no one had the presence of mind to use the fire extinguishers plainly visible on the wall.

Glenn grinned a shark's grin and sent Brian to tell Austin that their second diversion apparently wasn't going to be needed and to start picking targets at will but to watch out for the influx of zombies that would undoubtedly be coming their way. Then he turned to Ronan and Curtis and said, "Gentlemen, start your engines. The fun is about to begin."

* * *

The second guard quickly followed the first. The third guard had his gun half out of his holster when he was taken down. The fourth guard grabbed the little moneychanger man and was hauling him towards the safety of the club house but before they could reach their destination, and a after a brief inhale for re-sighting, the fourth guard went down leaving the moneychanger cowering in a ball on the ground. By that time a sea of bodies were running which way and James was unable to get a lock on his target though he could see him crawling towards the nearest door.

Dix and the rest of the men were picking off anyone that was armed but they still couldn't give James a clear shot. Suddenly there was a quick succession of pings and then BLAM! a hundred pound fuel tank that had been attached to a large BBQ grill exploded taking roughly 20% of that side of the club house with it. The fire ball also ignited a lot of interior furnishings and some of the people as well. James had become frustrated with his inability to hit his target and was trying to flush him into the open so he could rejoin Dix and the other men.

Dix grinned and thought, "That kid takes after his parents all right." Then he sighed and hoped that Matlock could keep Samuel safe. He's life wouldn't be worth living if anything happened to his son.

* * *

KAWHAP! The tactic of explosive breaching had begun. Five canisters of the high melting explosive called Cyclonite went off near simultaneously. The gate area completely disintegrated. Three corners on the wall crumbled allowing for a full breach. The fourth corner was badly damaged but was only partially breachable.

The explosive canister that was thrown into the second story of the mansion went off with such force that a good section of roof went, raining terracotta tiles down upon everyone and the floor gave way allowing the massive front doors to be blown off their hinges and clouds of drywall dust to come billowing out into the yard. All of the upstairs windows blew out and several of the downstairs windows blew as well.

"Nice arm son," Steve told his boy with a wink.

Now came the hard part. No one could be allowed to escape. Using economical shots, as well as frequently moving their position, Steve and his crew kept all but one group of gangbangers inside. As those trapped in the compound found cover Steve's people held their fire to conserve ammo unless they had a sure shot.

A stalemate was eventually reached where both sides had stopped firing waiting for the other to make a fatal move. Suddenly screaming could be heard and the sound of running. Several people were running towards the extremely damaged mansion. It wasn't back up, it was the escapees returning to what passed for safety with a small horde on their tail.

* * *

The smoke was making it hard to breathe even with their faces covered. Every once in a while there would be a pop and a high speed whine but he could never figure out what it was. It didn't take long for the men to realize that there was no way they could stay where they were at. The flames weren't bad but the heat coming off of the fire was incredible. The smoke was nearly unbearable as well.

Scott and Iggy met up with J. Paul and Clay Jr. and the four men backed further and further away, finally winding up very near where their vehicles had been hidden. Ten minutes passed while they listened to screams, cries, and gunfire coming from within the black smoke. The worst was when someone started screaming for their mother or to Jesus to save them. It would have gotten to the men more if they hadn't been worried. David and Brandon were missing.

Another ten minutes and Scott was ready to take off looking for them. In fact he started to say so when Brandon came stumbling out of the smoke half dragging David who was bleeding from his arm and a large gash on his head.

* * *

Brian felt what he thought was a gentle tug on his sleeve but when he turned to look he saw a spreading red stain on the arm of his shirt. "Damn, Austin is going to kill me," he thought right before the symptoms of mild shock had him falling to his knees.

The gang bangers at this location had regrouped quickly and had disbursed into the overgrowth as soon as they had sensed that the outpost was toast. They were all running in generally the same direction – towards Austin and Brian's position – which Bob mentioned could mean they had a fall back location or bug out vehicles stored nearby.

As soon as the statement was out of his mouth their team was after them, flushing the gang members in the general direction of the second diversion explosives. Glenn hoped that the boys still had it hooked up; it looked like they might need it after all.

But the ZKKers weren't running haphazardly or in a panic. A few times they stopped to fire at their pursuers whom they have finally spotted. When that happened Glenn's team would have to stop, find cover, and return fire until the gangbangers decided to push on. It was on one of these exchanges that Brian had been caught in the crossfire while trying to locate Austin's new position. One of the more intelligent bangers had flanked their team and come up on their side. Ronan, big guy that he is, slung Brian up on his shoulder and carted him over to a building that looked like a personal home but that was a dentist's office at one time if the sign on the door could be believed.

Glenn ran over, Curtis following with the first aid supplies, while Bob stood guard. It was a straight in and out. They patched him up, offered him something for the pain (which he refused on the grounds he would make him groggy) and then went back to following the escaping gang members albeit more slowly. Glenn asked Curtis to stick with Brian to make sure he wasn't accidentally left behind in the heat of the moment. Now if they could only find out what happened to Austin.

There were simply too many of them; they were like damn roaches. For every one they shot, they either got a solid kill or a zombie … and there still were two or three more ZKKers pulling their weapons to replace the one that fell. What a SNAFU.

* * *

Dix's side burned where he had been grazed by this crazy chick with more piercings than sense. The bullet was probably skank covered and he was going to have to put up with Waleski's damn sarcastic bedside manner.

Kevin's hand was wrapped in a bloody rag where some other chick had slammed a window down on his hand. He could still shoot but the hand was swelling.

Lee's primary weapon had malfunctioned and they didn't have time to figure out why so he was now firing with the first weapon he had come across and it was a piece of crap dropped by a gang banger. Lee growled to Dix, "Probably dropped it on purpose just to mess with me."

That made Dix smile; almost. Three ZKKers sprang up in front of them and then dropped just as suddenly, each with a single bullet drilled into their forehead. Damn that boy is good. James may have thought he was sent to "safety" for Sissy's sake but he was wrong. Dix just had him doing the job that suited his skills best. The question was going to be whether he had the mental fortitude to live with what his skills could do.

* * *

Off in the distance the sound of screaming was getting louder. That didn't make sense. The action was here, the screaming should be here. Why were screaming people running in their direction?

Now he knew how it felt to be treed. The small horde had attacked everything in its path. They must have been attracted to the explosions. It was both good luck and bad; good luck that the horde was finishing the job that they started, bad luck that they were getting caught up in the middle of their "work."

Every member of his team had found some high ground; trees and roofs mostly though his son was up on top of one of those really tall, old-fashioned street lamps.

There couldn't be too many left alive over in the compound and in a few more minutes they were going to start thinning the horde down so that they could get down and get to their vehicles and get the hell out of Dodge. This battle was done and the ZKK wouldn't be using this particular location again.

Suddenly Steve saw his son jerk in surprise and looked down and around. Then he grabbed the street lamp's pole as it started leaning. The noise of the popping rivets drew the attention of some wandering zombies that had begun to lose interest in what was going on inside the compound. They were heading towards the boy's position.

Steve was trying to swing down from the tree when his rifle strap got caught on a broken branch effectively hanging him up.

"Dad!" Steve stopped trying to untangle himself long enough to look up. Another zombie had arrived on the scene right as the lamp post gave up its integrity entirely tossing his son heavily onto the cracked and weed-infested sidewalk. If the call for help hadn't drawn the rager's attention the lamppost giving way would have. And it was hungry.

"Nnnnooooooooo!"


	209. Day 251 (part 6)

_**Day 251 (Sunday) – April 8 – A Not-Restful Day (part 6)**_

Scott ran over and grabbed David while Iggy got Brandon over beside their vehicle and started checking him for smoke inhalation. Both young men were pale beneath the black grime that covered their faces where their mask had not.

As Brandon gulped for air every other phrase he explained everything was going as planned when suddenly they started hearing these popping and whizzing noises. They had just figured out that the noises were coming from the tires when a zombified gang member came out of the smoke half cooked from the heat of the tire fire but still mobile.

It grabs David and they go down. The two are rolling around so much that Brandon couldn't take a shot, especially not a head shot. Suddenly there were several of those pops and whizzes again. Something hot runs across the back of Brandon's calf causing his leg to buckle. He goes down and at the same time the zombie and David stop moving with the zombie collapsed on top.

Brandon scrambles over and puts his rifle directly against the zombies head only he realizes that it is already sanitized. He pushes him off David who has finally started to try and extricate himself only to scream in silent agony and grab his bicep.

But the bloody wound wasn't anything like any they had ever seen. You could swear it was a bullet wound … a small entry hole … except the zombie didn't have a gun on it. Then Brandon notices something sticking out of the base of the zombie's skull. Leaving David wrapping a relatively clean rag around the wound, Brandon eases over and discovers he can just grab whatever it is. David stops him and makes him use a piece of trash to keep any of the body fluids from touching his fingers. It takes a pretty good tug to free it but at least now they can get a good look at it.

It was thin, black, and rubbery with a metal tip …. Holy crap! When the tires get too hot, their stems are shooting off as shrapnel. That's what all the popping and whizzing is. They take another look at David's arm but there doesn't appear to be an exit wound … the stem is still in there; and it's in there deep.

They are making their way back to the vehicles for the first aid supplies and to wait for Iggy which they hear a revving from out in the black smoke. Suddenly a black Cadillac Escalade comes barreling through the tires barely missing three oak trees, forcing David and Brandon to dive into a culvert, and then takes off on 56th Street heading north. Because he couldn't roll very well he cracked his head on the pavement which is what caused the head wound.

While Brandon was giving Scott details Iggy had been getting both young men into the back of truck's camper. He thanked Glenn for figuring out how to refill oxygen tanks and then cursed because they only had one small bottle with one face mask with them. Of the two, Brandon appeared to be the one in the most respiratory distress so he got the oxygen while Iggy went to work trying to stabilize David's arm.

J. Paul and Clay Jr. drove one vehicle while Scott drove the other so that Iggy could monitor his patients. "Scott, we've got to get back to Sanctuary … now. Brandon isn't breathing right and it's going to take surgery to remove whatever is in David's arm."

Both vehicles pulled out and Scott called OSAG's Scott … codenamed Radar for this event … and told him to relay the information that a bogey had escaped and could be headed their way, giving details of the make, model, and color as well as the approximate speed it was travelling.

He had just put the mic down we he hit the first of what looked like who knows how many zombies that were slowly shuffling their way towards the screams and cries still emanating from the warehouse compound. Zombie gore splattered the windshield and it took forever to get his visibility back using the wipers … dammit, somebody had used the truck and forgotten to refill the wiper fluid reservoir.

* * *

Austin could see his team from the second floor window of the house he was in, but he didn't dare make any noise trying to get their attention. He'd barely made it up the stairs and barricaded the door. They'd nearly gotten him. What drugged out freaks used zombies as guard dogs?!

Waiting for Brian to return he'd been peaking in the windows at the surrounding houses to see if there was anything worth gathering once the battle was over with. Every house had been ransacked … except the last one. There were boxes and supplies all over the place. And he'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. He should have known that something was wrong when it was so easy to get into the house. He was headed to the back of the house when the first one surprised him. Turning quickly to escape he ran into another. Barreling down a hall way it was confronted with three more. He was cornered until he saw the stair railing. He stood on an entry table that cracked under his weight but he grabbed the spindles in time to keep from falling directly into the zombies. He climbed the wall with his feet and jumped the rail and then rain upstairs only to find more of the freakazoids. He'd wised up and didn't go into any open rooms and instead opened the closed door. He was out of time and out of options … and dang lucky that this room didn't have any resident boogey men in it lying in wait.

Now all he could do is pray the door held while he watched his friends tenaciously follow the ZKKers. Then he realized where those gangbangers was headed. He considered his options and then realized he didn't have much of a choice.

He gingerly opened the window and carefully removed the screen and then climbed out onto the roof. He knew he didn't have much time left. Three of the gang had already reached the garage and started up one of the big trucks that were in there. The other three gang members made a run for it, but only two made it. His team suddenly jumped up and began running, determined that the ZKKers wouldn't escape. He was out of time.

"DOWN!"

Brian knew his friend's voice like it was his own. It was instinctual that he obeyed the screamed command. He didn't know why, but he knew it was important. He took Curtis down with him who fell forward pushing Bob off of his feet. Glenn had skidded to a halt and was kneeling as the truck was halfway out of the garage at high speed and then … BLAM! Glenn flew backwards as the house and garage blew up.

Austin, despite being mentally prepared for the explosion, lost his balance and fell from his perch knocking the wind from himself.

Curtis was the first to recover. He saw the zombies exiting houses all around them. In a near panic he began pushing and shoving the rest of the team into getting up and moving. Everyone had some kind of wound, Glenn's were the worst. A big sliver of wood had caught him up near his collar bone on the right side.

They were dragging each other and hobbling as fast as they could back to their vehicles. Austin is stammering, "Damn, I'm sorry Glenn. I …. "

Glenn, ever the pragmatist replied gruffly, "Don't worry about it kid. What's a sucking chest wound between friends?"

* * *

Where the heck do all these things keep coming from?! It's not like we don't sanitize 90% of the ones we see. Unless someone someplace is doing something to make more of the pestilence with no thought to the consequences for everyone else you'd think the supply would dry up eventually.

All the screaming and carrying on that Dix heard coming their way? Zombies. These were patently part of the dead from the Big Fire. They didn't have any obvious wounds but many of them appeared charred in places, especially on their feet and legs. Nasty.

I guess it doesn't really matter what made them, they just are. Those ZKKers who thought to escape the explosion and the resulting chaos ran smack into a horde that had been approaching on their unprotected rear. The first of that group didn't stop in time and had been gobbled up by the horde; several zombies with ZKK insignia had joined their ranks.

Lee had just thrown away another jammed weapon, swearing that he must have done something to be on someone's crap list, when he spotted Chevy cargo van careening in their direction. It didn't matter, zombie or gang member, you got in the way then you became part of the black top. Chris was preparing to fire when he recognize Dante' at the wheel.

The van skidded to a halt. "Get in," he groaned. "But someone else is gonna have to drive."

No kidding. Dante' was one solid bruise from head to toe.

Kevin asked, "What happened?"

"I done got run over," sighed Dante', his Cajun accent thick. "Oh … kids … these are the friends I tol' you about. Don' give 'em as hard a time as you give me. You hear?"

Dix who had climbed into the driver's seat looked back at a sea of childish faces looking at him like he was the blasted Calvary or something. To give himself some time to think he put the van in drive, headed to James' position, and asked, "What ran you over?"

"Not a what, a who … a whole damn bunch of who's."

Dante' had made it over to the house the children were in but wasn't able to approach it right away. Things eventually got so dangerous he felt he didn't have any choice but to try to rescue the kids. Right as he was crossing the road, a huge crowd ran around the house and quite literally ran over him. He's leg gave out, he went down, and the people continued to trample him. Luckily the feet were mostly bare or in tennis shoes. If they'd all been in boots he would likely be dead or on his way.

Once he got over there it took forever for him to calm the kids down. "He looked scarey," said one little girl. He was trying to think of how to get the kids out when they told him about the van that was used to transport them to various job sites. He checked the fuel level then loaded the kids in and waited for the right time to cut out of there.

Kevin, better with kids than the others, had the kids all calmed down and quiet by the time Dix made it to the three-story townhouse that James had chosen as his perch. The problem? No James.

* * *

Steve's heart literally skipped a beat. He son was lying unconscious on the ground while a rager and several other zombies made a beeline for him.

Forget the rifle, pulled his Glock 17 out of its holster and doing one of the moves out of the movies that rarely happen in real life he sanitized the rager as he used a box cutter blade to cut the rifle strap "BLAM"! Drop to the ground, rolled upright taking a step

"BLAM!" "BLAM!" "BLAM!" sanitized three more zombies.

Sensing an enemy behind him he turned and "BLAM!" caught the zombie at point blank range blowing the top of its head off.

Turning back towards his son he ran the last two feet "BLAM!" "BLAM!" taking down two more zombies that were closing in.

Crouching over his son's still unresponsive body "BLAM!" he sanitized the zombie that had gotten in Rusty's way as he was running over to cover Steve.

He pick's his son up in a fireman's carry and he and the rest of his team hurried back to their vehicles. "BLAM!" he sanitized the zombie that was keeping him from putting his son in the back of his vehicle. "BLAM!" –and click – as the magazine was emptied into the skull of a zombie that had grabbed Steve's arm and was attempting to pull it out of its socket.

Kicking that zombie away, Steve hops in the back seat and gathers his son in his arms while his team mates tear out of there with both vehicles. Destination: Sanctuary where Chad and the rest of the clinicians would be waiting.


	210. Day 251 (part 7)

_**Day 251 (Sunday) - part 7**_

While the four teams had been operating in battle mode, our intrepid patrol teams hadn't exactly been sitting on their hands. It became obvious within an hour of beginning their grid-by-grid patrol that the number of zombies for the day was at a level it had not been in weeks, at least since the Hive and concurrent big fire. Single shamblers were ignored unless they were within certain grid locations. A small group of zombies were sanitized down to the last member. Large groups and hordes of any size were radioed into Radar where he relayed the information to whatever DJ was on at the time who in turn shared it everyone within their broadcast audience as a community service.

Anyone wearing ZKK insignia had a price on their head. Matlock's team initially didn't see any ZKKers but the OSAG patrol did engage two groups and halved their numbers before allowing them to escape out of the TTT.

I'm not sure what the OSAG's patrol team did, whether they included training exercises, but Matlock did. He took the time to teach Clark, Samuel, and Eric a lot of things to look for in addition to what they were already used to looking for when they are on patrol. He also took them to areas they don't normally go on patrol and asked them to figure their direction, speed, and landmarks that would get them home the quickest whether in a vehicle or on foot.

Things really heated up when they got the call that a Cadillac had escaped from the Grant Park offensive and was heading north. Matlock then asked them if they knew what a Cadillac Escalade was and anything else they thought such as whether they knew the most direct path that would bring the vehicle into the TTT from its last known location.

In the end however it was OSAG's patrol that ran into the Cadillac. Sanctuary's patrol's combat came later.

* * *

Dix and Chris got out of the van and began looking for any sign of James. Dix then went up to James' perch and looked to see if he had left a clue or a sign where he went. As soon as he entered the building he started worrying, there was several blood smears on the walls and on the hand rails leading up to the second floor. Above the second floor all was clear.

Dix surmised that at some point for some reason James decided to come down from his sniping locations. At or around the second floor landing he had run into trouble. There weren't a lot of excess holes in the wall so there couldn't have been many shots fired. Looking in one of the ground floor rooms Dix found two ZKKers sanitized and tumbled one on top of another.

So the question was did the blood belong to the ZKKers or to James? As Dix went to leave the townhouse he noticed a painting on the lobby wall that had a circle drawn on it in a brownish-red paint – not paint, blood. There was also a brownish handprint on the corner of the wall.

It only took a second for Dix to realize that here was the clue that James had left him. The picture was a panorama of the townhouses around the lake. The circle was which of those townhouses he was going to try to get to. The brown handprint on the wall – more blood – led Dix to believe that James was hurt.

Dix and Chris got back in the van and drove it around to the townhouse James had indicated. All was quiet; neither the zombies nor the other chaos had reached this area yet … or so it appeared. Dix had just opened his door to get out after looking around when a bullet sunk into the ground right beside the door. He jumped back in the van and slammed the door and it was probably the only thing that saved his life.

A rager slammed into the driver's side window hard enough to crack it. Lee popped the side window and aiming a pistol sanitized the zombie at nearly point blank range.

The kids were shrieking in terror and Dix had to bellow, "Kevin, I need those kids down and silent!"

As Kevin, with Dante's help, calmed and quieted the kids, Dix was looking to see where the bullet had come from. A flash on the second floor balcony of a building directly across from them caught his attention. Using his binoculars Dix could see it was James and he was hurt. He could also see James pointing to several different locations over and over again.

Dix couldn't see anything but James obviously didn't want them entering the area. Dix did note that the three areas James pointed at all had a good view of the courtyard of this block of townhouses. Dix instructed Chris and Lee to stay quiet and out of sight but to keep an eye on any movement in the directions James had pointed. Dix crawled over the top of Chris and exited on the passenger side of the van.

He then followed the back of the townhouses and came up to the lakeside entrance of the building James was in. Slowly he made his way up checking at each level to make sure he wasn't walking into a trap. It was easy to figure out which apartment James was in by the blood trail (it had become heavier) and the bloody prints on the doorframe and knob.

Not wanting to startle James and get shot, Dix remained low to the ground while he crept into the apartment.

"I saw you leave the van. If it isn't you I'm toast so just tell me one way or the other and kill the suspense already," James gasped out.

Dix came up and around the entry way wall to find that James had crawled back inside and was trying without success to stand. He looked at Dix and said, "Momma is so gonna kill me for this" right before keeling over completely.

* * *

As you might have guessed dear future reader, this is hard as heck for me to write. I have to keep on point, try not to think about it too hard, stick to what I was told, forget that I was nearly out of mind my with worry as information slowly started dribbling in. If the story seems cold and simply a recitation of facts, remember that I wasn't there and didn't witness these events and if I think on it too hard while I try and record the events in this journal, I turn into a mass of quivering gelatin and I start crying, something I've done enough of over the last few hours.

At this point in the timeline the best I've been able to piece together three of the four teams were heading for Sanctuary, all with team members with life threatening illnesses. OSAG's patrol had engaged the enemy and triumphed in both lowering the number of ZKKers in the TTT and in sanitizing one of their upper leaders. We didn't learn how high up until much later.

Tom had awoken in recovery and was doing as well as could be expected though he had a mild allergic reaction to one of his pain management medications that left Chad and Waleski scrambling to find a substitute. Patricia on the other hand was not doing well at all. Her blood pressure was erratic but thus far the baby did not seem in any distress. It was Patricia's mental outlook and fear that were her primary problem; she fought the labor every step of the way leaving her unable to employ any of the relaxation techniques that Terra and Chad's sister were trying to help her with.

I was working myself silly trying to prepare for the incoming wounded. It was the only way for me to get any relief from my stress level. Had I known about James while all of this was going on I would probably would have lost it right there.

* * *

Dix ran over to James finally allowing his worry to touch him for the first time. Thankfully the boy had just fainted. Dix assessed his injuries. His left side had a bad gouge in it that angled up. His left bicep had an in and out wound. Blood from both wounds was seeping around the makeshift bandages that James had tried to tie on himself.

Dix thought, "First thing, we get these kids some damn first aid training for something besides sprains and splinters. James did a half way decent job but would Samuel have known what to do under the same circumstances? If we are gonna ask them to be little soldiers we gotta give them the damn tools to survive the job."

The big man fixed pressure pads out of strips he cut out of the remaining furniture and then held them in place using the cords and sash he ripped off the window blinds. James was now awake but hurting bad. He explained to Dix that he had seen the moneychanger get into a Ford Explorer and was moving to a new location to get a better angle when he was surprised by three ZKKers. He'd only been hit once but it was from the ground floor up to his position.

His return fire hit two gang members and the third ran off but then circled back around and had been chasing him when the rager had intercepted him. James was able to get to his current location while the rager was occupied eating ZKK tripe. Weak though he was, James was able to explain to Dix that the commotion had drawn the attention of some others. Those others were wearing a different insignia however so he had no way to know whether they were friendly or not.

Looking over the banister Dix spotted the small group that James had indicated just as they decided to try and attack the van. Lee and Chris were out of the van returning fire. Guess that decided that. Using James' rifle Dix sighted in and took out all three targets after they came into the open.

With that settled Dix decided it was time to get James down to the van, back to their vehicles (but not by climbing over any damn trees and walls), and then head for home. Dix needed to see his son and make sure he was OK.

The trip down the stairs wasn't pleasant. Dix wound up have to carry James over his shoulder and that caused James to faint again. Chris met them half way back to the van. There were zombies everywhere. The only stop they made on their way to the main gate was when the kids started screaming for "Nana" and pointing to an older woman being pursued by several zombies. Dix slewed the van up into the yard she was running across and Kevin and Lee only the sliding door and pulled her in while Chris and Dante' sanitized the ones that were too close.

The woman's name is Winefred Miller but no one is around her long before they start calling her Nana, even Dix. She'd been allowed to take care of the children when she wasn't cooking and cleaning for the ZKK lieutenants that was in charge of the Cheval compound.

There was no one left at the main gate to stop them from leaving though the security arm was still down. Dix snorted at that and simply drove through it sending wood splinters in every which direction. Then back into Calusa Trace and to their vehicles.

They were a three vehicle convoy as they were headed back to Sanctuary. They were nearly there when suddenly a Ford Explorer blew passed them, side swiping the van before heading east on Bearss Avenue. Dix wasn't even tempted at that point to follow and radioed the info to Radar.


	211. Day 251 (part 8)

_**Day 251 (Sunday) - part 8**_

From Dix to Radar and then from Radar to Matlock. Luckily Sanctuary's patrol team wasn't far from home having just finished refilling their gas tanks before heading back out. They had stopped at the corner of US41 and Bearss Avenue to see if they could hear any vehicle when there was a rending crash to the east. Matlock told the boys to stay sharp and then he turned the jeep in that direction.

Not a half mile away, just east of where Bearss Avenue and Skipper Road create a strange intersection at the bend in the road, the speeding Explorer had splattered a zombie, jumped the curb and was wrapped up in an aluminum fence that surrounded a huge drainage pond. Steam bubbled up from where the nose of the vehicle was half buried in the muck on the edge of the water. The fence prevented the Explorer from doing a tip over tail roll landing upside down in the water, but not by much. The Ford wasn't in the water but it was still upside down and it didn't look like the fence was going to hold much longer.

Matlock would have sat tight and let circumstances finish things off but the rear window of the cargo area exploded outward. Two sets of feet followed the window. The feet were attached to a young male and female, both of whom had their hands tied behind them. The young man was doing his best to help the female up the incline but it was a struggle for them to keep their balance and not tumble backwards.

The driver's door opened and a fat little man fell in a suit fell out. As he tried to climb up the embankment he pushed the young man and woman out of his way and they tumbled backwards.

"Bastard," ground out Matlock. "Samuel, go help those two. Clark cover him to make sure no more clowns come out of the car. Eric, you're with me."

There was a reason why Matlock picked Eric. Eric had it rough at the hands at the pirates and he had absolutely no sympathy for "bad guys." If he had to shoot the man, Eric would do it without hesitation … and no regrets afterwards.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Matlock asked as the man tried to bluff his way to superiority.

The little fat man stuttered, "Do you know who I am? Take me where I want to go and you'll be paid handsomely."

"Yeah … about that. Where were you going in such a hurry?"

The ratty little tub sneered and said, "You don't need to know that until we are on the road. Come on man, I don't have all day for this foolishness. If you don't want the pay, someone else with greater intelligence will."

Eric snickered and asked, "Can I tell him?"

Matlock shrugged and looked on benevolently given the impression he was thinking, "Kids, always so impatient."

Smiling a wickedly Eric explained, "Well mister, we know you just came from Cheval so you're a member of the ZKK idiots. You aren't pointed in the direction of Citrus Park but it doesn't matter, there wouldn't be anything there for you anyway. If you were headed toward Grant Park … don't bother, it's gone too. If you were headed to New Tampa … that place is really gone."

The ratty little man with the shifty eyes got paler as each place was crossed off the list. Then he straightened his spine. "It doesn't matter, Zassat will pay for my return."

Putting two and two to hopefully make four Matlock asked, "This Zassat gent would happen to be fond of Italian suits and tattoos would he?"

"That's Mr. Zassat you peasant. He'll flay anyone that harms me."

"Hmmmm. I take it Zassat likes knives too."

"I've watched him skin men for merely walking in his shadow. He will … "

Matlock's voice and grin turned gleefully wicked and he got in the little ratty man's face and spit out, "Your Zassat and his blade met a man with a gun. Guess who won?"

"No! Impossible! Zassat is … " the little man said hyperventilating.

"The numb nuts is dead and sanitized already. Let it go and stop boring us with stories of dead boogey men," Eric pointed out.

The man began to panic, finally beginning to believe the demigod was dead he spoke in a rush, his words spilling over the top of one another. "I know things. I know lots of things. Where things are stored. Who to contact for more when that runs out. I can get you fuel … food … women. I can … "

The suddenly girl lets out a petrified scream.

Matlock turned, "Damn! Boys get them people up here and let's go!" Zombies had begun to pour out of the south side of the road way.

It was already a tight squeeze in the jeep with Matlock and four large, teenage boys. Adding more passengers just made it worse. When Matlock looked around to shove the last passenger … the ratty little fat man … he wasn't to be found.

Matlock asked Eric, "Where did the bastard go? You were watching him."

"About to be zombie chow," and pointed where the man was running … sort of jogging actually … up the road with several zombies on his tail.

Matlock looked at Eric in consternation and opened his mouth to speak but Eric cut him off the only a teenager can. "Look, you're always on us about saving ammo. So … I thought, why not save a little ammo," and then he grinned a piranha's grin.

Matlock shook his head, grinned and told Eric to get in the jeep. "Boy, you just won't do. But, we could have waited to see what his 'information' was worth."

"Autumn and I pretty much know all the places he did," came the voice of the young man from the Explorer. "We've fetched and carried for that demented accountant for nearly two months."

Eric, still in a good mood from dealing with the unlikeable man said, "I can't say for sure, but know certain folks like I do, I'd say you two just bought yourselves tickets to Disney World."

The young man and woman didn't know whether to be comforted by Eric's tomfoolery or even more scared that they'd gone from a devil they knew to one they didn't.

* * *

It didn't take long for those of us in the area to realize that the number of zombies was growing alarmingly fast. We also realized it could just be due to our battles with the ZKK. The only explanation we've been able to come up with thus far is that this horde is comprised of smoke inhalation victims of the big fire. No one noticed them because they traveled north through the now deserted burn zone. They started hitting our area this morning. The population of zombies isn't anywhere near the number there where in the Hive but there are enough of them that we have multiple hordes (some big, some small) all over the place.

I couldn't land on any task long enough with enough concentration that would keep me from worrying. Rose was wound up, waiting for David to return and to see how badly he was injured. Saen and Shorty had been ferried over to await the return of Glenn and Steve and his son. Waleski finally just sedated Josephine as her hysterics were getting to be more than any of us could take; the worst part it wasn't about Brandon, but about Patricia and how she was scared the same thing was going to happen to her.

The first team to return was Glenn's. All of the guys had minor injuries but Brian and Glenn were the worst. Brian's wound was cleaned and he was loaded up on antibiotics and painkillers and then put to bed so his body could finally relax enough to deal with the lingering effects of blood loss.

Glenn … he's resting quietly. It required surgery to remove the piece of wood and clean out the wound. As Chad said, once he and Ski finally had a chance to stop and breathe, "Lucky bastard … damn lucky bastard. Missed everything vital but did break the collar bone. He's going to be sore as hell and next to useless for a while for anything physical. He'll recover but it's going to take a while. Assuming that that little spit fire he's married to doesn't kill him first."

Chad and Ski were in surgery still working on Glenn when the group from OSAG showed up. Steve was fine until the girls tried to get him to let them load The Kid onto a stretcher. Shorty stepped in and handled Steve which allowed the girls to handle Hunter … that's The Kid's real name … Hunter. I never knew until then.

Hunter regained consciousness while the girls were trying to clean him up. He has a nasty concussion and Chad is all over that. He also broke a couple of ribs and probably broke a toe and chipped his ankle on the same side. He'll recover but he's another one that's going to be moving slow for a while. There isn't much you can do for broken toes, chipped ankles, and cracked ribs … but they sure are painful.

Next in was Scott's team. David was awake but groggy … and nauseous from pain. He hadn't lost a lot of blood but every time he coughed he nearly passed out from how it caused the shrapnel in his arm to move around. It actually wasn't David that was the worst off.

God please be with us through these trials. We lost Brandon. I still have a hard time believing it. David is completely tore up over it saying it was his fault. Scott blames himself for lighting the tires. Clay Jr. and J. Paul said they should have gone to look for them sooner. Iggy said he should have realized the risks and done more to prevent what happened. The truth is Brandon manned up and did the right thing helping David get back to Scott. Sometimes doing the right thing means you lose a battle; sometimes it can even cost you your life.

Smoke inhalation is a strange thing. It strikes different people in different ways. I don't know all the medical science behind it and to be honest I just can't … can't ask right now. Brandon's lungs began to shut down. It didn't matter that Iggy was giving him oxygen, his blood cells wound up starving to death. He lost consciousness about a mile from Sanctuary and never woke up. Chad officially called his time of death at 9:07 pm and they sanitized the corpse immediately. The funeral will be tomorrow, right after we bury Josephine's baby, and maybe Josephine too if … but that part comes later.

It was right after Scott arrived that we were told about James. Scott and I … there aren't words to describe the feelings we had, not adequate words anyway. Poor Bekah had to be the one to carry the message to us. What kind of world is it that a 9 year old is having to relay that kind of message about her own brother. Thank the Lord we didn't have long to wait before we saw Dix's convoy pulling onto the road making for Sanctuary as fast as he dared.

Scott and I would have run out to meet them on foot but the zombies had become a problem. We nearly did anyway except that McElroy had the turn key for opening the gate.

All three vehicles drove up and Nick had come out with a stretcher for James. Looking at me he said, "Patricia has finally gone into active labor. Terra doesn't think at this rate it will be much longer. I know you want … need … to be with James, but with everyone else occupied Terra might need help."

I didn't even want to think about it and was about to cry in frustration when a hand fell on my shoulder, "We'll go in there with Terra. Our boys are home, you go be with yours."

It was Reba and Betty. I'd never really been as alone in my fear as I had thought. Every mother and wife (whether papered or common law) had been feeling the same things I had; especially Betty who had both husband and son out there the same as I.

I went in to help but Rose came out and said to give them a minute. James started fighting tooth and nail when his sister and Melody started to undress him so Ski could check him over. "Dad and Dix are doing it," she said in exasperation. As worried as we both were it was impossible not to want to chunk James in the head for being so stubborn. But that's admitting the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Chad's expertise had to be spent on the worst injured … Glenn, Brandon, Hunter. Ski could handle James' injuries but I can't say that James enjoyed the lecture that accompanied his care. As soon as Ski finished his exam and patched James up he told him, "Don't be a problem kid. Let your sister give you the antibiotics and painkillers I'm prescribing and finishing cleaning you up. You give her a hard time and I'll shoot you in the ass with a tranquilizer then you won't know who is gonna see you naked."

That's our Waleski … stellar bedside manner learned at Miss Manner's School for Medics located in sunny, downtown Bagdad. I really DO thank God every day for that man. Many of us, including myself, wouldn't be here today without him.

Right after James fell asleep and we got word that Glenn was going to make it as well, Matlock pulled into Sanctuary to drop off the young man and woman their team had rescued.

The young man is Cooper and the girl, his fiancé, is Autumn. Cooper is as confident as Autumn is reticent. Scott was sitting with James for the first shift and I had been on my way to the kitchen to try and pull a late dinner together for everyone. I took them with me, offering them a place where they could sit down and talk that wasn't in the middle of the chaos we had going. I was on the point of asking them their story when Johnnie runs to meet me and demands to know where Daddy is and how "Brudder" is doing.

I'm trying to figure out why Johnnie is running around by himself when Sarah finally catches up. "Sorry Mom. He wouldn't listen." She gulped a breath and then asked, "Where do you want the food we fixed?"

I nearly broke down in tears. Charlene, Claire, Maddie, and Sarah had organized all the other kids that weren't on duty and they had prepared tortillas, salad stuff, and some kind of thick vegetable stew that had a polenta crust on top. That last had to have been Charlene's idea as the other girls haven't quite grasped the use of the wooden ovens yet. I told them to bring everything to the Dining Hall and people could eat in shifts.

I was told that the kids had all been fed already and that they were taking them back to our house if it was OK. I told them there were a few more kids somewhere … I didn't know at the time but Rilla and Rhonda were taking care of them … and that they would probably need to be fed too. In due course, everyone began to cycle through the Dining Hall eating if they felt like it. Most folks weren't hungry but ate a bit anyway to keep their strength up.

Then Matlock came back in right as the sun was going down and we needed to deal with that.

I was just getting back to Cooper and Autumn when we all heard this shriek, "No!" coming from right outside the Clinic. I ran over not for sure what I'd find. Josephine had overheard that Chad reporting Brandon's death. She was having hysterics. The shock was too much for her. I don't know if she really felt the way she felt or the drama and resulting emotions got away from her or just what. Reba and I tried to take her back to her place but every time she acted like she would cooperate she would fall to her knees and then run back to the clinic.

Within an hour she was spotting. Another 15 minutes and she was bleeding pretty heavily. Another hour after that and it was over. She miscarried the baby. She hadn't quite made it out of her first trimester and we don't have the facilities to determine exactly what caused it; could have been the hormones getting dumped into her blood from the emotional shock, could have been the fetus wasn't genetically viable, we'll just never know.

Losing a baby is horrible. I've lost two like that but … you learn to live with what happens and go on. Not that you grow callous, you just … I'm too tired, I can't put it into words right. Maybe this is another time there just aren't words to describe it adequately regardless of when you try and pen them.

The problem was Josephine was bleeding heavily. Chad said that in a perfect world she would likely have a hysterectomy at this stage in the bleeding. Unfortunately this isn't a perfect world. As I write this, we still don't know if Josephine is going to make it. There is some hope, but realistically its getting to the point that a miracle needs to occur.

Patricia is doing better as well. Something seems to have changed. The contractions are more productive but it is taking longer for her to give birth than Terra anticipated. All we can do is wait.


	212. Day 251 (part 9)

_**Author's Note** : Last part to Day 251. My apologies but after putting all of the energy into getting this day edited and posted I'm pretty wiped out and it will likely be a day or two before I post anything else; on this story and on the others. Not to mention we have some pretty nasty weather that may impact my internet connection. Asking if you "enjoyed" today's additions doesn't seem quite the thing given the subject matter but I wouldn't mind hearing how you reacted or what not. Also, this story is coming up on the end of "Year 1." I'm still trying to decide whether to continue "Year 2" here or start it in a new "story." You can give your opinion on that as well ... PM or review, whichever is easier._

* * *

 _ **Day 251 (Sunday) - Part 9**_

Everything is so topsy turvy. I'm exhausted. I had the jitters so bad I just had to go out to the shed to find some privacy and get away from it all. As soon as I closed the door though it just all hit me and I fell to the floor and started crying. I was doing my best not to let anyone hear me but Scott must have gotten worried when he couldn't find me.

He finally noticed I had the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the shed, but when has that ever stopped him from checking on me? Before I realized it we were wrapped in each other's arms holding on for dear life. So many things could have gone wrong today, so many did. So far the lives of most of our friends have been spared but the night is long and so are the coming days.

Scott didn't have the strength to lift me though I could barely move. We all but carried each other back to the house, got cleaned up and then, stepping back over all the kids that seemed to be asleep and draped over every surface, headed back over to the Dining Hall where the "de-briefing had started." That meeting was where I learned most of the details.

I also learned – though something had already told me – that Jim and Angus had been in constant contact with Sanctuary and were very cut up over our losses and injuries. Ski, who had walked over to the Radio Shack to let Tom's brother in law know his status and ask about the girl who'd just had the baby was doing, managed to convince the two men that trying to return in their current condition was just begging for more holes to be dug out in the cemetery. I'll talk to them myself tomorrow if I can and try and reinforce that idea.

Dix asked me to take notes during the meeting and I've done my best to put things in some facsimile of a correct timeline. Hopefully it's a job that won't have to be redone because I got something completely out of whack.

Most of the OSAG people returned home; only Steve and Shorty are remaining here as does Chad. Chad's sister went back with the others so that there would be some medical coverage over there if needed. Depending on Hunter's condition Steve and Shorty may be able to take him home later tomorrow. When Chad leaves depends on our other critical patients.

Most of the Aldea folks have gone home as well except for Glenn and Saen, Nick and Terra (and their baby, currently asleep in the extra bassinette we keep at the Clinic).

Any way you look at it we'll have extra folks to feed tomorrow and everyone will be pretty tired. I'm running a menu through my head but I'm so tired I'm not sure I'm thinking straight. After the debriefing Scott walked me home. He didn't have the energy to get into clean clothes and go back to the Clinic like he intended. They said we don't need to sit with James but that's not going to stop us. I took Scott's boots and belt off and rolled in a little further onto the bed.

Then I wrote a note and propped it where he could find it and another for the kids. I grabbed my lap desk that Scott made me so I could write in this journal where ever the feeling might hit me and then I headed over to the Clinic.

Betty and Reba were up as was Rose so that all of the other Clinicians could grab a few winks of sleep. I stuck my head in Hunter's room and saw Steve asleep in a chair and Shorty stretched out on a cot. I went to leave as quietly as I came when I realized that there really is such a thing as sleeping with one eye open. Steve's right eye was just a quarter open but when I stepped on some sand that was on the tile floor and it crunched the eye flew wide open. There wasn't any other reaction from Steve but I have a feeling that had he perceived a threat he would have been wide awake and across the room before I could have moved.

Rose will sleep in a moment when Melody wakes up and I'll go in to relieve Reba. We'll just keep rotating like that until everyone's medical condition is completely stabilized or the Clinic is empty. For now my boy is sleeping peacefully but I can see pain lines bracketing his mouth. More than likely he will need another pill when he wakes up. I'll tell Rose and she'll tell Melody.

Sometimes I wish there was a pill for the kind of pain I'm feeling right now. But, nothing really exists for that. Even if you think you find one it costs too much in other areas of your life. Maybe … maybe I can count on "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Daddy used to say it was the fire that strengthened the blade. If that's true I ought to come out of this with the strength of an Excalibur. I hope so, we've got some enemies that need smiting mightily.


	213. Day 252

_**Day 252 (Monday) – April 9**_

 _(Written before breakfast)_

I once heard a preacher talk about personal responsibility and stewardship. He said that even when ownership is debatable stewardship is not. The more mature you spirit becomes the deeper this concept is becomes and you realize how many different aspects of life are covered by stewardship; even emotions.

As much as we are to be stewards of the physical things in this life, we are to be stewards of the spiritual things in this life, of our emotions … including our pain, both physical and spiritual. We are supposed to learn to live with our pain when we experience it. Not fight it but use it and mold it into a constructive force rather than a destructive one.

I know I don't do that all the time. I rail against the perceived unfairness of events; I fight with things I cannot change. I hope that this time I am a better steward of my pain and grief than I have been in the past. Something good has to come out of all of this. And I need to set a good example for the kids, especially the girls. They are going to need role models how to survive as the "weaker sex" in the world's current incarnation.

Pain is the inevitable intruder in life. It is up to us whether we are good stewards and triumphant over that which seeks to destroy us; or whether we are good slaves, conquered and degraded by our circumstances.

Today, just as the first rays lightened the sky, we buried three of our number. I'm weeping so much I can barely see to write. I'll finish up tomorrow. Right now it just hurts too much.

* * *

 _(written that night)_

I can't believe it. I just can't b…. but it did happen. I just still have trouble believing it.

I've already written of everyone's injuries, Brandon's unexpected death and the loss of Josephine's baby. Now I must also add to this chronicle that we lost Josephine as well.

Chad said that her complications would have been difficult to manage even pre-NRS. Her age, general rundown condition (that most of us suffer from to one extent or the other), and Josephine's stress level only added to the problem. The length of time that she was experiencing low blood volume alone could have meant that even had she lived she may never have fully recovered.

Dix and Scott buried her and her baby, the tiny thing that it was, together in the same grave next to her grandmother. Brandon was buried next to his father. Poor Maddie was so shook up she went away mentally for a while. The only thing that seemed to reach her was when Tris put Cinda in her arms to hold and cuddle.

It was right after the last shovel full of dirt was put back in place that Samuel came pelting over for his father. A bus was coming and a couple of other vehicles after that.

Everyone's heart fell to their feet. I had to stop my crying and pull myself together so I tossed my journal aside and ran with the rest of them for my normally assigned position on the Wall. With so many of our men hurt our security, both mental and physical, was compromised. We were all exhausted but we still had to function whether we thought we could or not. This was a perfect time for our enemies to attack or lay siege to us. We ran towards the Wall but before we could get there McElroy was opening the gate. Opening the gate?!

My head was spinning in confusion. Once the opening was large enough Theo stuck his head through and said with a real serious look on his face, "Momma said not to get upset. We're gonna be setting up outside."

We? This is the part that chokes me up and I still find hard to believe. Dora and her family, some other men from her end of town, and the Korean archers came to our place. We found out not too long afterwards that at roughly the same moment people began showing up at OSAG, people that they had traded with or helped. Some that showed up had simply benefited from the destruction of the ZKK strongholds in their area. It was amazing to see the sense of community and to have proof positive that the concept of what goes around comes around applies to good things as well as bad. I know it could have just been that some of the people wanted to make "friends" with whoever the biggest and strongest in the area was. I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt … Scott and Dix have already said "watch everyone."

The issue of these people setting up outside the Wall however was unacceptable. Zombies roamed freely and in great number. We call ourselves Sanctuary for a reason. Were we that or not?

As we welcomed our visitors I did note that Dix did have a team surreptitiously go around locking down certain things like the Storehouse, the Cooler, the ammo bunker, etc. We would be good hosts, properly grateful for their offering of friendship and support, but we would not be foolish ones. We felt blessed at the unexpected turnout, but there was still a need to be a good steward of our home and goods. And there is that idea of stewardship again.

We were also careful to make sure that people realized a certain distance needed to be kept from the Clinic. We had several very ill comrades that could not risk infection. We also had a new mother and baby. Patricia has had a baby girl. Early appearances, if you can go on that with newborns, are that the baby is favoring Patricia rather than her attacker. Fair skinned and blue-eyed (most infants are I supposed) she has one golden curl on the top of her head like a cupie doll. I found out later that she and Jack both agreed to name her Josephine though they will use "Josie" instead of the more formal version. That actually surprised me a bit.

I suppose if anyone reads this I need to explain about Aldea? Well, Aldea is like Neverland. No one really knows where it is at except for the people who live there. It's our ace in the hole. I'm sure Steve and his crew suspect where Aldea is but even they'd have a hard time finding it without a little help. Matlock and Glenn have been extremely anal with regard to camouflaging their location and using alternative roads in and out, most of which they've built themselves; they even made it hard to see from the air using nets and such they found in a National Guard post.

Immediately after seeing how many people were around I became concerned about food and water sources. We made sure that everyone knew where the bathrooms were and they were checked frequently during the day to make sure everything remained sanitary. Only our people needed breakfast and for that I fixed a hearty grits type porridge with cheese and bacon in it.

Choi Soon Jin is the name of the Korean archery master. We were actually able to communicate with him today. He is learning English thanks to the pastor of a Korean church where he and his troop of archers have taken refuge. The girls took turns on the Wall. There are walled cities in Korean ancient history and I know that he spoke with Scott (through the translator) on this subject at quite some length. They also asked if we objected to them occupying the Old Geraci farm as their present location was insufficient for their needs. Considering how we are forming a mutual aid friendship certainly we had no objections.

Dora and her family are also in some trouble at their location. The ZKK, when they did the killing that had alerted Theo to the fact that something wasn't right, dumped something into the Springs that has made it undrinkable and it was the only fit source of fresh water in that area. The river is still too sick from all the bodies and debris floating in it. They are going to give it a little while – they have supplies to last them for about a week or so – to see if the water clears up but after that they may need to move to a new location as well.

I'm trying not to let my anger eat me up but those ZKKers have caused so much misery it's very hard not to relish their fall from power.

We have determined that there is one more ZKK stronghold located over in the Westshore area but it sounds like in addition to revenge against us they are mostly occupied with infighting and power plays. They threw a few small skirmishes at us but none of them had enough power to do much more than stir up a hornets' nest against themselves.

It's the zombies that proved the most problematic today. They roam in roughly the same numbers as they did back in September and October. Not quite so tightly packed but certainly enough so that even the most decrepit shambler could be a problem.

I scraped my menu plans. There were simply too many people to feed. I was wondering what to feed everyone and how to do it with the least disruption to our own food supply when two of the men that came with Dora brought in a large gator that they had planned to use for their own meal. It was skinned and then the tail was cubed and I made gator stew. I made plenty of greens to go with it and the older lady … she is quite funny once you get to know her a bit, even with the language barrier … showed me how to make Ginger Jalapeno Rice Cakes.

Betty and Reba were mostly busy with the milking and giving breaks to Terra who not only had to help Patricia but had her own baby to feed and take care of. Maddie stayed up in under me all day. She didn't say anything and I didn't say anything … I just let her breathe for a bit so she could start taking it in. She's going to spoil that baby something awful though if she isn't careful. Cinda isn't going to know how to entertain herself if she is carried and carted at all times. I finally dug out a piece of fabric and made a carrier so that at least Maddie could snap beans.

Saen is beside herself with worry. Glenn has a fever. That could mean that they didn't get all the little pieces of wood out and right now it is risky opening him back up. They'll watch the fever, continue antibiotics and wait and see if his body's defenses step up to the challenge.

Steve took his son, Shorty, and Chad home about the same time that everyone else left to go back to their respective homes. Nick and Terra went back to Aldea but Dante' was ferried over here. He was hurt worse than they thought. He's definitely got a cracked rib and his bad leg is swollen. His chest is badly bruised and he was having some chest pains so he's under observation tonight.

Brian is doing OK at home in Aldea. Austin's Sarah is helping to look after him though I've heard tell that she is real close to tying him to a chair to keep him still as ordered for a while.

David and James slept most of the day today for which I'm grateful. Neither one is the kind that will take well to enforced inactivity and I just wouldn't have had the energy to deal with that today. David will likely come home tomorrow but Ski wants to keep James at least one more night as he lost a lot of blood and was reading a low blood pressure earlier today though it is much closer to normal now. James also doesn't like to take pills or be dependent on help … he was a nightmare to potty train though he'll ring my tail if he ever reads this. He has to do everything by himself. I swear one of the first things that boy ever said was, "I do it!" He hasn't been fun to deal with today, tomorrow is going to be worse.

Our friends won't be back tomorrow unless they hear there is trouble. A show of solidarity by the community at large will hopefully cause the ZKK remnants to think twice before tangling with any of us … at least until their stupid grows back. None of us believe we've gotten a total reprieve from them.

Tomorrow will be devoted to going to the various compounds we destroyed and seeing what can be found. Also Autumn and Cooper – those are two interesting young people I'll give you that – have marked some locations out on a map and we are going to see what we see as far as whether there really is anything of value to us in those "hidden caches." Curtis, Chris, and Ronan may join us tomorrow … depends on what the situation looks like at daybreak.

Talked to Angus and Jim today a couple of times. They are anxious to get home but I'm truly convinced they understand that we need them home in one piece. Sounds like they might try to bring some stuff home with them from their travels as well. And they'll need to be well enough to travel with the horses which will mean moving even slower than what they'd like. I'm anxious to read that journal that Bekah convinced him to keep.

And for me, it is time for bed and time for me to try and continue to come to terms with our grief. Poor Maddie cried herself to sleep tonight. Tris and Tyce are lying on our floor asleep with all the other children from Cheval. I haven't even had time to contemplate how on earth we are going to handle that. Scott insisted on staying with James tonight at the Clinic. I have early guard duty in place of David. It will be another three or four days before Ski releases him for night guard duty and at least another two before he is even allowed to do guard duty during the day.

Tomorrow may be another nerve wracking day, but if I can just get a little rest I'm beginning to believe that I can handle it.


	214. Day 253

_**Day 253 (Tuesday) – April 10**_

Guests are lovely. Guests are wonderful. But as much as I appreciated our guests yesterday, especially under the circumstances, I was content – grateful if I'm honest – to see them go home last night. Don't get me wrong, they were a comfort, but sometimes you just have to regroup and we have enough new people to absorb without the added burden of being hospitable in trying times. I'm sure they would have understood but I have my own standards I live by. That may sound a little contradictory if not crazy … but it's my crazy and it's what keeps me sane.

Before I go any further I need to introduce our three newest adult members here at Sanctuary. Winifred "Nana" Miller is a "59 and holding thank you very much" petite woman of medium build, with a tart personality, and some of the kindest brown eyes I've ever looked into. A spinster by choice, she raised other people's children rather than have her own. She was working at Schwartzkoff Elementary, setting up for the next school year, when she was drafted to help in a children's rescue program back in August.

"I have no idea what happened to those children. The NRSC were evacuating them out in groups but I haven't the foggiest where they were sending them. One of these days I hope to find out they are all safe and went to good homes."

After the final evacuation of the last group of children the NRSC Chaplain at the base tried to get her a place on an outbound plane but he was killed before he completed the paperwork. No one knew what to do with her after that and she was forced to make her way back to her home in Calusa Trace. She had seen our people a few times, other groups as well, over the months but had been too afraid to approach anyone. She was living by her wits alone but it wasn't enough. When she finally did brave drawing the attention of a group, she quickly found it was the wrong type of people.

"The only thing that has given me a will to live the last few months has been the children. Some of them are terrible hellions but maybe now they won't need to be to survive and they will calm down."

Nana, as she prefers to be called by one and all, was a godsend with the kids yesterday. With Dora's family here it was like Sanctuary had been invaded by three troops of Monkeys. Today, with Dora's family back at their place and Nana large and in charge, we were down to one troop of monkeys that were under control most of time. She is amazing and could likely charm the spots off of a leopard; she certainly charmed the grumpy out of Mr. Morris.

Cooper and Autumn have also been a godsend in their own way. Cooper was on leave from school doing a semester of independent study here in Florida. Autumn had taken a sabbatical from her job as first responder. They had wanted just a little more free and breezy time before getting engaged and finishing up the last leg of their schooling. After that their responsibilities would have increased to a point that they may not have gotten the same opportunity again. They're both just 20 and I've had to bit my tongue more than once not to make the mistake of calling them "kids." David is 21 and I still do it to him every once in a while but he just laughs at me. Rose and James don't find it quite so humorous.

Cooper and his lady had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. They were caught up in a group of people hiding in the Florida International Museum over in St. Petersburg when it was attacked; not by zombies by organized looters. They were forced to haul paintings and other art work to waiting semi-trailers. Autumn had actually bandage The Bookkeepers hand after an injury which probably one of the initial factors that saved their lives. They were also young and strong thus "making the cut." Those that didn't "make the cut" were ruthlessly sanitized by men carrying automatic weapons.

Now after months of slavery and mistreatment Cooper and Autumn were the only ones left from the original group. If he had been alone Cooper would have tried to escape long ago; however, The Bookkeeper kept Autumn on a short leash – sometimes literally – and he knew she'd pay for anything he did.

They were his "pets" and he treated them accordingly … sometimes well, sometimes horrifically, mostly thoughtlessly. In other words much as the man called Zassat treated The Bookkeeper. Had Zassat even half suspected that Autumn had as much of his organization memorized as she did it would have been an automatic death sentence.

They likely weren't far from that moment anyway. Zassat, if not actually mad in a clinical sense, had slowly developed all the classic signs of megalomania and narcissism. He wasn't clinically insane yet, but in a very practical and moral sense he was, especially as paranoia began to take hold. Even The Bookkeeper's days were numbered and he had been squirreling away his own cache of treasures in case he needed to make a quick escape.

"We never did find out what either of them were called pre-NRS though they acted like they were famous for something in particular. Zassat was some kind of Russian slang for something that is so scary it'll make grown men wet themselves. The Bookkeeper however was just that … an accountant by trade. Apparently they knew each other from some organized crime ring but people that asked too many questions usually wound up dead in gruesome ways."

In other words this world is much better off without the great Zassat and his sidekick The Bookkeeper. Them and their silly games of who can be king of the world. Hopefully this is the way that all those kind of landsharks will end their days … always falling short of their goals.

Today Cooper and Autumn went with Dix, Scott, and a few of the others to scout out the locations of those caches and see if we could secure them for our own use. More on what was found later, first I need to get back on track.

First thing this AM Mr. Choi and his interpreter showed up. I thought they were coming again but it was just a courtesy to let us know they had indeed voted to move to the Old Geraci place and would be working over there building a homestead for their people. They informed us what channel they monitored and that they would come if we called and asking if they could count on the same courtesy.

Dix talked tonight about how this is more and more like the settlements of the wilderness. There were people that lived full-time inside the walled cities and forts and then you had homesteaders that lived in communities of their own. In times of trouble, the outlying homesteaders would come to the walled city or fort for protection and/or soldiers from the walled city/fort would go out into the countryside in aide of the homesteaders. In return for this protection, the homesteaders provided resources to the walled forts or offered warm bodies that took turns on guard duty or in building projects that benefitted everyone. Kind of like a big, complex mutual aid society.

We'll have to see how that works. It certainly has historical precedence but at the same time I'm not sure if I want to find myself living in a city-state as in the Greek or Roman historical eras. It would mean giving up life as we once knew it when the US was whole. Of course, that decision may have already been taken from us by people and circumstances. Who knows?

After breakfast Dix and Scott headed out with Cooper and Autumn and met up with a three man team from Aldea and a three man team from OSAG. They started on the north end of the circle they made and what they found … and occasionally ran into … was interesting. They debated about splitting up and saving some time but after Sunday's action it was just safer to remain in numbers for back up.

Basically as it stands, New Tampa is a total loss structurally but enough zombies had cleared out that our folks were able to see that there was still quite a bit of artwork worth trying to salvage. Scott saw a couple of things that we might like for Sanctuary … maps and books and such … but I think OSAG will take most of it over to the university and house it so that Jo can take care of it for posterity, or something noble like that. That included a buttload of jewelry (new and antique), single precious stones, and gold and silver coins. We'll like split that stuff three ways and hide it for future insurance in case the war moves our way and we needs bribes or ways to buy ammo. Right now that stuff is little more than dead weight … we can't eat it, can't plant it to make it grow, it's little more than a liability.

From there they stopped at a food cache out on Morris Bridge Rd. It had been broken into; by whom we don't know. After that the teams stopped at a fuel cache on Mango Rd off of US301; that's another place that got raided. Autumn was getting frustrated but Dix told her not to get upset. It probably happened Sunday. The minions heard their leader was dead and they took what they could and hightailed it before the same boot came down on their heads.

Next stop was Grant Park. If there was anything worth having in that place it'll be a while before anyone can get to it. The tires are still on fire and there are a lot of zombies banging around inside the compound. They decided it was the better part of valor to leave that place for another day.

A small outpost on Orient Rd actually yielded a small cache of food and ammo but nothing very great once it was split three ways. At least they found a couple of guns for Cooper and Autumn, neither one of whom was shy about taking them up and putting them on.

They had to skirt downtown which was full of crazies and zombies … then again, some people says its always been that way even pre-NRS … to make their way to the other side of the airport to come up Eisenhower Blvd. There were a couple of warehouses out that way with more artwork and antique furniture in them. The rugs would be useful this winter so the gang grabbed an enclosed trailer that was parked in the same warehouses and loaded the already rolled rugs up.

That's when they ran into the same problem that Austin had run into. "Guard zombies" if you can believe it. Scott said after they sanitized the creepy exhibition of stupidity, he was able to examine things and it looks like there was a waited timer that started after you opened the doors to the warehouse. If you didn't know what you were looking for you wouldn't really see it. After the doors had been open a certain amount of time the sand bags would release a gate that held the zombies in and they would then come and get whatever was making the noise. Ick. Sick minds; brilliant but sick.

Eventually all of the artsy stuff will be moved to the university but right now it's not a high enough priority to waste the fuel and manpower on. It will either be here when they come back for it or it won't. That's the way we have to look at it.

Living the warehouse of the dead behind they pulled out and followed the Veterans' Expressway north to Hanley Rd. Scott said it was awful to see what has become of Tampa International Airport. Two planes had run into the main terminal and something had destroyed the air traffic control tower. Broken planes lay scattered like toys everywhere.

The cache at Hanley Rd was where The Bookkeeper had kept some of his hoarded goodies. No one had found it and though it was mostly useless gold, jewelry, and other small items of the like, there was also a pretty good stash of food. Dumped that into the trailer with the rugs. The little man had also squirreled away some food and fuel at a place on Sheldon Road that he sometimes stayed at. It looked like someone had broken into that stuff but hadn't taken more than one man could carry. This cache had a lot of wine and liquor in it, not exactly stuff we could really use but something was better than nothing. I supposed the wines used to be expensive but none of that means anything to us these days.

When the teams got to Citrus Park Mall Cooper and Autumn could only look at the destruction in awe. The mall itself had been the main fuel depot. It had also house a lot of food and other kinds of things of an everyday use nature. The fuel blew with such force that it basically imploded that end of the building which in turn fell so heavily that it suffocated the fire before it had the chance to spread.

Entering through another store it looks like we can still get to some of the stuff, but the integrity of the rest of the mall is in such question that we won't be able to go in very far. We'll take what we can without endangering ourselves too much and leave the rest for others brave enough – or crazy enough – to risk having the remainder of the building collapse upon them.

From there they worked their way to Cheval and ran into a lot of zombies. The house where the food was kept was only partially ransacked so they finished filling the trailer and their vehicles with what they could while Dix and the guys from OSAG grabbed any weapons lying around on the corpses that were still serviceable. There wasn't a whole lot of excess ammo and Cooper said that Zassat had been expecting another load in next week. Dix has a few ideas about that but needs to talk to Steve and Matlock to see if they agree that we have the manpower for the action.

It was getting close to dinner by that time which meant a hurry up and head from home kind of drive. The guys from OSAG stopped at Sanctuary only long enough to unload 2/3 of the trailer and then they hightailed it. Aldea grabbed their third and then they too headed for home at top speed. I don't care who you are and how much juice you think you have, it's not a good thing to be away from home once dark falls these days.

I was happy to have Scott home and safe and we shared our days … mine mostly contained laundry and gardening (got the first row of our self-blanching celery in and had pimento cheese stuff celery at lunch for the kids). He asked about how our wounded were and I filled him in and told him he was going to have to have a talk with James who was all but pouting because Ski wasn't letting him out of bed except to go to use a chamber pot. He's running a fever and had broken the scab over the wound on his side three times today because he keeps forgetting to be careful.

Scott took James some dinner and then wound up walking him back to our house. Apparently he had gotten his promise to mind Ski's orders if he came home. James, for all the fact that he likes quiet and alone time, misses the action of all the kids underfoot. I think the kids running this way and that will keep his mind off of what he can't do and will make him feel better in the long run … I hope.

Glenn is no better but thankfully no worse. At least the fever remains low-grade. Dante' is the one I'm worried about a little; he just isn't coming back the way he should. I think the man is depressed. None of the men quite know what to say to him, maybe I'll get nosey and try and see what I can do. Scott may not be happy about it but what he doesn't know about he can't fuss about until after it is all over with.

Talked to Angus and Jim again. Angus is pretty stiff and agitated about getting back on the road. His knee sounds awful however. I know they are wanting to come home, frankly I want them home so that I can see for myself what shape they are in, but it's going to be a couple of more days before they can even consider climbing back on those horses.

There is also the matter of getting Tom home to consider. We had thought that Glenn would take him home but Glenn isn't going anywhere for a bit if Saen has anything at all to say about it.

Things to be thankful for: Found three dead mice over in the Storehouse, it appears that Angus was right about the hot peppers killing them. They weren't far from the pile I had left for the little icky things to nibble on. I threw the dead mice over the Wall and freshened the hot peppers.

Things to worry about: While I was dumping the mice over the Wall, heard one of the Big Cats out hunting. Also heard a bunch of bull gators singing. Even heard a human scream and some gunfire that was probably zombie related. Why are there so many things out there that want to eat us?


	215. Day 254

_**Day 254 (Wednesday) – April 11 – Water Day**_

The days are turning even more hectic than they were before. The garden continues to produce though some of the plants are beginning to give out which is only as it should be considering they are all annuals. But for all of those that are done for the year, even more are producing. The tomatoes are doing really well though I think I'm going to have to let the geese and ducks wander freely out there most of the day instead of just the mornings. It's getting to be a waste of my time to hand-pick hornworms and other kinds of bugs off of the plants every day. As long as I have water for them to drink the birds seem to be content to eat their weight in snails, slugs, and other pests. We have a couple that would rather paddle around in the ponds and canals but I don't have to worry too much about that since we've kept all the gators out.

And speaking of gators we must be in the middle of some kind of population explosion. Or maybe all the city noise is gone so that I can actually hear them but honestly, as much as I like nature and I've been learning to coexist with it more and more, I'm getting a little tired of listening to the mating growls of gator boys looking for gator girls to make gator babies with. I suspect we are going to need to be very careful once all of those nests start hatching. In a season or two there'll be more gators that people around here if we don't watch it.

And one bite-y thing leads to another; OSAG lost one of their calves and one of their dogs overnight. It was a big cat by the tracks that it left. Phillip is fit to be tied. The calf was the one that he was growing special for beef later in the year. The loss of the dog wasn't pleasant for anyone either. At night they keep their animals in the track stadium but they may have to turn one of the buildings into a barn and bring them in as the sun goes down. Their loss is a lesson to us all.

Aldea has also reported signs of big cats nearer their living quarters than they are happy with. They have vertical walls made of metal so the cats won't climb that way, but they have even more trees than we do. That means that they are going to have to cut trees back even further and that's going to take away some of their camouflage; but there really is no choice.

Scott has been worrying about that here in Sanctuary. They found some sign on the outside of the pasture enclosure that something has been digging. That's probably the hyenas or maybe other feral dogs. The way the footings and foundations were done out there nothing may ever come of such activity but we can't afford to bet on that. Scott had the kids … all of them taking turns except for the very youngest … helping to pound in some scrap metal and posts into the ground to dissuade diggers. We used an auger attachment on the three point hitch of the tractor so while the work is hard it's not completely brutal.

He did get some lip from a couple of the older kids that came from Cheval; seems that they objected to "going from one slave owner to another." Scott, who cannot abide disrespectful and mouthy kids, told them if they wanted to eat then they would work just like everyone else including him. Scott wasn't exactly standing around doing nothing when the two boys started mouthing off. When those two boys pushed as far as they could they lost their lunch privilege. Nana wasn't too thrilled but it's either set the rules now or have problems later. Kids are beginning to outnumber adults around here and that's getting to be more of a problem than not. Of course there may be a solution to that and I'll come to it in a bit.

Dix, Bob, Samuel, J. Paul, Clay Jr., some of the young bucks from Aldea, and a few folks from OSAG took trailers and went back over to Citrus Park mall right after day break to gather up what they could. Another wall had collapsed on the building overnight and while it did prevent them from going after some of the stuff that had been stored there, Cooper assured them that they probably got most of the food except what was stored in the house that Austin had gotten hung up in with the zombies, that stuff was poisoned anyway.

They also dismantled and took the big diesel generator from the outpost and rolled up what fencing and concertina wire that they could and hauled that back. Most of that stuff was split between OSAG and Aldea as Sanctuary has enough fencing stored in the storage containers to last for a while. The diesel generator went to Aldea for their big rice field irrigation set up. Every member of the Triune will eventually benefit from that so there wasn't much debate on the subject. OSAG has all the generators they scavenged from around campus and we have the steam engines from the fairgrounds that Bob is trying to get up and running, not to mention here in Sanctuary we are really trying to get away from being liquid fuel dependent … or maybe that should be petroleum fuel dependent. There is nothing else that will give you the same bang for your buck as petroleum products but they aren't a homegrown product in this neck of the woods so we have to make do.

While Scott was working on the Wall reinforcing our security measures yet again I spent more time in the garden; it's getting to be a huge chore every day. Today was beans … pole beans to be exact and as much as I love my Kentucky Wonders if they don't stop producing I may just have to sit down and have a nervous breakdown. Actually that is an exaggeration in the extreme, I'm just getting tired is all and certain times of the month I'm given to a little melodrama. Like Scott says, if I bleed off my boiler a little at a time I'm less prone to exploding.

Yesterday it was Roma tomatoes and I made a bunch of sauces and stuff again. I also have a lovely bunch of sundried tomatoes going. Today it was dirt under my fingernails from pulling beans. And we are seeing our first potatoes as well. These are Yukon Gold potatoes to be exact and to celebrate we had baked potatoes with dinner instead of bread. I've already harvested more than 200 lbs. from the field and I haven't even finished the row I was working on. I left the peel on the ones we didn't use today and sliced them and put them in the Drying Oven. Given our weather I'm not sure how we are going to store fresh potatoes and the vermin will get to them if we aren't careful.

I have to tell you that digging potatoes by hand is doggone hard work. I'd forgotten as the last few years I'd been growing them in containers that I could just tip over when I was ready to get at the potatoes. I was taking a break, trying to cool off, when the Wall guard notified us of approaching vehicles. They weren't ours, we knew that right off – no trailers.

They were a military patrol in the area. Real military, not people playing at it and not NRSC troopers. Seems that the raids we made on the ZKK gang was actually big enough news to draw their attention. They first investigated the tire fire in Grant Park and some people in the neighborhood gave them our address. Wonderful. We don't have an insignia so I have no idea how they knew who pulled it off. Dix said it probably that they weren't told it was us exactly but that their intelligence unit put two and two together and we were the most likely candidate in the area that fit the general description of the tactics and equipment used.

The ZKK are known to the military patrols as naughty boys and girls but since they'd never acted overtly against the military and because the military, much like us, have to pick and choose their battles. They'd not done anything about them beyond warnings. Of course, the officer in charge of the patrol blah, blah, blah'd a bit as well as yada, yada, yada'd but then he said, of course IF this just happens to make the area a safer place he was sure that everyone would welcome it. Wink, wink; nudge, nudge. In other words they couldn't put their seal of approval on it but they weren't exactly sad about what happened to the ZKK folks either.

They wanted to know what we'd found when we'd made the raids and McElroy told the truth without incriminating us saying that the outposts were pretty well destroyed in the raids and didn't hold anything that we'd find valuable and that their own people had probably taken whatever was left over. They asked about weaponry and we volunteered that they had guns but apparently ammo was doled out only a little at a time and once the zombies started coming a lot of people ran out of ammo including us.

They sucked on that a little but it's one of the things that you just don't come out and tell someone they are lying about. It was the truth … just not necessarily the whole truth. They new it, we knew it, but it was basically a stalemate that the military guys weren't all that interested in breaking. All they asked was that if we heard anything else about where the ZKK was getting their ammo and fuel supplies they would take it as a favor if we would pass the info along.

After seeing all of the kids, the officer in charge also mentioned that there was an effort underway to set up "orphan trains." They were being modeled on the social experiment that ran from the later half of the 1800s to the early 1900s. We'll give it a day or two and see how hard it is going to be absorb all the kids and also give the kids a chance to integrate. If it doesn't seem to be working we'll see about placing them at Aldea or OSAG and if not those two places then we'll give them a chance to decide for themselves … the older ones anyway. I still haven't had a chance to get to know them much. Scott, normally really good with kids, is being rubbed the wrong way by a couple of them, especially the two boys that mouthed off at him this morning. I suspect those are two of the group that Nana considered the "hellions."

I'm beginning to realize that Brandon did quite a bit of work that we took for granted. Iggy was over looking for a book in the library and hadn't a clue where to begin. I showed him the system Brandon set up … a modified version of the Dewey Decimal System … and when we couldn't find it there we looked in the stacks of books that still needed reshelving. Sure enough there it was. We looked though stuff and it was amazing how much he had accomplished under the circumstances. And now he's gone.

I heard from Scott that Dante' doesn't want to go back to Aldea. Not because he holds anything against Matlock or anyone else there, but because he doesn't feel that he and Tina can get along well enough right now not to cause everyone else stress. He's going to go back in a couple of days, as soon as Ski and Iggy clear him for traveling, explain to his son about what things are going to be like for a bit then he and someone else will take Tom back to his place and when he gets back, if he still is of the same mind he's going to move into the library and resume his former job of keeping records and inventory for Sanctuary.

How permanent this arrangement is going to be is unknown at this time. It's kind of sad, but some time away from each other might be what Dante' and Tina need. Dante' said he didn't like the man he had become, but he hasn't particularly liked Tina either. He resents how she took Laura's illness and death even though logically he knows part of that was the result of her attack and injuries. He's trying really hard not to be selfish but at the same time resents being the one to have to make all of the concessions. My problem is that I can see both sides. Scott and I are both pigheaded but I hope that when the chips are down that we would be able to overcome that, for the kids if not initially for each other. I guess only time will tell where this goes.

Before I close out today's journal entry I have to brag on myself just a bit. Dinner was fantabulous. OK, maybe not as good as some of the stuff that Phillip puts on the table over at OSAG, him being a classically trained chef and all, but then again I've never aspired to that kind of cooking. I stick with the basics … southern style, Spanish, and Saen has even taught me some Thai and Asian dishes that I'm using pretty regularly now.

Tonight I tried to accomplish two things and I think I did both rather well. During the inventory I did of the Storehouse I found stuff that needs to be put into our food rotation like yesterday. A good bit of that is a bunch of canned seafood items. So, I took out my handy-dandy recipe book and made up stuff using canned seafood instead of fresh. Our dinner menu was:

First Course – Spicy Oyster Chowder; garden salad

Entrées – Fried Calamari; Claims Casino; Golden Fried Oysters; Deviled Crab; Baked Scallops

Side Dishes – Asian Slaw; baked potatoes, steamed green beans

Dessert – Fried Pineapple Rings; homemade ice cream

What was so cool is that all hardly anyone could tell the stuff came out of cans. I've got the recipes written out and I'll have to remember to drop them in my journal another day. I'm just too tired now and Scott keeps asking when I'm going to finally turn the lamp out and come to bed.


	216. Day 255

_**Day 255 (Thursday) – April 12**_

The days are definitely growing warmer and longer. Of course you could then say that only gives us more time to work up a sweat. In truth, the longer days are welcome but the extra work that goes along with them is just par for the course I suppose. Longer days also gives us more time to think and on some subjects that's not necessarily a good thing. I had to have a sit down in the library and cry for poor Brandon which led to Josephine as well. Oh my Lord they were too young for what happened to them. What am I saying? It shouldn't have happened to anyone of any age. Took me a while but I got my emotions under control and went back to work. There's always work to get back to.

We've got another market day tentatively set for about ten days from now. That ought to be about right. It will be a Monday and it will give our two resident crazies time to get home and healed up. They better get healed up before they try traveling or they're going to need more time than they expect when I get through with them. Men. Honestly. The rest of our people should at least be recovering if not completely recovered by then as well.

You know, I have come to the conclusion that I'm out of the wherewithal to deal with people's drama and personal issues. For instance, the latest craze on the radio is where some social workers have gotten together and started doing "call ins" trying to help people. Not that I don't think that is a very good idea because it is. I imagine it is unusual for people not to have something that would be worth talking to a counselor about these days. But I just don't have the stomach for a constant diet of that stuff. I need to be able to get away from it; too much of it and I can't keep my own self on target and balanced.

I didn't like "reality" shows when there was still television to watch. I never could get into soap operas. People who were drama king and queens wore my patience thin real fast. Passive aggressive stuff drives me nuts as does out and out manipulators. People who resort to drugs and alcohol instead of just dealing with their feelings make me want to shake them. People who can't keep their personal crap from bleeding all over the top of my personal crap make me want to dope slap them. I know all of this sounds incredibly selfish on a certain level – even violent – but I'm trying to be honest in this journal. I'm not perfect and I sure as heck am not even close to being saintly though I've got goals and beliefs that I strive to meet and attain. Any day of the week I'd rather deal with someone who just blows up and has done with it rather than with someone who buries it deep but keeps digging it up forever. And what even makes it look worse is I worked in a mental health facility for a decade. I don't lack compassion, it's just my compassion seems to be all allocated already these days.

Scott is one of those guys who will get angry and then get over it. When we were younger the explosions could be nuclear in proportion but age and wisdom has taught him to redirect his energy. Me, I make the mistake of keeping it inside too much and then it gets to me … I either have a melt down or it affects my health. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Nothing constructive gets done that way. I'm not saying you have to talk every little thing to death but there isn't anything wrong with being proactive about a problem either.

But when it comes down to it, right now I'm just all used up dealing with what I've already got on my plate. I have Scott, our five biological kids, and David; we've adopted Bubby, Sis, and Kitty; then we took on Charlene, Kelly, and little Al; and now Maddie needs me too. I just don't have enough of me to add any more kids. That's why I'm secretly grateful (bad Momma Hen, bad, bad, bad) that Tristan is so intent on raising his little brother and sister himself in his own little house. I don't mind helping, I just don't want to be the primary caregiver of another infant and preschooler.

And now everyone is looking at me like I've grown three heads and feel caught between my feelings feeling legitimate and feeling like a monster.

I had a Sissy-sized meltdown today over one of the kids from Cheval. Well, it was actually three of them but it was that boy Baron – or Prince or whatever his name is 'cause I can't remember 'cause I'm still so mad – that I have just had it with.

My kids are not angels or saints. Not a single one of them and Scott and I have gotten sympathetic glances a couple of times over Johnnie and Bubby and the trouble they can get into. But, by and large they don't do it to be bad or mean … they are just good natured but mischievous and that gets them in trouble on occasion. Lately Bubby has been getting into some trouble because he is fighting too much with the other littles but he's generally sorry for it afterwards and accepts his punishment, while not with good grace at least with obedience.

That said, I can sympathize with the trauma the kids from Cheval have gone through. They were treated horribly. The younger ones seem to be transitioning well enough but three of them are really the hellions that Nana called them. The kids all got rewarded for behaviors I would say are bad. Positive reinforcement for bad behavior leads to trouble every time. And the three oldest had gotten to liking being the tough ones, the ones on top, the bullies. And yes, I do know that bullies by and large have self-esteem issues but you can't make excuses for everyone or no one learns the difference between what is acceptable and what is not. There has to be lines you don't cross and consequences if you do.

I had finished up some of my work more quickly than I expected and was in a good mood. A couple of days ago I had caged off two of the prettiest watermelons in the whole patch so that varmints wouldn't get to them and they could get bigger and sweeter. I was thinking that they must have been ready and we could all have watermelon for dessert tonight.

What do I find when I go out to the watermelon patch? Nothing. The cages had been removed (and I had those puppies staked down really good because of the smart raccoons around here) and the melons were gone and the vines ripped right up out of the ground meaning that the rest of the melons that were still green were likely going to die. Other vines had been trampled on and just generally there was a mess that if I'm honest hurt my feelings because of all the work I had put into things.

Oh I was hacked and I had in mind to find me some 'coons and scare the masks off of them with the dogs. But then from a stand of trees about 50 yards from the garden I heard giggling, chomping, and slurping. I'm thinking, "Oh no they did not." Honestly I thought maybe the younger kids had snuck a melon 'cause they had been begging for one. I really expected to find Johnnie and Bubby in the middle of whoever it was.

Well, it wasn't; it was those three hellions. Baron is the leader and he claims he's 12 but Nana said she is pretty sure he is 10 or 11. The girl's name is Tippy or Muffy or something puking cute like that who's about the same age and then there is a skinny younger boy of 8 or 9 who is Baron's sidekick and "yes man."

Well, they jump a mile off of the ground when they see me standing there. I'm not even going to record the whole conversation. Hearing those kinds of words coming out of the mouths of kids that young turns my stomach. Bottom line is "it was just laying there and didn't belong to nobody 'cause it didn't have a sign on it" snort, snort, giggle, giggle.

I was already seething and then I just about popped a cork because what do I see that they are cutting the watermelon with? My machete! When I asked them where they got it they said, "oh it was just laying on the ground so they picked it up."

I told them Bull. For a fact I know that machete was hanging on my own bedpost about two hours before because I had taken it inside and put it away so I move some stuff around in the Cooler with it constantly getting hung up on the shelving in there. So I call 'em on it and they say I'm the one that is lying. Grrrrrr. I felt myself starting to lose it at that point but thought I still had control enough that I didn't need to go get another adult. I told them unlike the watermelon my name was on the machete. And it is too because Scott engraved it on there as a funny kind of joke with lots of curlicues, flowers, and stuff.

I go to take it and the kid actually has the nerve to say "finder's keepers." OK, now here is where I lost my temper. I told him to give me the machete that moment. I didn't threaten him in any way except by my voice and the unspoken part of if he didn't give me the machete things were going to be a whole lot worse than they already were.

The little snot had the gall to raise my own weapon and threaten me with it! So I lost it. I grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the machete and turned the blade away from both of us. The eight year old then tries to tackle me but come on, I've had five kids; I learned to stay on my feet under the bombardment of rough-housing kids years ago. Then little Miss My-Parents-Didn't-Have-The-Sense-To-Give-Me-A-Real-Name kicked me right in the ankle.

I pushed the 8-year-old down, I slapped the girl hard enough to rock her head back but not enough to do any real harm, and I gave the boy with my machete the wedgy of his life and then rammed my thumbnail under his fingernail because he still wouldn't let go of the machete. That worked and he howled while he finally let go. I then duck walk the kid (using the wedgy as leverage) as he was still fighting me over to the machine shop where the men were congregated shooting the breeze while the other two go screaming and crying to Nana that I was beating on them and was gonna kill Baron. Oh, I felt like tearing a swatch out of his pants with a hickory switch all right but I didn't really feel like killing him. Not really.

I'll just say it out loud, I was pissed. I can guarantee if those kids had been much bigger or older there would have been a real tussle. Basically I was a lying old b**** and that it didn't happen at all like I said it did. Problem is that when the three of them were separated they hadn't had time to come up with a story so none of their answers matched up. When they were shaken down stuff from other people's houses were also found on them and they still denied stealing.

OK, I'll eventually get over them calling me a b****. I'll even get over look how they hurt my feelings by calling me "old"; for goodness sake am I an adult or not? But calling me a liar to my face and in front of everyone like that was just awful and embarrassing. I know these kids have been through hell and back but at some point you'd figure they'd learn that it was a bad idea to bite the hands of the ones that are trying to make it better.

But I'm not going to be the one that is feeding them for a bit. I need some distance. As much as I tried to step back when the kids started on about how they were better off with their "friends" in the gang and how the gang would whip our a**, etc. I opened my mouth and said something I shouldn't have. Scott later told me that just about every one there was thinking it, but I still feel bad for being the one to actually say it. I told them if they liked it so much maybe we just ought to go drop them off at Westshore so they could go back to the way they were living just a couple of days ago. Bloody brilliant on my part because that has the little kids from Cheval all scared now … in general and in specific of me. Didn't make a real good impression on Nana either.

Bottom line is the kids have been put over at Dante' and Tina's old house because it still has the bars on the windows and had been escape-proofed because of Laura. Kind of like a major time out for all of us to figure things out. They are each in separate rooms and they've got a sleeping pad and a bucket toilet and nothing else; but there they will stay until it is decided what to do with them. They have to have consequences but as much as it is hard for us to do we also have to take into account their living conditions and treatment for the last several months.

I just couldn't eat lunch; I was too upset. I was over hiding in the herb garden when I was startled out of my wits by Dora. She had come to see what Dix had to say about them moving to this end of town 'cause the water isn't clearing up in the springs. There is a small barrel of something down in there and it was spilling over into the river until the neighborhood folks sandbagged it and now the water it running into the old drainage system until they can get the barrel out. How long that will take is unknown and it's still too long for Dora who has all those kids of hers to feed and water.

Scott told her where I was and it was nice to sit down and talk to someone that didn't look at me like I was crazy for dealing with the kids the way I did. She said, "Sister, let them walk a mile in your shoes and see what it's like and then they have the right to be judgmental. You think I ain't run into a few kids I couldn't help? Yeah, yeah I have. I don't believe in that 'bad seed' stuff but some kids just natural wanna choose the hard road in life. I was like that. Couldn't no one tell me nothing. I was always right and had all the answers. And when my choices turned out wrong it was never my fault but someone else's."

We talked a little more and then I said I wished I had handled it different and hoped that we can help the kids. She gave me such a look and then said, "Girl ain't you ever heard 'wish or hope in one hand and s*** in the other and see which one weighs the most.'? You can wish and hope all you want but those kids aren't going to change until they decide to and for that they are going to need reasons to change. If you don't dole out some consequences then they are just going to keep on being how they are now because they don't have any reason to change."

I had to laugh a little 'cause I had heard that particular phrase a few times growing up. Then she continued, "As for the rest, you did do something; you got them away from that gang. Those so called friends of theirs would have eventually killed 'em over something. I lost a couple of the kids I was watching to the ZKK and they were dead in days … not weeks honey, days. And look at it like this, maybe you ain't meant to be the one to help 'em. I heard about them orphan trains. I gotta girl with me now that can't keep her pants up and I don't have the hours in the day to watch her over it. As soon as I make sure they are on the up and up and where the kids are supposed to wind up, I'll likely be sending her off. And I'll be praying that whoever takes her next can do what I can't seem to."

Dora is an earthy soul and she makes a lot of home grown sense. I just hope that I can deal with the consequences of my own actions. To start on that, after Dora had left, I went over to Nana's place and had a talk with her and with her permission I sat on the floor with the little ones that were all subdued in my presence. I tried to explain to them what had happened in case they hadn't heard and then apologized for giving any one the idea that I thought it was acceptable to give them back to the gang. Being angry and hurt didn't mean that I should have been nasty about it. One of the little boys let me pick him up and put him in my lap. I explained that I hoped that we could all get along but that there were rules. And that the rules were there for a reason. In simple language I tried to explain to them that because their friends had been selfish no one was going to get watermelon for dessert tonight and if I couldn't fix the damage to the rest of the plants we might never have watermelon again because not only did I need to grow the watermelons to feed everyone with I had to save the seeds to grow more watermelons next time.

I also explained that it was wrong for anyone to go into someone else's house without permission whether the doors were unlocked or not. They wouldn't want anyone taking their new clothes and shoes and stuff that we had given them and I'm sure they understood that everyone else didn't want to have their stuff taken from them either.

Later I told Scott that I think Nana is still pretty stiff with me. He said, "I can live with that. If she's going to make too many excuses for bad behavior rather than instill good behavior maybe we ought to rethink her being in charge of the preschoolers. We only have her word on what she did pre-NRS. Bubby is already close enough – and Johnnie right behind him – to being in constant trouble, we don't need to open the door wide open and stand back and let it get worse. " That's Scott, my loveable but suspicious teddy bear; always on my side but full of commonsense too.

When I asked who had gotten the kids dinner he said, "You mean did the kids get dinner tonight? Yes, so stop worrying about it. They didn't do themselves any favors by throwing a fit and pitching it at their doors. After they saw they weren't getting any more where that came from they picked it up and ate it. Dante' volunteered to watch them tonight and give us all some space. You've likely heard their cussing and swearing and then crying so pitiful and then going back to cussing and swearing when the pitiful act didn't get them their way. I swear, not all of that could have been picked up from their time with the ZKKers."

I'm not sure Dante' watching those kids is a good idea; for him or the kids. Does he feel sorry for them? Does the situation remind him of Laura? Scott could see I was starting on a worrying project so he told me to let it go, the men were satisfied that he'd do the job as well as anyone else and he volunteered. Scott thought it might even be good for him. I sure hope "the men" are right.

I feel like I haven't been very productive today. Everything I tried to do after this morning feels tainted. I didn't even feel like going to the dining hall to eat so Scott brought something back for me while I sat with James and kept him company. Honestly, James and Scott are two peas in a pod because my son looked me in the eye and told me, "Mom, stop feeling sorry about it. I would have probably hurt the kid if he had pulled that with me. I'm actually a little angry they didn't make more of the little snot turning a weapon on you."

I got some hugs and kisses from the rest of my kids too. It's comforting to know that in my own house at least people accept me even if they don't necessarily totally agree with me. Rose, bless her 'cause she did give me a hug before saying this, wondered as idealistically as always if we could do something to prove we weren't out to hurt them so that they didn't feel the need to steal from other people or misbehave. Lord I love her, but sometimes I wonder whose genes she inherited.

I think one of the most meaningful things came from Charlene however. We were sitting on the lanai trying to catch what little bit of breeze there was while she helped me to braid some cayenne peppers into a wreath when she said, "Some people can't always help the way they act. Some people can. It's not always easy to tell the two apart. But whether they can help it or not, the same rules have to apply all the time or you wind up with chaos. King Al was sick a lot and when he was sick we used to make all sorts of allowances and excuses for what he did when he was sick. But doing that didn't make him any less sick and sometimes it made the sickness last longer 'cause he didn't have any reason to try and not act sick anymore. One time after he'd had a really bad turn and had broken a lot of stuff he asked why someone hadn't stopped him or called the cops. I said because he was sick when he did it and the cops would have put him in jail and that wouldn't have been fair. He told me, 'Princess, life isn't fair. Rules are there for a reason. Not because they are always fair to everyone but because they set what is right and what is wrong. You start messing around with your definition of what right and wrong is and you'll wind up as crazy as me.'"

Pretty smart for a crazy man. And even smarter for a 16 year old girl to know that she could share one of her precious memories and I would understand how she meant it.

Life isn't fair. It wasn't fair pre-NRS and it's not going to be fair when all of this mess is behind us, assuming it ever is. All we can do is what we can do. And I'm just going to have to admit to myself – and everyone else too – that right now I'm doing all I can.


	217. Day 256

_**Day 256 (Friday) – April 13 – Cleaning Day**_

Things went a tad better today; not great, but better. We've got our own version of juvie hall going right now. I'm amazed … I mean I'm really amazed. Dante' has been incredible with those kids. He hasn't lost his temper (and trust me they've given him plenty of reason to). I don't think he's even raised his voice at them. I could not have done it and Scott says he wouldn't have done it.

The boy, the one called Baron, has torn up the room he is in. He tried to bust out the windows but after Laura got through with the place Scott had changed the windows in that room out with that thick, heavy duty plexiglass stuff set in heavy duty frames that we took off some office complex for that purpose. He tried to put holes in the wall too but Scott never did replace those walls with drywall and instead he troweled this "spray-crete" kind of stuff onto the walls. The two walls that he did have to rebuild he attached hardie board to the studs instead of regular drywall. That stuff is better than concrete board and is so durable it can even be used as house siding. Not to say the kid didn't cause some damage 'cause nothing is indestructible, but he ran out of steam before he could do any catastrophic damage and that was the point of why Scott had remodeled things the way he had in the first place.

The girl … and her name really is Muffy if you can believe that … mostly just kicked the door and then pouted and cried when she didn't get her way. But again, Scott had remodeled Dante' and Tina's house with Laura in mind and the doors were all solid with keyed bolts on both sides rather than door knobs and he used two by fours rather than trim to frame the door out. And the frames were screwed into the studs rather than just nailed in.

I still don't know what the 8 year old kid's name is. I'm trying to stay out of it for now. Not neutral but just away, out of it … I've got my opinions but I don't want to be seen as trying to unduly influence things behind the scene. That may seem like a lame excuse or cop out but it's how I feel. And so far it's working, at least from my point of view. The kids are all still in solitary but I think they are beginning to wind down. With no reinforcement and attention they don't have a lot of directions to go. When Dante' found that the kids were still socializing under the doors and through the open windows he moved them around leaving Baron in the room he'd already tried to wreck, and putting Muffy and the younger kid on the other end of the house on opposite sides from each other.

While he is over there watching them Dante' spends his going over all of Brandon's records and files to see where he was at with keeping track of things, what he was tracking, how often he updated, and making a list of things that seem to be missing. As sorry as I am for the reason Dante' is back in Sanctuary, I'm not sorry that I'm not the one that is going to have to pick up where Brandon left off. I told him that I had inventoried the Storehouse and how we were tracking additions and subtractions from there and he said then the next major task would be to finally finish trying to reorganize and inventory what is still in the storage containers that make up the Wall. Truthfully I just can't remember what is where in those things any more if it's not in the clothing, shoes, or undergarments containers.

Patricia has said she is anxious to help again now that the baby has been born, but Ski says that's gonna have to wait until she and the baby are completely healed. That's the old Patricia peeking out … wanting to get back to work. I know right now it is bravado, a side effect of having both she and the baby surviving after her chances had gotten considerably slimmer. Given time however I'm sure she will want to get back into the swing of things; she's just like that and her energy level is already going up despite having an infant that wakes her up every hour for feeding.

It gives me hope that everything is going to be OK for her and her wee one. Jack is a hoot, prancing this way and that and amazed at everything the baby does. I think those two will make it and it gives me hope for other things too.

There also appears to be hope for the 8 year old hellion as he is already starting to break off from Baron's influence. He's just a go-along and Baron was his "protector" though he really just used the kid as a henchman if you can visualize younger kids doing that. Dix has been over there at least once today to talk to each of the kids; whatever his conclusion they are all three still there tonight.

And speaking of delinquents ….

I really didn't go into details yesterday but Angus and Jim opted to try and come home early. Unless things go even more calliwumpus than they have they should be home tomorrow in the late afternoon I think. They found a truck/horse trailer set up and they are also bringing that girl with them; the one that just had the baby. She doesn't have any family and there are no women over that way that she can go to. I guess the guys felt some responsibility to keep an eye on her until her family can be located.

That will give us three infants and Iggy is already planning out their vaccines and stuff from the supplies we have left. Rhonda's baby boy, Patricia's baby girl, and now this girl and her baby; it's been just about 8 or 9 months which should make it about right for a new "baby boom." I figured the next three or four months will be interesting for a lot of people. Certainly within the next 12 months we should see the same kind of phenomena as when soldier boys come home from war and without widespread birth control things are gonna get complicated for some folks that formerly could do what they wanted with no strings attached. On the other hand, I am sorry to suspect that all the old issues with infant-mother mortality will come back as well. We'll just have to see.

You know, that gets me to thinking … I wonder when Glenn and Saen are gonna get caught. I don't think they are against it, but I do think Glenn might be afraid for Saen as there is such a size differential between the two of them. Glenn is six feet something to Saen's lucky to be five feet. But women used to routinely be Saen's size; I think it is more a matter of her hips than her height and as far as I can tell … not that I've exactly been worrying over this or anything … she should be OK. There are ways to induce naturally if the baby is getting too big and she's far enough along. And what about Austin and his Sarah? Wouldn't that be a hoot? We need to get Brian a girlfriend and then the four of them can be aunts and uncles to each other's' kids. Oh boy, wouldn't they have a fit if they knew I was planning their lives for them like I'm somebody's grandma.

But back to Angus and Jim; they are still hurting and moving slow and that is why it is taking two days for them to get back even with a vehicle. I figure once they are home it will be a while before they are back to 100%. I don't think they were exactly being foolish to do what they did but I could wish our men would be a little more careful of their personal health and safety. We don't exactly have access to a lot hospitalization and specialists these days. One of these days all of this damage we are doing to ourselves is going to add up and come due in a big payment. There was a reason that the life expectancy only rose significantly in the latter half of the 1900s and into the 2000s.

I've been trying to keep everyone's health in mind when we do menu planning and garden planning. That's not always easy because we are limited to what we have on hand and what we can produce ourselves. It won't be long before we are out of vitamins as well; with everyone taking one a day since nearly the beginning we've gone through an amazing number of bottles of vitamins for both adults and children. From here on out it's going to be all on us. Note to self: vitamin bottles are great to recycle for my dried herbs. Those child proof lids mean I don't have to worry about the kids getting into the really strong ones and making themselves sick.

Hunting is still slim pickings. All the big predators in the area are taking their share of the already thinned down populations of game. Between other people hunting and the damage that the Hive did we are going to have to start resorting to our own domestic stock more to keep us in meat. We've got a lot of chickens but we've lost some to predators … to hawks, raccoons, and the like. The goats and cows we are trying to wait until we have a bigger herd so that we don't wind up with the problem of inbreeding. The goats are breeding faster than the cows are but I wouldn't mind trading some billies around to increase the gene pool.

Same with the pigs; the domesticated hogs and the wild boars we've brought in are making their own sounders (family groups) and are crossbreeding. That's a good thing because they are promiscuous and hopefully we will have quite a herd come this winter and can get a lot of hams, other cuts, and sausage for the smokehouse.

It takes a lot to keep the animals fed however so we are never going to be able to get passed a certain population of domestic stock since we no longer have access to commercially grown animal feed. We are cutting grass from all over and bringing it in for them to help. It's a toss-up where our garden scraps go. We need it for the livestock but we also need it for the compost pile. A couple of more months and the first humanure piles will be ready which will help with garden compost and we are composting the animal manure so I'll likely continue to give the green garden scraps to the animals and use weeds and grass cuttings for the green in the compost piles. I swear, less than a year ago I never would have thought about stuff like this and here it is that my life and the lives of my family and friends require that I think like this.

I do feel good about all the cleaning I accomplished today. All of our kids participate in cleaning and so too did the Cheval kids (except for the three in "solitary"). Some of the men put bunk beds together in one of the empty houses and Nana will live there with them as their primary caregiver. As they get older and bigger we'll be faced with new challenges but so far we are getting by.

Pulled the first fresh ears of corn today so that might be what has me in such a good mood. We grilled up enough so that everyone could have corn on the cob for dinner. Glory it was soooo good; you almost didn't need salt and butter. Now the ears weren't as pretty as the ones you could get frozen at the store in times past but that's to be expected. The taste however was a hundred times better. Nothing quite like the taste of fresh from the field corn on the cob. Even Scott had some though he was careful to chew it up really, really well. His guts still get into a not when he eats too much of the things he isn't supposed to eat.

Tomorrow we are going to pick several bushels worth and can some corn. I noticed that some of the cobs on the corn are red. I'm saving those and I'm going to try and make some corn cob syrup and corn cob jelly with those. I got laughed at a little when I told everyone, but they won't be laughing if I can pull it off. That's some good stuff though a pain in the tush to make. You have to boil the cobs forever to get the juice out of them.

I'm a little more concerned to see whether we can get some of the corn to dry correctly and then get it milled so that we can have corn meal and corn flour. The wheat flour is really getting low now. Scott keeps talking about trying to make a run north and I keep ignoring his hints and coming up with ways to make do so that he doesn't have to go north. I don't even want to think about the risks he would be taking by going.

Bob has not one but two of the steam engines going now. My word those things are loud! But they work and that's what counts. Scott said the smaller one can be easily hooked back up to the milling stones like it was at the fairgrounds. That will be cool beans right there. The bigger one can be used for lots of stuff. There is another set up that Scott is anxious to put together now that he's sure he knows what he is doing. It's like this big sawmill kind of thing. He say's depending on the setting and blades you hook up you can cut wood into board lengths and then plane them so that they have a decent finish and corners on them. He wants to take down some of the trees in the surrounding area and get them cut and have them seasoning so that we don't have to use green wood for building projects or for the fire.

Bob is so funny. After all the original hoopla it is now a joke when I make the coffee. He wants to know whether I've doctored the coffee or not. He is also the guinea pig for when I try and come up with coffee alternatives. Let's see, dandelion roots that were dried, roasted, and then sent through a coffee maker. Mixing part real coffee and part chicory (which is what Dante' likes 'cause he's Cajun I guess). Roasting dried peas and corn together then grinding and putting through the coffee maker (something that was done during the first US Civil War). I'm working on some others as well.

The following is one that I came up with that kind of looks like coffee, even tastes a bit like coffee, but doesn't have the same kick unfortunately and that's what our caffeine-aholics are looking for.

 **Coffee Substitute  
**  
2 cups water  
1 tablespoon roasted chicory root  
1 tablespoon dried dandelion root (not roasted)  
1/2 teaspoon cardamom seed (should be out of the husk, but not ground)

Looking through my books I found three other natural sources of caffeine that I need to investigate. First is guarana, then yerba, and lastly the kola nut. I know for a fact that there is – or was – some yerba growing at the USF botanical garden and also at Lowry park zoo. I also know that some Kola plants were growing in Busch Gardens to go with one of the African exhibits. Guarana is a Brazilian plant and I have absolutely no clue right now where I might be able to find some to cultivate. I'll think on it but Scott (and Bob) has already promised to take me over to Lowry and Busch to try and dig some of the other two up to cultivate. Hmmm, I wonder if that kola nut thing would make a Koka-Kola … I miss soda as bad as the guys miss their coffee.


	218. Day 257

_**Day 257 (Saturday) – April 14**_

Today should have been a baking day but with 15 new mouths to feed we are really cutting back on breads and baked goods. I'll confess I'm getting a little worried. We've got some whole grains left. It looks look like we'll have a decent corn crop but out of that I've got to take seed for next season's crop and feed for the animals. I don't know how much that will leave for milling or how much what is milled will make.

Saen, who went back to Aldea for the day to check on things, said the rice is looking good. Rice and corn though don't have the gluten of wheat.

I hope to have a rye crop but that's still not wheat. Oy! It makes my head hurt but I'll figure out how to make do somehow. If the pioneers managed then we should be able to. I honestly don't see that I've got much choice. Even if … and for now I'm totally against this … we send a team north, we don't know for sure whether they will have wheat up there either.

I was making my daily circuit of the gardens, noting what needed harvesting or tending, when I overheard gruff Mr. Morris say, "Ya gots ta stop coddling them kids Winnie. They's gonna have to learn just like the rest of the schoolyard full we already go running around here."

"But they've been through so much …"

"You don't think our'uns have been through a lot?! Times 'r rough all around ol' gal. They either learn or they's gonna hafta find a new home."

"Or surely not. They wouldn't kick them out? They're so young!"

"And weren't we young when we had ta learn?"

"But that was different. We're modern … "

"Look around ya Winnie. We ain't modern no more. Fer God's sake woman, they's using old Roman stuff to defend our place here. We's using steam engines and stuff that was old-fashioned even when I was knee high to a grasshopper."

"But things will get better … "

"Pity's sake woman, the only way they're gonna git better is if everyone works their butt off ta make it better. That includes them kids. We all gots ta work ta eat. Every slap dab one of us. And you better tell them hellions that this ain't something they can get around. I don't think none of the folks around here will beat 'em but they won't put up with their crap for long either. We gots too many kids here already that need us to be strong. They'll pitch the apple out before they'll let it ruin the whole barrel. And I know you know what I mean and why I'm saying it."

"Oh Paul, I just can't bear the thought … "

"Well, you better learn to. Stiffen yore spine Winnie. It ain't being done to be cruel. It's being done to save as many as can be. The younger boy seems salvageable but them other two better start figuring things out real fast. They's endangering us all. It cain't be allowed ter continue."

"That Sissy is behind some of this. She is just so rough with the children and makes them work so hard."

"Aw, don't go blaming her. You see that houseful she has? Only about half of them are hers by birth. And she don't play fav'rites neither. She's treated my grandkids the same way she treats her own kids. You ain't been here long enough to judge. Maybe she ain't yer soft spoken type women but she ain't bad. You seen how them kids mind her? They's a reason for that. And she's freer with the hugs and kisses than she is with the smacks on the bottom. I'm telling you the truth Winnie, had Baron raised that machete at most of the other folks around here, he might've found hisself a lot worse off. Least thisaway he's got a chance to mend his ways. And in the old days them children woulda been beat for thieving … or maybe a whole lot worse. It's like they ain't got no sense. They's gonna hafta fall in line or they's gonna hafta go."

Ugh. I'd heard enough and left them to their discussion. It was keeping Mr. Morris from finishing the next honey harvest but I hope he can reach her on this. I don't want to kick the kids to the curb and send them out into this world on their own – well, for a lot of reasons – but on the other hand Mr. Morris is right, the status quo can't continue. Either those kids are going to learn to get a long and share the labor or we're going to have to figure something else out. And it's going to have to be sooner rather than later.

I did lose seventy percent of the watermelon vines in the particular patch that was damaged but I have other places I've planted and today I got a bunch of melons from a patch I have at the opposite end of Sanctuary. I got a couple of Georgia Rattlesnakes (those are the big ones with the distinct diamond shape that you'll find in the deep south at the fruit stands), and then several of my Moon and Stars came in. I didn't realize it until after we had cut them open for dinner that I had some yellow-fleshed ones in there. I hadn't had yellow watermelon since I was a little girl. Lordy it was soooo good. The seeds are heirloom so I have high hopes that they'll breed true later on down the road.

James was up and around today and David went back on guard duty but only as a watchman and not a dog handler. The dogs would still be too much for his arm to handle. Both David and James were just about bored out of their skulls since there wasn't much that Ski was letting them do. Scott told Dix he was going to go say high to the Koreans and see how they were doing and see about getting some fishing in. Bob and Iggy were over at Aldea for the day so Scott decided to use the day outside the machine shop.

They made a group of it. Scott, David, James, Johnny, Bubby, Al, Conrad and his son Roddy, Cooper, and then Scott surprise me by taking the eight year old hellion … only Scott says so long as he has someone shadowing him and redirecting him he really isn't that much of a hellion. Oh, and the kids name is Padric. Baron (whose real name is apparently Bradley according to P), Muffy (yeah, that's that poor child's real name) and Padric all knew each other before. Baron's father was the president of the homeowner's association in their subdivision. The kids were all put together in the clubhouse when the zombies came. Then the army came and took them to some kind of camp, Padric isn't certain of the timeline. After that the leadership changed a lot and their parents never came to get them like they promised and then the ZKK people showed up. Apparently the ZKKers were nice in the beginning but then the leaders changed and people started treating them different after a while.

I'd never thought about that possibility before. Maybe the ZKKers were a good force in the beginning but then something changed … leadership, attitude, circumstances, etc. That has given us something to think about. But, it still wouldn't change how we've interacted with them up to this point.

The guys brought home enough fish that I made fish cakes to go with dinner tonight. Blackened fish cakes and fresh from the garden veggies with watermelon for dessert; not bad, not bad at all.

It was funny, Padric was allowed to come to the Dining Hall for dinner since he behaved so well during the fishing venture and he stayed right up under James the entire time. James didn't know what on earth to make of it but didn't push the kid off either. He spent about an hour playing checkers with him and the other younger boys before he got tired and needed to go lay down. That was about the time the Padric also needed to go back to Dante's house (he isn't being allowed to go back to the other kids until he can prove he can behave without having to be watched all the time and they still associate him with Baron and Muffy too much to want to have anything to do with him).

Padric started crying when he had to go back to "solitary" and James looked at him and said, "Don't be such a crybaby. You do the crime you do the time. Even Johnnie and Bubby know that. If you prove you can be trusted then you get to do other stuff like all the kids do." Yeah, like James is such an old man. But apparently Padric was listening because he stopped sniveling and went with Dix quietly. I hope this means there is some hope for the boy; he's a little young for me to feel comfortable with simply writing off as a lost cause.

Dante' says that Muffy – and I'm sorry, but any parent that would name their daughter such a name needs to have their head examined – seems to be taking stock of her options as well. He says he talked to her about Laura and that really threw me for a loop. I hope he doesn't see her as a way to make up for Laura or recreate something. I mentioned to Scott and he said Dix had already thought of that which is why Dante' is going to get a caregiver break tomorrow and why Saen is bringing Bo with her when she returns in the morning. Tina still doesn't want to be where Dante' is and I guess we'll have to respect that but Bo needs to spend time with his father and Dante' needs to spend some time with Bo.

And speaking of, with all the kid-flavored problems, I gave in to temptation and called into that mental health broadcast. You can radio questions in privately to those on-air counselors and then they pick a few and answer them during their broadcast.

* * *

 _Good evening everyone._ _This is Don Louis and I'll be moderating this session of_ _Talk To Me_ _._ _Out first situation is one that I'm sure has touched several people in our broadcast area._ _With services for dealing with displaced and troubled children nonexistent there are some good people out there trying to help._ _However, resources are not abundant for any of us and anything that affects our ability to maintain stability and security in our homes must be taken seriously._ _Listen as I read a question from a woman calling herself "Mother Hen."_

 _"_ _Recently my large, extended family has taken in a dozen younger children that were basically being used as slave labor by the group that used to have them._ _We are having some trouble integrating them into our existing group._ _They were badly treated, physically and emotionally, so we expected there to be some adjustments for all of us._ _However, three of the children are proving to be much more troublesome than we expected._ _Bad behavior barely describes it._ _They've stolen, lied, wasted resources, and have been physically threatening._ _Frankly I personally don't feel safe in turning my back on a couple of them and I worry about the disruption they are causing and their influence on the children already living with us._ _What makes this especially difficult is that the worst troublemakers are only 11, 10, and 8 years of age; not exactly of an age to be kicked out on their own."_

 _Well Momma Hen, looks like you and your family have bitten off quite a bit._ _Kudos to you and yours for your good intentions._

 _This is a tough situation._ _From your description it seems that the children_ _have developed a pack mentality, or family structure, based on the eldest being in charge._ _This behavior probably echoes what they were exposed to in their other living arrangements._

 _First and foremost, separation and isolation_.

 _If possible, I'd place them in separate houses and buildings. Keeping them separated in the same house may inspire some ideas of individualization, but to eliminate contact with co-conspirators would leave them to fend for themselves and their survival completely on their own, a rusty skill-set, depending on previous experience._

 _Secondly, put them to work with an organized crew both inside and outside, but again, individually. Take several of the trusted example children, and emphasize good behavior (praise for the good kids) with rewards (5 minutes of free time, a piece of fruit, something desirable) and punishment (loss of free time, more work in the kitchen) to discourage negative behavior._

 _Third, shadowing adults; a good male role model for boys and a good strong female role model for any girls._

 _The youngest may do well shadowing an older teen, if possible._ _Someone that they can learn to look up to but who can also be a friend and not just a disciplinarian figure._

 _If for nothing else, these kids have to realize that their independent personalities do have to change, despite the group participatory environment. In their recent past environment it was take or be taken. In their new environment, they need to learn its keep what you earn within a collective level._

 _They need to be individuals, but they need to see how their individuality can positively impact the entire group and how that magnifies the positive even further._ _They need to recognize and participate in a healthy individual and healthy group survival process; and the rewards for both._

 _Finally however, if the negative behavior continues, I would not hesitate to send one or more to other families in the area._

 _Another option is the orphan trains that are beginning to make the news._ _Another option may be to provide them supplies and then send them on their way, explaining that since they chose to resist all efforts to integrate into your group then by their own actions they left you with no choice._

 _I think that each of these kids can benefit from working hard for what they need, under heavy supervision with understanding that those supervising authorities are not meant to threaten, but hold them accountable to their actions. If for nothing else, it should be understood to them that the Orphan Trains are their current destination, and if they would like to stay, they should do anything and everything to change their attitudes, or simply be a short term guest in your home._

 _I apologize for the apparent brutality of some of these options but that is the reality we face these days._

 _Discipline and accountability are an absolute necessity for a group to succeed._ _These children appear to be unfamiliar these two concepts or are intentionally choosing to ignore them._ _These children will either respond positively or negatively and you cannot force them to choose._ _You can influence them, but not make the final decision for them._

 _We are not setting precedent here; we are actually returning to a time when natural consequences, social stigma, and peer pressure were the means that controlled societies and had far better results._ _Stay tuned._ _After a break our panel will accept calls on tonight's subject._

* * *

I have to take Mr. Louis' credentials on faith but it is interesting to see how his advice intersects with what we are already doing. Now if we could just get Baron to the point he would settle down enough for us to have any meaningful interaction with him. Tomorrow Muffy is going to go to Aldea, at least for the day. She is going to be assigned to the women there and will be working in the rice field primarily from what I understand. We'll have to see how that works out.

Angus and Jim showed up an hour after the sun went down. They could have stopped for the night but they are both so sore that they really did need to find a real bed to sleep in where they didn't have to set a guard all night long.

Whooooo boy does that baby have a good set of lungs on it. I think I knew the girls name but now I've forgotten it again. I never heard what she named the baby or even what sex it was. I'll introduce myself tomorrow. I really didn't get to talk to any of them except Jim. He's fine just very, very sore. Angus though is really hurt. Not enough to deflate him any but he can't really walk to amount to anything. It didn't help that the dogs took one look at him started doing the happy doggie dance and nearly knocked him to the ground. Angus was even too tired to eat which tells me he is in more pain than he is letting on.

Tomorrow Scott says we can see what he needs in particular and if there is anything he wants besides just some peace and quiet. We'll probably have to mine the yard around his living quarters to keep the kids out so he can have a few days to recuperate. Bekah is already bugging me to death about going to see Angus in the morning. I told her not until he gets a good night's rest and feels up to company. I just don't think any of the kids understand how bad off he is. I'm afraid we've all come to think of "Uncle Angus" as somewhat indestructible.

As for our other patients … Dante' continues to improve which is probably a reflection on his mental state and not just his physical one. Brian is fine. He got a mosquito bite right near his injury which tried to get infected but compresses took the swelling and redness down. David and James are on the mend but moving slow. And thank goodness so is Glenn. His fever is completely gone and the incision is beginning to heal cleanly though he is going to have an interesting scar. He sat up for a while today but is still very pale. I'm feeding him fish, egg yolks, and greens to put some extra iron into his diet to offset blood loss. He has also been prescribed a cup of green soup (broth from a soup made of both domesticated and wild greens) to help with this as well.

We hear from OSAG that Hunter is on the mend though the boy now has an incipient cold. Bob said that he'd cart some rose hips and greens over there for me tomorrow. I hope Chad doesn't think I'm stepping on his medical toes. Shorty will know how to handle it diplomatically.

Well, I'm off to bed again. Tomorrow is a rest day but I'm going to be using up all of that watermelon rind by canning some preserves and pickling it tomorrow. I love the results but I always wind up with such a mess to clean up every time I start canning.

* * *

 **Sissy's Notes for Tweens' Current Events Geography Quiz**

1\. How many "zones" is the USA currently broken into and what are they?

 _a. The West Coast Quarantine Zone that currently includes the following states: California, Oregon, and Washington_

 _b. The New England Quarantine Zone that currently includes the following states: Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Vermont_

 _c. The East Coast Quarantine Zone that currently includes the following states: New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware_

 _d. The Western Quarantine Zone that currently includes the following states: Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico_

 _e. The DC Beltway Quarantine Zone: District of Columbia, Virgina, West Virginia, Maryland_

 _f. The Florida Quarantine Zone_

 _g. The Free Zone_

 _h. The Republic of Texas_

 _i. The Alaskan Protected Wilderness_

 _j. The Southern Protected Zone_

 _k. The Pacific Islands Protected Zone (includes the state of Hawaii)_

2\. Parts of what states make up the Free Zone? Which three of these states are currently the most at risk for being removed from Free Zone privileges and why haven't they yet?

 _a. Colorado, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, South Dakota, and Wisconsin_

 _b. The three states that are currently most at risk for losing their privileges are Michigan, Minnesota, and Ohio. The NRSC continues to claim control of the areas so that they can control the grain and corn crops grown in the states as well as the grains that are sitting in the silos around those states._

3\. Parts of what states make up the Southern Protected Zone and why are they "protected" and primarily by whom?

 _a. Alabama_

 _b. Arkansas_

 _c. Georgia_

 _d. Louisiana_

 _e. Mississippi_

 _f. North Carolina_

 _g. South Carolina_

 _h. Tennessee_

 _i. They are "protected" because they the biggest rice and tobacco producing states in the US and have the longest growing seasons outside of Florida, southern Texas, and southern California._

 _j. The area is protected by the US Military and the militia from the Republic of Texas_

4\. Name at least three geographic areas where there are disagreements on boundaries and/or governing.

 _a. The boundaries of the Free Zone are fluid, meaning they can be different from one day to the next depending on zombie incursions_

 _b. The Gulf Coast is administered by the US Military and the Republic of Texas to insure that oil production capacity, though significantly lowered, is protected from further degradation of facilities. The exception to this is the Gulf Coast of Florida because they are a quarantined area. The US military patrols the coast but does not interfere with local communities except in defense of existing military bases._

 _c. The Mississippi River Free Trade Route is administered by the US Military to ensure interstate travel and trade. The one caveat to this is that river piracy and black marketeers have greatly increased in numbers and traders from outside the Free Zone must restrict their trade to a select number of licensed facilities along the river._

 _d. The Alaskan Protected Wilderness has recently been under attack by foreign forces._

 _e. The Appalachian Trade Route operates outside the laws imposed by the Free Zone NRSC_

 _f. The border between San Diego, CA and El Paso, TX is a no man's land controlled primarily by roving gangs and zombies. The military has made repeated attempts to burn both out by bombing only to have more move back in. The Texas-Mexico border has been stabilized since the Governor of Texas and the militia built a wall and enforce zero tolerance laws. Elements from New Mexico and Oklahoma sometimes try to enter Texas from the west and north but given the lenient immigration laws from US citizens, the incursions rarely end in violence if the people are willing to be processed through Texas' quarantine camps and abide by the mandatory militia service requirement for all citizens aged 16 and older (male and female)._


	219. Day 258

_**Day 258 (Sunday) – April 15 – Rest Day**_

Hmmmm. I wouldn't call this truly a restful day but it's been the most "restful" day I've had in a while. The day started out with a nice surprise from Scott. He loaded the complete kit and caboodle of us (our family) and we went to OSAG for a brief service that Hunter put on. He is still shore but his spirits are high. I guess coming out of something like he faced is akin to passing a hard test. He and Steve also seemed to have notched their father/son relationship up to another level. It was really nice to see something so positive come out of something that had a lot of sadness in it for us.

Speaking of changing and growing, James asked if Padric could come with us. When Scott put the question to Dix you could tell he was on the fence about it. Then James said he would take personal responsibility for the boy. Wow. It even made Padric's mouth fall open. Dix got down on Padric's level and asked him if he understood what honor was. When the boy got the concept Dix asked him if he promised on his honor to behave. Between Dix, Scott, and James that boy might stand a chance. David is still reserving judgment which has Rose over compensating and saying "of course we can help the little boy."

Muffy has let everyone know she prefers to be called Fy - pronounced "Fee" – and she is all up under Saen. Lordy, it's Saen this and Saen that. I can't wait to see what Glenn makes of it. Fy was helping in the kitchen when we returned to Sanctuary after the service. It was kind of funny. Everything was like a new experience for her and she ate it up; the attention too.

I wish I could say something as good about Baron. He continues to curse, be hateful, and destructive. He's doing everything he can to just make himself the opposite of what we ask of him. The first big battle of the day with him was when Iggy and Ski declared the boy needed to clean himself. My Lord, what a fuss! The boy smelled. He was just plain nasty. He wouldn't have gagged a maggot but he wasn't too far off from that. It took four grown men to make him bathe. Even they wouldn't have been able to pull it off if Saen and I hadn't finally told the kid that either he bathed himself or we would take scrub brushes to him. When he saw the two of us were dead serious he finally allowed himself to be drug off to the single men's shower area.

Then we tried to have him sit down to lunch with us but it was horrible. At first he refused to eat what was put on his plate, then he ate like a pig at a trough. He was disruptive and called our kids all sorts of names. Then to top it all off he physically threatened Fy and Padric when they wouldn't join his "revolt."

You could tell Fy was scared, but angry at Baron at the same time; ready to fight him if she had to. Sean pitched a fit when she found out; she had been with Glenn during the incident.

Padric was terrified. James would have jerked a knot in Baron's tail if he had been in better shape. He never got the chance. Claire, Sarah, Bo (who was visiting from Aldea), Bekah, Johnnie, Bubbie, and Kelly pulled their sling shots and I have to tell you every adult in the place got real quiet. All the Sanctuary kids from 13 to 5 had had enough of Baron and considered him a threat. Then the other 9 Cheval kids threw their lot in with our kids. Oh my. If Baron had any sense he would have dropped it, you could tell he was scared, but he made the ultimate mistake of telling the kids they better watch their backs.

That snapped the rest of us out of our shock. Dante' and Dix moved first. Dante' grabbed the boy by the scruff of his and dragged him back to his house. Dix just followed and watched as Dante' shook him a few times to keep him going in the right direction.

Iggy had a pensive look on his face, sighed, and then followed the two men. See the thing is I can tell the difference between the way Laura acted and how Baron is acting. Baron is absolutely in control and choosing what he is saying and doing. Laura had a completely different type of damage. Dante' could tell too as I expect many of us can.

The remainder of lunch the adults were subdued but the kids seemed to regain their composure very quickly. I'm still not sure what to make of it. I suppose we should have probably punished the kids for raising their weapons like that; however, Dix asked Scott and I in particular if we would let him handle it. He took all the kids and gave them a quiet and serious lecture with a stern warning not to go vigilante. He also told them that the adults had a plan. The plan was news to me; apparently news to most everyone else as well but we found out what it was later.

After the lunch fracas was settled I decided to get started on preserving the watermelons that I had set aside for that purpose. Saen hung out with me so that meant that Fy was there. Fy will do just anything for Saen. I found out that Fy's grandfather's wife (her dad's step mother) was Thai and that she had been Fy's babysitter until she turned six and had to start school.

A bunch of the girls, including my own, came to play in the kitchen with us. Apparently since it was watermelon it was more "fun" than "work."

First we started out by slicing a couple of watermelons. We needed both the rinds and the pink flesh for different recipes. The first thing we made was Watermelon Jelly. That took four cups of watermelon (the pink part) and three and a half of sugar plus sure-jell and lemon juice. That didn't give us a whole heck of a lot of jelly but enough that in a few months when we don't have watermelon we'll be able to have a melon-y treat with biscuits … assuming we still have the flour to make biscuits in a few months. Though I'm thinking about digging out my recipes for cornmeal biscuits and start trying those on our hungry crowd.

Next we took the rinds and made Watermelon Rind Pickles. Some people like to pickle their rind in big chunks but I don't. I do it like my grandmother always taught me to do it … in appetizer or single-bite sized pieces.

Next we made some Pickled Watermelon … not the rind this time, but the pink flesh. This was a real easy recipe. For every pint jar of watermelon flesh you put in a teaspoon of salt, a clove of garlic, a little fresh dill, a chili pepper of whatever size you want (I prefer the small and mild ones), one stick of celery, and one chunk of green bell pepper. In a kettle you take 8 cups of water and a cup of white vinegar and bring them to a boil. Pour the boiling hot liquid over the watermelon in each jar. My grandmother always said that you would then process the jars until the green pepper started to change color, I always stuck to what was safe and used the standard processing time for pint jars at my altitude. And because this is a pickle, the processing is doing in a boiling water bath.

Then of course if I made watermelon jelly I had to show the girls how to make watermelon jam. Basically it's the same sort of recipe as the jelly only you don't puree the flesh for juice, you leave the flesh in pieces so you wind up with a chunkier texture.

And one of the last things we did, just to prove that there is a way to use just about everything from most plants, I showed them how to make Watermelon Rind Preserves which is sweet rather than tart like pickled rind.

By then it was time to prepare for dinner. In fact we had overshot it by a bit and didn't have time to do much cooking from scratch so I had the girls help me make a great big pot of Jambalaya using canned ham, canned bacon, canned tomatoes, chicken broth that I made up from some powder I had, rice (of course), some rabbit sausage that Betty had made up, and then all the seasonings including a good sized helping of my dried onions.

Then the girls go, "Oh, Miss Sissy … " in a sing-song choir of voices.

I turn around and find that we still hadn't used two big bowls of watermelon. Those girls are stinkers. They thought they'd get to eat all that watermelon by themselves but I got them right back and for laughs I treated everyone to Deep Fried Watermelon. I thought Dix was going to rebel for sure this time but after Cease nearly tripped over himself to get the first piece Dix wasn't quite so bashful.

Here's my mom's version of my great grandmother's recipe. Of course I had to triple the recipe to feed us all but that wasn't a big deal given that we needed to use up what we'd already cut up.

Deep Fried Watermelon

1 (6 to 8 pounds) seedless watermelon

3 cups vegetable or canola oil for deep-frying

1/2 cup cornstarch (cornflour)

2 egg whites, beaten

2 teaspoons water

3/4 cup flour

Powdered confectioners' sugar for garnish

Cut the watermelon in half lengthwise. Cut each half again lengthwise into 2. You should have 4 long triangular-shaped pieces. Remove the rinds, cut into 1-inch thick slices, then cut the flesh into about 1-inch triangles. (It is not a science, so do not worry if you have odd shapes.) Heat oil in a deep-fryer or wok to 350 F. Whisk cornstarch with egg whites and water until combined. Dredge watermelon chunks in the flour, then coat with the cornstarch batter. Deep-fry in batches, leaving room in between pieces to properly brown, until watermelon chunks are golden. Remove from oil and drain well. Sprinkle deep-fried watermelon with a dusting of powdered confectioners' sugar to serve.

While we were cooking I couldn't help but laugh to myself. My girls must have been thinking some version of "the enemy of my enemy is my friend." They just drew Fy into their shenanigans and poor Fy wasn't quite sure what to make of it. I decided to freak her out a little more and gave her a hug and a pat when she mastered a technique. She jumped a mile the first couple of times I did it. I just ignored her freaked out-ness and continued to do it. By the time we finished all the canning batches she stopped looking at me like I had three heads.

Saen caught onto what I was doing and helped me by doing the same thing. Fy remains more attached to Saen and that's fine by me, I just don't want to have the same regrets with Fy that I have with Maddie. Besides, I still get a kick out of wondering what Glenn is going to think. I know Glenn would move heaven and earth both to make Saen happy but I'm wondering what he is going to think about adoption. We'll have to see I guess. They may have talked about it, I'm not sure. I'm nosey but I try and meddle as little as I can remind myself to.

There is one person I have no doubt about however. Nana gives me the eye every time she gets near me. And she acts like she has to protect the Cheval kids from me. Those kids don't know whether to be afraid of me or not. I resent the implication but I really don't know what to do about it right now. Nana really got upset after dinner however.

She's not the kind of woman to really act and be confrontational and so what she said must have taken a lot of courage on her part so I give her points for that.

"How could you?!"

I looked around at first to see who she was talking to. She then continued, "Are you proud of yourself? He's just a boy!"

"Padric? He's with Scott. Have they … "

"You know I'm talking about Baron. How could you?"

"Excuse me ma'am but if you would just tell me what you think I've done … "

Scott, who had walked up on my blind side said, "She doesn't know, nor was she consulted." Then turning to me, "We're having a quick meeting at the Dining Hall so come on."

Yikes. Scott can occasionally be heavy handed with the machismo but rarely it is intentionally directed at me. I could tell he was a wee bit irritated … heavy on the sarcasm … but I also noted with thankfulness that it wasn't really directed at me.

During the meeting it became clear that the men were having trouble dealing with Nana. She was making things difficult for them and they hesitated to be rough with an older lady. The Mr. Morris said, "Enough Winnie. The boy is getting what he's getting and he better be glad it ain't worse."

Basically it's like this. Iggy is taking Baron on what Jim called a "walkabout." The boy is too disruptive for us to keep him. Scott told me privately that Iggy has been given the authority to decide on behalf of the group whether Baron makes the grade out there or whether he just flat out needs to go on one of the Orphan Trains.

It seems that Iggy … whose real name I just learned was Ignacio … grew up in NYC and got exposed to some pretty rough type kids. Sometimes these kids were helped by being "scared straight." There used to be a program where kids heading for jail were taken to the jail and to the morgue so that they could see where they were going to wind up if they didn't straighten up. Iggy hopes that exposing Baron to a world that is less protected than even the one he experienced with the ZKK (no Nana to run interference) that he will at least begin to be grateful for the opportunity he can be given at Sanctuary. However, let's be realistic. That tactic doesn't work with all kids and if he doesn't screw up so bad he gets himself killed and if Iggy decides that he isn't going to turn over a new leaf … or at least try to … then Iggy will place him on one of the military's orphan trains.

But Baron wasn't to know this. He was only told to get prepared to leave Sanctuary tomorrow morning early and that Iggy was going to be in charge. I'm glad Iggy volunteered but I sure hope he knows what he is doing. Iggy is no pushover … he served as an MP for a while for goodness sake … but I personally wouldn't trust the kid as far as I could throw him nor turn my back on Baron at all and that's going to make it doubly difficult for Iggy to keep them both safe for however long he is out and about on the "walkabout."

That's two going and we already have the two to replace them at the table. The girls name is Roberta though she adamantly begged everyone to call her Bobby instead. She's 19 and her baby is a boy named Hacket. I guess the name is some family name from her dad's side of the family. The girl isn't shy exactly but she comes off as a bit of an airhead. Of course that could just be the result of the disorientation of getting separated from her family, having a baby, and then traveling with Angus and Jim to some unknown area for some unknown duration. And Hacket isn't an easy baby either from what I gather. He eats … a lot … and that means that Bobby isn't getting much sleep.

I radioed Terra about making up some goats milk formula to help Bobby out but she said that it wasn't a good idea until Bobby's milk came in all the way and we made sure the baby was putting on weight just from breastfeeding. I kind of figured that but I also figured asking couldn't hurt. And if Bobby knew there was an alternative to breastfeeding she might not give breastfeeding her 100%. Catch-22 that could turn on mother and baby really fast.

Angus was able to hobble to the dinner table tonight but he was in some pretty good pain. He and Waleski are on the outs which is really no surprise. Angus is not what you would call a biddable patient. Ski and Iggy both agree that Angus has torn something in the knee and he's going to be laid up quite some time. They've braced the knee and Scott cut a crutch to size. Angus was a bit put out about having to use the crutch until Bekah, bless her timing, said "Look Uncle Angus, it's kinda like a giant shelaleigh."

Angus and Jim both tired out really fast and made an earlier night of it than even I expected. I don't think either of them got a decent amount of sleep while they were away though Angus seems to think he has some funny stories to tell on Jim. Before he headed off Angus gave me this huge purse and told me it was for the girls. I took it home not sure what I would find but having a feeling that I needed to check it out before I just handed it over. Make up. That sweetie remembered that there is hardly any make up for the girls. Some of the colors of the eye shadows were a little on the bright side so I'm not real sure I want to know where he found the stuff, but most of it still had the little stickers on it that told me it hadn't even been opened much less used. I'll dole it out to the girls a little at a time to keep Scott from going into shock at seeing his "little baby girls" all dolled up in war paint.

I've just about tired out myself so I'm going to call it a night and go put some foot cream on. Being on my feet all day is just really tiring but giving myself a bit of pamper time every once in a while helps. Here's hoping that Scott isn't too tired to give me a back massage.


	220. Day 259

_**Day 259 (Monday) – April 16 – Wash Day**_

Haven't been able to get a major washing done today. It's been raining off and on too much to get anything dry. We did get all the under things washed but I wound up having to iron the last few things tonight to dry them out. When Scott saw me ironing his socks and underwear I thought he was going to bust a gut laughing. I told him next time I'll just let them sour and he can see how funny it is.

Aside from the off and on rain it's been pretty quiet. At first light Iggy left with Baron. I have no idea where they are going. Iggy promised to keep a written record of things for me but I'm not sure if I'll get it when he comes back or if Dix has arranged for drop points so that we can keep tabs on their progress (or lack of).

Dante' has gone over all of Brandon's most current papers and there is only one thing that he is concerned about. Brandon had kept an off and on log of Sanctuary happenings, mostly births, deaths, commitments and major events. The basic statistics Dante' doesn't have a problem compiling; that's just SOP – names, dates, events. However, he asked Dix to ask me if I would help with some of the minutiae like what gets harvested each week, the "firsts" for any of the kids, birthdays, anniversaries, etc. I figure I already do it to a certain extent so I agreed to help so long as it didn't interfere with my current responsibilities.

In that vein, Dante' also wants to complete another "census" detailing who is residing where for Sanctuary and Aldea. He also wants to eventually do a census of the whole TTT but not until things settle down a bit.

Also in that vein I suppose I should mention that Angus has very generously offered up his firehouse for Dora and her family to move into. He said if we are going to have neighbors it might as well be neighbors we pick. Theo carried the news back to Dora who has her hands full trying to get her whole brood ready to move. They are going to strip down everything they can and bring it with them and use it to further reinforce the area immediately surrounding the firehouse. The rooftop garden and water catchment system she is already thankful for. The smokehouse that Angus built will also be a huge plus for them once meat starts making a comeback to the area.

There is the problem however with over hunting our area. Too many "neighbors" and hunting is going to turn into a bigger chore than it already is. On the other hand, if we build a real community area then maybe the big predators will avoid us. Mr. Choi and the Koreans lost half their chickens to a big cat; I think from the description it is some kind of bobcat or a lynx. We have bobcats naturally here in Florida and they're probably making a comeback now they aren't being hunted or run over. But then again when the nut cases let the animals loose from the Big Cat Rescue facility it could be one of those animals or maybe even one from Lowry or Busch.

We continue to be lucky – and I believe that is all it really is – in that we've haven't had any incursions into our livestock. Some of it is the Wall, some of it is that we've continued to cut back all foliage within 50 yards of the outside of the Wall. Some of it is our constant watching. But we've seen signs. It's almost inevitable that some big predator or other is going to cause us problems. I rue the day it happens, but it is going to happen. I just hope the damage isn't too extensive and we can kill whatever does it and have done with it already.

Today we had rabbit again. The things multiply like … well, like rabbits. Angus was kinda of bored so he "supervised" teaching some of the kids how to skin a rabbit the easy way. I'm going to repeat his instructions here but I need to keep in mind that you can't just leave a man like Angus to find a way out of his own boredom; that way leads to him getting up to all sorts of mischief. Hmmm. I wonder if Scott and Bob can come up with a way to hook up a hot tub … and it would be good for his knee also.

How to skin squirrels and rabbits: _First take the squirrel carcass in the palm of your hand, belly up with the head facing you._ _Then use a small knife with a two-inch blade and insert the blade under the skin at the neck and run it down the belly not cutting anything but the skin. At the unmentionables continue the cut around all but cut the meat so the yuckies are loose but still attached to innards._ _Next pull the skin working your fingers under and around the neck all the way._ _From there cut the skin away from the head._

 _The next part is like one of those magic tricks where magicians pull the tablecloth off without knocking any dishes to the ground._ _Grip the head in one hand and skin in other and pull off in one quick pull. Lastly, with two fingers, push in under ribs and scoop out innards._

 _Rabbit is the same in the beginning as squirrel except after cutting down to the crotch you grip head in one hand and grip the hip in the other and bend the rabbit in half backwards. Then with the critter held at head level you throw it to the ground - without letting go. This whips the innards right out in one motion. Then you cut around the a** and it all is ready to remove the skin as with the squirrel._

I nearly skinned him for saying "ass" in front of the kids. It set them to giggling like little fiends. I heard James telling the younger boys not to repeat it or they'd get on my bad side. Of course I heard him and Tris laughing about it later, each one trying to guess which kid was going to get into trouble first.

We keep as many doe bunnies as we can and just take some of the bucks but it's a little hard when our hutch of bunnies is still relatively low. We need to keep the breeding stock diversified. We walk a fine line with all of the animals but particularly those that breed quickly and often.

At least I've finally found a good way to get rid of all the chicken and bunny poop. We've got a field started that we're going to try a little winter wheat on. We may not be able to do anything but harvest it for seed to use next year but we are going to give it the old college try. Florida is wet and muggy so I'm not sure if we are going to run into plant diseases for the wheat but it's either that or …

Scott and I now have a firm, though temporary, treaty in place. He doesn't mention going north for supplies and I won't burst into tears when I've had enough of it. Well, it was the tears or the load of wet socks I threw at him, one of the two. I just can't handle the idea of him leaving right now. Some inner something is telling me that it is time to regroup, re-stabilize, before we take off on another adventuresome part of life.

For one I don't know if we've finished with the ZKK. Dora came with news that the ones over at Westshore are talking big and trying to scare people, saying it will be our fault when they launch an attack and damn whoever gets in their way; intentionally or not.

For another there is so much work to do right now. Given that we don't know what any hypothetical trading venture will find – if anything – we need to make the most of what we have at home. I've pulled out my native edible plant books that are specific to Florida and I'm looking for more that we can have without the added burden of cultivation.

We also have too many folks at less than 100%. As Scott points out we have more friends but as I pointed out right back friends yes but will they be allies enough to back us in any fight we run into. So many people have their own concerns still. And people are looking at us for protection, not the other way around. The last thing I want to do is spend the rest of my life playing hall monitor for this end of town but it may very well come down to that.

My last point is a tad petty if truth be told. I have to reign in my own desire to go adventuring. I want to know what has happened to my family in Tennessee and Kentucky. I want to know what happened to my brother and nephews. I'd love to know … oh lots of things. And sometimes I just want to get away from here. Away from all the responsibilities and workload. I know I should be grateful and truly I am … but at the same time I want it all. Or at least closer to the "all" that I used to have before NRS came along to wreck our lives and my independence. And no one needs to tell me that is counterproductive right now but it's the way I feel, logical or not.

Nana is a nice woman; I think she is anyway. I keep telling myself that anyway. She's a little passive aggressive for my tastes but she really does want the best for the kids. Just her best and my best don't seem to be running in sync. The Cheval kids have got to start doing more work around here. Their brief respite is over. Even if I was inclined to give them more time the rest of the kids around here are beginning to voice questions about why the Cheval kids don't help with the chores, why they don't join in lessons. And I don't have a good enough reason for them.

I'll give it one more day and then I'm going to have to say something to Dix if he doesn't do something himself before then. He's the primary chore chart creator. We make sure he has all the times we need blocked out – like school time or special projects – but he is the one that fills in names. I think it is his way of taking the heat off of the rest of us. The duty rosters aren't terribly detailed, everyone now knows what is expected of them for a particular chore; the time is simply blocked off and it is up to those assigned to work it out.

Today I had to do battle with Nana … metaphorically as we didn't really battle … to get the Cheval kids to work in the garden. Finally I had to be the meanie and say, "the kids no work, the kids no eat." I could have done without the shocked gasp from her but there you go. The kids at least came to understand that I wasn't going to eat them, I just expected them to help right alongside the other kids. And I wasn't standing over them bossing them about; I was working hard as well.

When the tween girls brought drinks for everyone I made sure, as I always do, that the kids got something to drink first and made sure they had a chance to sit down every twenty minutes or so once the heat of the day set in. I think the kids saw this, now let's see if it sinks in that I'm not out to turn them into slaves or indentured servants. They just need to pull their weight and help out.

One of the new things we harvested today is zucchini. Lots and lots of zucchini. I'm going to need to start using it up pretty soon. I had several trays to dry but I think I'll wait until tomorrow and try and fill up the whole drier before wasting the wood.

Scott took down two really good sized tree today. When one of them came up we found an old concrete septic tank. McElroy has designs on turning it into some kind of trap or other. But gack, the smell that was coming from the tank. I gagged really hard and that takes some doing these days. They sealed the tank back up real quick but it just reinforced to Scott that he needs to get a pumper truck in here and suck out all of the septic tanks before they start backing up. We still use the toilets in the house at night using non-potable water like dish water or clothes washing water.

I know this is a weird connection but cleaning the septic tanks out made me remember that I need to get some yeast going. Not the sourdough kind but where you take a packet of yeast, put it in a bit of flour, roll it out, and make yeast cakes for later use in baking. It's a way of multiplying your yeast. (The connection is that you can dump regular yeast into your septic tank along with a little brown sugar and you add good flora into your septic system to break down wastes.) That needs to get done quickly to make sure we don't just run out of yeast. Yeast at least I can manufacture, I don't know where I'm going to come up with baking soda and baking powder. Or salt for that matter. This isn't _Alas, Babylon_ where we can conveniently float downriver and find a load of salt and a lot of blue crabs to bring home just in the nick of time.

And in the nick of time I say it is time for bed. Johnnie and Bubby are starting to squabble and James is getting irritated with them. Padric is sleeping at our house tonight, perhaps permanently and getting him to sleep with in the boys' room is proving to be a challenge. He wanted to sleep on the floor beside James which then made the other boys want to do the same thing. James said he would sleep in their room another time after he was feeling better. Padric was starting to get that panicky look on his face until Scott told the boys that he'd read them a bedtime story if they promised to go to sleep.

I'll guess we'll see how that goes but I'll have to write it down tomorrow. I'm off to bed.


	221. Day 261

_**Day 261 (Wednesday) – April 18 – Water Day**_

I was too tired last night to post. I'm even more tired tonight but I hate to go two days without recording something in the journal. I get this itchy, antsy feeling like I've forgotten something important. I hate that feeling. It makes it too hard to sleep peacefully regardless of my level of exhaustion.

First, update on everyone. Iggy is still out there, presumably with Baron. I'm a little anxious. Iggy can't exactly be having a good time with that kid. I hope this works; bringing Baron to some semblance of something we can work with I mean. If he would put as much effort into something constructive as he does into be a pain in the butt that kid could really be a contributing member of the community … ours or someone else's. He's got the energy, now if he could just find an aptitude for something other than "buttheadedness."

Jim is almost 100%. He's still bruised and twinges every so often but the worst of the soreness and resulting fatigue is gone. Same for Dante' although the man has been kind of blue since Bo went home to Aldea. I guess that is what "weekend dads" must feel like.

David's arm is healing at a good rate though Ski still has him on half-duty for the rest of the week. James is up and around and only goes to bed about half an hour earlier than he did before. He's still real careful of his side but his arm seems to be paining him none at all except when he tries to fire his rifle. That has him frustrated but he's relieved that he can at least hit what he is aiming at.

Glenn got up and walked around some today. He threatened to boycott any more green soup until I put a few hot peppers in it to tickle his fancy. Saen rolled her eyes and told me that if I really wanted to spoil him to make him some of the coconut gravy that I made a couple of months back … so I did. Veggies and coconut gravy went over really well with the gator picadillo that I made with some of the last of the penne pasta in the Storehouse. (Note to self: gotta find a way to make Italian style pasta or figure a way to turn rice noodles into spaghetti so that no one notices.) Fy will likely be returning to Aldea with Saen and Glenn. Fy doesn't quite know what to make of Glenn but Glenn's attitude seems to be if it makes Saen happy that is all that counts.

Angus will be hobbling for quite a few weeks. The knee can't handle any weight at all. Ski thinks if this was pre-NRS he'd already have had knee surgery but all we've got is time and a little bit of physical therapy after the knee has done as much healing as it can. The knee is one of the most used joints in the entire body. I can tell every once in a while Angus is trying his best not to let his frustration show. He is also in some pain. Lucky for him the kids are more than willing to fetch and carry. And Bob and a couple of the other men thought the idea of a hot tub was really great … if they think even for a second I'm bringing them mead dressed up in a Viking bikini they can think again. I'm all for helping the men out but unless they want to wear speedos and bring us women mead and iced tea while we are relaxing they can just keep their fantasies in check.

One of the reasons I didn't feel like writing yesterday is that not only was I too tired from working but I was also too tired from holding my tongue. All of the men are handling Nana with kid gloves. It's her age and the fact that she is a nice woman; but, she and I are just not communicating very well. Scott said she reminded him of his mother which I thought was a compliment until he clarified by saying that she reminded him of his mother the last couple of years she was alive and used to use the guilt thing to get what she wanted. Oh. Hmmm. Well, I'm glad I'm not the one that said it.

I loved Scott's mother but she could on occasion … hmmm … well, I'm not going there. Suffice it to say that Scott saw the resemblance without any prompting from me and I'm totally OK with being grateful for that and then doing the smart thing and keeping my mouth shut.

Nana makes me feel like an ogre for wanting to make the kids work so hard. Well, maybe I don't feel precisely ogre-ish but it does ping a little on my personal insecurities that I'm not doing enough to make things easier on the younger squirts. I just wish … boy how I wish … it was as easy as Nana seems to think it is. Just let the kids be kids and don't worry about the rest. The problem with that is what happens to them if I'm not around or if they have to survive on their own for any length of time. And then whose definition of "kid" do you use?

In many cultures … historically and in modern times … boys were men by the age of 12 or 13 and had all the associated responsibilities and benefits. For girls, many are expected to learn how to be wives and mothers as soon as they exit the hatch. I know that isn't true of a lot of Westernized cultures but it wasn't that long ago that it was like that even here in the US. Heck both my grandmothers were married at thirteen and my mom sixteen when she and my dad were married (and all three marriages made it to the "until death do us part" bit) … so yeah, this was back in the sticks of Kentucky but it's not exactly ancient history either. It would scandalize most people these days but in truth I can see the average age of marriage (or commitment depending on how you look at it) falling again to those youthful ages. It's one of the issues that Scott and I have discussed at length - emphasis on the at length accompanied by manly growly noise when the subject comes up.

I didn't get that deep with Nana though. All I said is that it wasn't my intent to hurt the kids but I wasn't going to underestimate their ability to contribute to the community either. The kids had to help and I then proceeded to assign them duties commiserate with their ages and sizes. I also assigned them to a school group and play group on the same basis.

Nana didn't like that this broke the Cheval kids up but it is the most constructive way for us to handle things and insured that the kids would begin to socialize into our group. The kids seemed to enjoy themselves … well, as much as kids do when they have chores … so I didn't see a problem with it. They totally fell into the idea of "school time" and "play time" which is probably as close to normalcy as they've had in quite some time.

Nana on the other hand didn't receive things as well and went to Dix and Scott asking them if they had approved "my" plan. I have nothing to fear so it's not like I really care if someone asks questions about the way we are running things around here. The current schedule is based on a consensus of most of us that cared to put our opinion out there. What I found a little offensive was the unspoken issue of it not being the plan under discussion but my competency.

Scott realized I was really stretching myself to keep a civil tongue in my head and gave me a hug and then asked me if I worried that Nana didn't have the kids' best interest at heart. The thing is I think she does. I have no doubt that she really does care about the Cheval kids as well as about the other kids around here. When I told that to Scott he shrugged and "ok" and then asked if I thought it was a control issue. I almost said no automatically … 'cause at the time I was taking it too personally … when I thought about it. Then I realized one of the things that bothered me about Nana the most was our similarities.

I'm a bit of a control freak and I totally admit that. Okay, a lot of a control freak. It isn't one of my most attractive personality quirks. If I'm not in control I have to have full confidence in the person that is in control or my head and my backend can sometimes switch places. I struggled with this in particular with James; lucky for me Scott helped to act as mediator. I'm beginning to wonder if maybe Nana is beginning to feel a little useless and disconnected to the identity she had invested so much in for so long; probably often placing herself in danger in the process. I think I'll talk to Mr. Morris about it tomorrow and see what he has to say.

In a way it was a good thing that I was kept so busy. I don't like to admit it but with too much time on my hands I may not have handled things as constructively as I did by simply ignoring Nana's maneuvering.

I tell you the last couple of days we've had a lot coming out of the garden. I gave the following to Dante' for the records so I might as well go ahead and copy it here. We harvested the following: black zucchini, round zucchini, Scarlet Runner pole beans, Romano pole beans, Painted Lady runner pole beans, Fordhook lima beans, Baby Butter beans, Blue Hopi heirloom corn, Serrano hot peppers, pepperoncini hot peppers, cayenne peppers, Jamaican hot peppers, habanero peppers, green bell peppers, yellow bell pepper, purple bell peppers, red bell peppers, banana legs tomatoes (this is a really odd looking heirloom), black seaman tomatoes, bonny best tomatoes, brown berry tomatoes (these things really are brownish red), cherry roma tomatoes, Italian heirloom tomatoes, large red cherry tomatoes, marglobe tomatoes, plum lemon tomatoes, prudens purple tomatoes, red pear tomatoes, red zebra tomatoes, Rutgers tomatoes, sausage tomatoes (looks like a red banana pepper), Italian paste tomatoes, watermelon beefsteak tomatoes, white cherry tomatoes, black mountain watermelons, bush sugar baby watermelons, Dixie Queen watermelons, and collard greens. I also started harvesting some herbs for drying by hanging them in the former garage of the Storehouse. And we've got a lot of stuff still coming out of the Native Grove: Florida betony (wild radish), custard apples, star apples, black sapotes, tropical apricots, the last of the loquats, cherries of the rio grande, grumichamas, mysore raspberries (my word those canes are terribly prickly), tamarind pods, calamondins, and key limes.

I've kept the Drying Oven going 24/7 for the last couple of days. If this keeps up we are going to need a lot more aged wood than we have. Scott said he'd take some of the guys and go around the area and mark some trees for cutting and stacking.

We had carpenter ants and termites get into one of our wood piles. Scott treated the pile and the ground around it with some liquid poison that kills subterranean termites and ants but he said if we get dry wood termites we're in trouble. All of the houses in this area have current stickers on them for termite prevention. The ones that Scott wasn't sure about he has since demolished. He's also treated each of our buildings in Sanctuary with what chemicals he's been able to brew. He's got a few "homemade" recipes for termites and carpenter ants but he hates putting stuff where we may need to plant or the kids play (specifically in and around the house in the edible landscape areas). Guess we'll just have to stay on top of inspecting things and cross any bridge when we come to it. But it is one of the primary reasons why we keep all the wood piles far from any of our buildings, gardens, or trees.

Tomorrow is going to be a full day of food prepping. I need to make up some more convenience mixes, get the rest of the stuff in the cooler preserved, and we need to sit down and plan some additional menus not to mention decide what, if anything, we are going to take to the next Market Day that will be here before you know it. It's this coming Monday.

Dora isn't sure if she'll be able to go or not. Moving to the firehouse has taken a lot of time. They can only work during the daylight hours outside and she hasn't really had time to make up more soap to sell. I'm thankful I got what I did last time. Theo asked if he could trade work and maybe get some help building their own version of a Wall around the firehouse and the empty field to the north of that building.

You'll never guess what Theo wants to do. He grandfather used to work at one of those "U-Pull-It" junk yards. He says there are blocks of squished cars out behind Copher Brothers that could be used just like building blocks. The thing is they are too heavy for him to move. He needs adult help and he needs someone that knows how to operate a truck big enough that he can bring enough back to build the wall with. Then there is the issue of manhandling the blocks in place above the first row.

Bob and McElroy are intrigued by the idea. Scott is letting them handle that particular project; he has enough on his plant working with Dix and Glenn and their plans to ramp up Sanctuary's defenses to the next level. And he's already been tapped to help Mr. Choi run some expanded metal siding around the farm area for protection. That's going to be two rows … concentric circles … with about 18 inches between them. They then plan to fill the gap with rock and sand. That's a lot of manual labor but it will give them some protection from flying bullets. The idea is to use all the sheet metal roofing from the various houses and barns in the area as their fencing material which would keep them from having to go too far afield for their supplies.

It's cute, Conrad and his son Roddy have gone over to see Mr. Choi several times since the big fishing trip. Methinks that we may lose Conrad soon to the charms of a Korean archer. Mr. Choi doesn't seem to be too perturbed by it … actually not at all. I can see from his cultural standpoint that getting his girls married off as being a good thing, especially if they are bringing men in to help with the labor and defense of their homestead in the process.

I think David may have twitted Rose once too often about how pretty the Korean girls are. Now he is trying really hard to get back into her good graces. I wouldn't call it a fight but David forgets that Rose may seem all grown up but she is still struggling with her confidence level when it comes to him. I gave him a light dope slap and told him he better figure a way to make this better before it becomes a real issue. I then went and told Rose that he didn't really mean it and to let him off the hook sooner rather than later before it becomes a real issue. You know I never intended to get involved in my kids' love lives … this just gives me the ickies and heebie jeebies. Lord above knows that Scott and I have had to figure out a thing or three between us … and we did it without help. I should stop meddling. I really should. Yeah … I'll keep telling myself that and hopefully it'll stick one of these days before I really irritate the kids.

And so it would seem that James also has a "love interest." All of those chess games and such should have clued me in. They are prancing around it and it is kind of cute to watch. I refuse to help with this until I absolutely have to. Let 'em wait until they are brave enough to tell each other about it. If they can't do that then they aren't ready for anything anyway. Scott and I got a giggle out of it, though we both are also starting to feel the emotional effects of growing older.

I wonder if we'll see the young bucks of Aldea start looking around for love interests? This is going to get interesting real quick if they do.

Well I'm off to bed to develop my own love interest. Scott and I work so much these days on totally different projects that it's harder to find together time than when he worked at the bank before Johnnie was born.


	222. Day 262

_**Day 262 (Thursday) – April 19 – FOOD PREP DAY**_

It has been quite some time since I was tree'd by a zombie. In fact I've been making my own luck on the issue for several months now. Training don't ya know. How it quite happened today I'm not sure. It's one of those crazy things that just sort of happens in life as the exception that proves the rule.

Morning came early today. I was off and running before daybreak. Breakfast for me was fruit and a homemade granola bar. At least it's what I meant to eat for breakfast. I grabbed it and stuck it in the fanny pack that has become such a vital piece of my wardrobe. I also had my machete and my .22LR pistol on me … not the .22 rifle, the Ruger Mark III pistol. I feel so conspicuous when I carry the rifle and it invariably gets in my way and I bang it on everything; at least that is my latest excuse.

James and David had been out yesterday laying traps to see if we can add anything to our larder without actually having to spend time hunting. Frankly even a couple of iguanas would be welcome at this point. I'm getting worried that we are going to use up all of our canned and smoked meats before we get any more big game.

The sun was just coming becoming visible though it had been light a little while at that point. I was all ready – so I thought – and grabbed the game bag to prove my confidence in the boys' ability to do some successful trapping. Lord knows they've bothered Angus about it enough.

Scott was only three lousy minutes ahead of me with McElroy to go see about pumping out that septic tank and pushing the tree the rest of the way over so the main trunk could be sawed and then hauled to the new "lumber yard" that Bob had helped to set up. I thought, "What could happen?" I was conscientious and told the boys on the gate where I was going and I even jogged to show I was going to catch up with Scott and Henry. Seriously, I jogged … thank goodness for good support bras and a belt to keep my pants up. And thank goodness I had more sense that to let the machete bang around while I was running; I had my hand right on the hilt which is probably what saved my sorry rear bumper.

I made it through the cleared perimeter with no trouble. I had the septic truck in sight and even saw Scott and Henry get out. I had picked up a little speed and was feeling pretty good and frisky despite the early heat of the day. Scott turned and I waved happily. But the look on his face completely threw me off. I could hear his cry and then saw the telltale puff of dirt to my front left. Who the heck was shooting at me and why?!

I turned and it was nearly on me. Luckily when I turned I pulled the machete just as a matter of instinct and the blasted thing skewered itself giving me something to leverage with as I turned; I slung it away from me as fast as I could.

It felt like everything was in slow motion. I turned, again on instinct trying to reach Scott's side. Not so much for protection but because I just knew he was going to have a cow about this. Only when I turned I found three more nasties and they were between me and Scott. Add to that the men were under attack too. I later found out that something or someone had dug out around the septic tank lid and the weakened the ground just enough that it caused the tree to settle and crack the septic tank wide open. The smell of the raw sewage is why no one had noticed the obvious smell of rot from the zombies that normally gave them away.

There was quite a few zombies coming out of the bushes and Scott (and Henry) were fighting for their lives too. It wasn't a horde of them but I lost count when there was more than a dozen. Scott wasn't giving all his attention like he should because he kept trying to see where I was and how I was doing. Oh I couldn't have that. Scott went down under a barrage attack from two shamblers and then it happened.

You know there are few things I'm more embarrassed by than my temper. My temper is NOT my friend. And there are only a hand full of times that I've truly gone berserker and most of them have seem to come in the last few months, or at least that is how it has felt. I did it twice as a teenager and scared myself so bad I cried and then puked. Happened a couple of times as an adult when someone was threatening my family. It has to be one of those immediate threats to trigger it. When it happens I'm not me anymore … and I don't like it 'cause I can't honestly remember a short period of time between point A and point B. I usually come to myself doing something regrettable.

I have no idea how I got from where I was to where I wound up. Where I wound up was kicking the gooshies out of zombie's head while Scott was trying to haul me backwards. My world suddenly turned upside down – literally – when Scott pulled a caveman and threw me over his shoulder and ran the short distance to one of the big live oaks several yards away. "I am NOT Tarzan woman, wake up and climb!" which was accompanied by a not too comfortable clap on my backside to emphasize Scott's point.

As we climbed … well, McElroy said it was like watching a Lucy and Desi skit combined with an Abbott and Costello show. We were basically fussing at each other for being in danger.

"Where's your rifle?!"

"My rifle? Where's your rifle?!"

"Don't you dare do anything like that again!"

"Look in the mirror and say that!"

"Dang it, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Well I'll have nightmares about this for years to come!"

By the time all three of us got to the strongest top branches we could sit on McElroy was laughing so hard he nearly fell off his perch. "You two are too much. I hope Rhonda and I can pull this relationship stuff off as well as you do."

Well, we thought we were having an argument but apparently he viewed it as a display of affection. I can see how he might think something of the sort considering in hindsight we were doing as much hugging and kissing as we were bickering at each other.

I will put this here since neither man will be reading this any time soon. I actually got to Lord it over them for once. I may not have had my rifle but I did have my pistol and extra ammo. The guys had their pistols but no extra ammo … it was in the cab of the pumper truck with their day packs and their rifles. But did I raze them? Oh no … not me … but if they ever pick on me again you can bet your bottom dollar I'm going to pull this little gem out for review. As my Momma would have said, that's just the woman in me.

Well, between the three of us and a support team from Sanctuary we soon put paid to our early morning zombie problem. Dix brought Juicer over and we loaded all of the sanitized corpses for disposal. Given the smell emanating from Juicer when the squisher plate rotated its passed time to go dump it. There is a disposal detail scheduled for tomorrow and none too soon. I don't know what smelled worse – the cracked septic tank, the sanitized zombies, or the squished up goo in Juicer's belly. None of it was exactly lilacs and roses.

Scott and I did a lot of relieved touching and hugging while things were being cleaned up. Then I stood back and let him drop the sucker hose down into the tank to clean out what was down there. He spent the rest of today emptying all of the septic tanks in Sanctuary whether they needed it or not. They'll dump that down at the disposal site tomorrow when they are emptying Juicer. I know it's just plain gross but there isn't a real viable alternative that remains when you realize fuel is a precious commodity and that it takes a lot of it to operate backhoes and bucket tractors to bury the corpses and sewage. Instead we dump stuff out on the concrete and gravel at the disposal site and the big predators and sun and exposure hasten the decomposition faster than would have happened if we had buried them in any kind of grave.

Then James, relieved that his parents were actually OK even though he did his best not to be emotional about it, said that he'd walk with me to check their traps. Poor boy, not a single trap was even sprung much less have anything in it. The animals in the area must have sensed the zombies and gone to ground while they were around.

James and I did happen to make note of a wild blackberry hedge that was just starting to bloom. We should start seeing lots of different berries the beginning of May. I've added this to my own trips outside of Sanctuary in the form of visiting some U-Pick places in hopes of finding something viable that hasn't already been claimed by others. Let's see, tomorrow Scott and Bob have promised to take me to Lowry or Busch to check for those caffeine plants, then the market day is Monday, and near the beginning of May I'll have the U-Pick farms to track down and visit.

I went back to Sanctuary mid-morning to get started on my list of food prep. James and I no sooner step through the gates than we're met by Ski who had a worried look on his face. Padric scared the girls so bad Rose carried him over to the Clinic. They couldn't get him to stop crying and rocking himself. I run over there and he must have heard James' voice because he comes barreling out the door despite the mild sedative that Ski had given him. He hitches his breath but instead of running to James like I expected him to he runs into me so hard Ski grabbed my arm to help me keep upright.

I wound up having to sit right down in the yard with him while he was crying. "Don't do that! Don't do that! They promised to come for me but they never did! I saw them get in the truck with Celeste but they never came back for me!" Over and over and over. I just held him and let him cry. I looked at Dix who had come out but he just shrugged. Nana came over and I looked at her inquiringly but she didn't know either.

It was Fy that finally explained, "Celeste is his little sister. His mom was going to have another baby too so they got evacuated out. His dad had some kind of blood problem and got evacuated out with them. We were all supposed to go out on the next big truck but it never came."

I asked her if her parents went out on the same truck. "My parents never came home from work," was her quiet answer and then she turned her face into Saen's shoulder.

Padric finally fell into a quiet state that wasn't quite sleep but he wasn't quite a wake either. I carried him … he's small for his age … to our house and James said he would watch him. "Mom I didn't mean anything by it."

"What honey?"

"I told him … well, I told him he needed to treat you and Dad like his own parents because we were taking care of him now."

Then I had to reassure James and tell him that it was OK. Scott and I have talked about it and we'll take Padric in. I can't handle another infant right now but a child Padric's age is different. And it feels right in a way that taking Cinda in hadn't. I just hope we are up to the obvious emotional trauma that Padric is experiencing. He's a needy kid but with all of us in the house we should be able to handle that part of it. That might actually be what he needs. I just hope we can help him gain some self-confidence which is what he appears to lack most of all.

For all that had happened already at that point there was still another hour or so before lunch time. I wasn't on cooking duty so I finally started what I had needed to get to. I switched out what was in the Drying Oven and then bagged and tagged what went into storage. I also canned up a bunch of the stuff that had been accumulating in the Cooler and with the help of the teen and tween girls it went quicker than I expected it to. More hands make for a lighter work load.

Lunch came and went and so did dinner before I was satisfied with what I had accomplished for the day. I cleaned up the last of the mess and then headed home. I was quiet as I entered because I heard Scott reading the kids Endurance about Ernest Skackleton. The boys loved it. The next story will be one that Scott picks for the girls to enjoy.

I was happy to have a little peace, it gave me time to finally read one of Angus' journal entries and get it transcribed for Bekah to read.

* * *

 _Sightseeing Part One by Angus Cuddie_

 _Well I promised Bekah I'd keep this log for her on this trip so here it goes._ _Day three, I know but I haven't had time to write till now. OK I didn't want to. It's freakin hot, too hot to do much by the time we stop. Jim said he'd tell on me if I did start writing so here I am. We haven't gotten more than 40 miles as we have to stop every two so the horses don't get to hot. Not much to see yet as we are still in and out of the burn zone. More in than out. It's like the fire jumped over small areas. I think the most impressive sights of the fire are the cars. Some of them are little more than piles of black metal. We have seen more animals than we thought we would, mostly small ones. The ones that had burrows to hide in._

 _Jim had a close up encounter with one this morning. The mule likes to tell us when it's morning, and Jim was doing his morning business when he heard something. He had his revolver out and was creeping into the dark to investigate when I heard him start cursing and yelling in his native tongue (so I didn't have the slightest idea what he was saying as I don't speak Australian)._ _I was running with my short shotty and he came stumbling back into sight waving his hands in front of his face and shaking his head making the oddest face I've seen. Then the smell hit me._

 _Turned out our Aussie friend stepped on one of our American skunks and found something he now fears more than the dead. After I was sure he didn't get hit in the eyes I had him get the clothes off as fast as he could. Turned out he was pretty lucky and it didn't take a direct hit._ _Lucky for me too._ _Enough still soaked through to make him stink petty bad. We didn't have access to water for him to take a bath yet and if he put on his spare clothes they were going to stink just as bad as he did so we had a situation._

 _I decided pretty quick I wasn't going to be seen traveling across the state with some naked Aussie, you know that's how rumors get started. I gave Jim my spare kilt as I had brought it along with the spare pants in my saddle bag. That would leave me with only the pants as back up clothes but he only had the one extra set of clothes so what you gonna do._

 _While he was trying to figure out how to keep the kilt on - he's got a smaller waist than I do - without a belt, I saddled the horse and packed up the little we had out. Till this point I had kept from laughing at his predicament, but when he walked up to his horse to mount up I lost it. The horse got one good whiff of him and backed up away from him. He looked at the horse and told it he wasn't any happier about it either. That didn't seem to be enough for the horse._

 _I tried to stop my laughing after the first outburst but it was imposable. Jim ended up having to ride the mule for the day. The horse wouldn't even let him close enough to remove the saddle I had to do it. The mule had a very odd look on its face most of the day and Jim looked like he couldn't decide how he felt about the whole thing._ _Jim's sense of humor couldn't stay put for long though. He was making a lot of jokes_ _\- from a distance - about the dang critters in America._

 _The view we had was pretty much as it had been since we left. Trees without limbs just standing there waiting to be blown down in some storm, broken walls of homes and business. The roads were something else, most of the roads have been burned clean of the growth that had been taking over but some sections must have been hot enough for the asphalt to burn. In these sections all that's left is black crunching stones under the horse's hoofs._

 _Had to leave the big dogs behind as we're going by horse. They're not build for long distance walks like this. Mischief is back at sanctuary "guarding Bekah."_ _That always amuses me. Haven't found anything of interest or use yet but we did pass a little building that used to be a small daycare that wasn't too damaged. The only thing inside that I took was a stack of giant pencils, didn't know they still made the things. We hope to find some place that isn't destroyed to stop at for a day or two as we need to give the horses a good rest without their saddles on._

 _Because we have had to camp out in the open we have been keeping the saddles on in case we need to move out fast in the dark. We remove them before we make camp but before dark they go back on. Scrappy has taken a liking to the mice that seem to be every place you look out here. Every time I look at him he seems to be chewing on one._ _Speaking of Scrappy, he has developed a stronger liking for Jim now that he's sporting a new perfume._

 _The vastness of the view out here is really odd after the fire. You can see a lot farther than before and it's all empty, just the native plant life taking over. I can't imagine what it will look like in a few years. I did notice something that might be of use, some of the homes that have burned to the ground have oil tanks for heating oil. Hadn't thought of that before it being so hot down here all the time. Heating oil is just poorer grade diesel fuel. Wonder where there supplies came from. Gotta go, Scrappy and Jim are fighting over who gets to use the blankets tonight._

* * *

And with that done -and not much editing for language I'm afraid - I'm off to bed. Tomorrow is cleaning day and I need to flip all the mattresses after I air them out some. I hope to goodness it doesn't rain.


	223. Day 264

Day 264 (Saturday) – April 21

I … am … tired.

This is getting ridiculous. Am I simply feeling my age or is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life? I took a good look at myself in the mirror last night and just cried. So stupid. It's not like I've ever been seriously vain … well Ok, I'm more vain than I'll admit to and less vain that I could be. But if I had been seriously vain before I'd probably be in the loony bin by now with catastrophic psyche failure.

I keep cracking on the joke that I'm half the woman I used to be. Silly and it only covers up the fact that I was heavier than I should have been before and now that I've lost the weight I can't seem to stem the tide. Every few weeks I have to cinch something in, tighten a seam, hitch something up. My muscles were pretty good pre-NRS but now they are pretty well defined from the loss of body fat and the increased manual labor. I guess one of the biggest shocks has been I can no longer count the number of gray hairs I have. I'm still more brunette than white headed but they sure do stand out and I swear my hair is getting thinner.

Gack, girl, get over yourself. You are a forty-something mom of too many kids and you shouldn't be worrying that you no longer look like Sheena of the Jungle. For that matter you never looked like Sheena of the Jungle.

Whoever is reading this will be looking back and wondering what set the crazy journal writer off because – thank goodness – she doesn't often fall to feeling sorry for herself. Well, it started yesterday.

I already had a list of all the cleaning I wanted done before breakfast even started. Rose had to work most of the day in the Clinic so Charlene and Maddie said that they'd keep the kids on task. I was going with Scott and Bob and we were going to check Lowry Park Zoo and Busch Gardens to see about those plants that I wanted. It was only going to be the three of us because everyone else already had a lot of projects going. Or the ones that were free weren't really physically up to traipsing through the "jungle."

We took the F350 and used some of our precious diesel. Had the excursion been closer to home Bob said we could have taken one of the other vehicles that had been modified. But we didn't know what we would find nor whether there would be some rough travelling to get there.

First we drove south to hit Lowry Park Zoo. That was where I was going to see if I could get that display of Amazon plants that I remember near the bird exhibit. Trying to get into the park was more difficult than we had anticipated. The overgrowth was quite bad and some group had even tried to block off the entrance and take the park over. Their luck wasn't good on that score. The corpses looked half eaten, though whether that was by zombies or by animals it was too hard to tell.

I'm glad the exhibit wasn't too far into the park. It took all three of us hacking with machetes (yes, I had Old Faithful with me) nearly 20 minutes to get back to that area. I had buckets of rich planting medium in the truck bed but I wanted to get as much of the soil as I could when I dug up the guarana bushes. That was a suck-y kind of job and I jumped every time I would hear something rustling around too close. I got a whole slew of little bushes. I hope they breed true. The two big ones I had wanted were impossible to dig out.

Before we turned to leave Scott asked me if there was anything else I wanted. Bob looked at him like he was crazy. To be honest I could have probably enjoyed some exploring but we had gotten what we came for and pushing too much further into the bush on all sides could lead us into trouble we didn't need. We fought our way back out with the plants I did pick. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw a large boa draped over a tree branch but that was about as dangerous as it got.

From there we headed to Busch Gardens. Memories from my last excursion there danced in my head. It was like a ghost town between Lowry and Busch. It felt emptier than when a hurricane would shut Tampa down. And with good reason, Tampa really is turning into a ghost town. There are pockets of civilization like what we are developing in the TTT but in other areas the only thing you'll find is the stray walking corpse here and there.

Busch Gardens was easier to get into because it was surrounded by concrete … concrete roads, concrete walls, large concrete expanses of parking areas. I directed the men to the section I wanted to head towards which was the West African displays. Sure enough, there they were. These plants were much more difficult to gather. I had to use a shovel, pitchfork, and ultimately a small spade to get the roots and rootlets out of the surrounding ground with the least amount of damage.

This time Scott didn't ask if I wanted to look at anything before we left. The atmosphere within the park boundaries was oppressive. It was freaky as heck for me to look at all the overgrowth and damage and then try and match it to my memories of the park when I worked there as a teenager. This time though Bob wanted to stop. He motioned for us to follow him into several maintenance buildings.

While we were in one we heard quiet giggling and shushing approaching. "How are we gonna do it Em?"

"Same way as last time. Get rid of the old chick and the guys'll be ours."

"Yeah. For as long as they last."

I'll give Scott and Bob credit, they really did try to hold back the grins. I on the other hand was not terribly amused to say the least. I whispered to Scott, "If I'm an old chick what does that make you my friend who is two years old than I?" He got the message.

As for what they wanted the guys for I figured part of it was obvious and needed no explanation for those with an ounce of imagination. But the chicklets did not appear to really be the Amazon type so there had to be something more to it. I thought and then had to elbow the two guys as they were thinking a little too out loud about possibilities.

"Hey, keep the graphic stuff to a minimum if you don't mind. There is still a lady around here regardless of the slut brigade's intentions."

Scott snickered and mumbled something about "old chick" and they thought it was funny. I don't think Scott realized … heck I didn't realize … how much it was hurting my feelings at the time.

Then the thoughts finally coalesced and I said, they aren't Amazons, they're bait. Scott and Bob are quick studies.

"Could be," replied Bob after a thoughtful look. Ya gotta love that barely discernable German accent he has. "Look at the anchor each of those Mädchen have on their arms."

Then Scott asked, "Part of a press gang maybe? If so, what are they doing so far inland?"

"People on the coast wary enough to protect themselves? The US military's presence? The coasts are too thin of people? Does it really matter?" I hypothesized.

Bob said, "It could matter. Depends on how many they are. You said the river is not too far from here."

Yeah, he was right. There were two or three places relatively close to our current position that the Hillsborough River is easy to access, a lot more than that if you are taking into account where it runs behind homes and through parks. Heck, they could have caught sight of us at Lowry Park Zoo since the river runs right beside it. We never did find out for sure.

Suddenly a guy came on the scene. "You found those two yet? No? Then forget 'em, we got more than we need anyway. Cap'n is calling us back to base so we can take off."

Well, we knew at that point we were at least partly correct. The five chicklets slithered and jiggled their way back the way they had come. I was ready to just leave the scene, still in a snit over the "old chick" comment. Scott and Bob on the other hand got it into their heads that we could have press gangs roaming around town potentially causing us more problems down the road.

I probably would have agreed with them more readily in different circumstances but I was hot, sweaty, dirty and you could add cranky to the description too. But I also knew that their conclusion was the correct one. We needed to see what was up.

One of the first things Conrad had done to all of our vehicles was to modify them and upgrade as many parts as we could scavenge so that they ran as quietly has he could rig it. Normally the F350 is a pretty loud machine but now, with the new muffler and exhaust system, plus the F350 we had was the latest and most fuel efficient model on the market at the time and ran more quietly. Conrad further fiddled with it and coerced that heavy diesel engine to actually running more quietly than my new-ish Chevy van had (at least before it was cannibalized for parts for one of our gathering run passenger vans).

So we followed them out of the park. One of the trashy females said something about slashing the truck tires but the head ... um, female (OK, so I'm thinking it but that doesn't mean I have to write it) … said to skip it and they'd come back for us later if there was time. Scott and Bob said that they lost respect for them as opponents at that point. Not me. My opinion is that just because an enemy makes one stupid mistake it doesn't guarantee that they'll make any more of them.

Sure enough they headed south on 40th Street which would take them to the closest river crossing area. The bridge on 40th street had been replaced and modernized a couple of years ago. In fact that whole road had been "rejuvenated and updated" between Busch Blvd. and Hillsborough Avenue. They'd knocked out a lot of the curves, widened the road, and even landscaped when they had put in a new drainage system for the area.

Scott and I both knew how to take several side roads so that we could keep up with them without riding their bumper … assuming the side roads cooperated by not being blocked.

We weren't lucky enough not to have to deal with a fair amount of road blockage. I still don't know what the heck that piano was doing sitting right in the middle of a four-way stop. We lost them when we had to detour around debris from a house fire that had fallen into the side road but we were close enough to the river by that point that it didn't matter.

We parked the truck a few blocks back and then concealed it in the carport of an abandoned house. Anyone with sense could tell the car was too clean for its location but we took the chance any way.

They stuck me in the middle. Bob was point and Scott brought up the rear. I helped keep Bob pointed in the right direction but it really wasn't necessary. We could hear a ruckus up ahead of our position. When we were just a house away from the river, but to the west of the bridge, we belly crawled through the bushes until we got a clear view of what was going on.

About a dozen men, most in what looked to be their 30s and 40s, were fighting with the river pirates. And yep, that's what they were; or more appropriately river rats is what they were. Bob and Scott gave a little assist to the struggling me by taking out some of the pirates with well-placed shots. That only threw everyone into confusion due to not knowing where the shots came from or from whom.

Several of the pirates were pushed into the water … can you believe that two of them screamed they couldn't swim?! Those two could drown pretty good however and the thrashing and noise attracted several gators that had been sunning themselves on the river banks. I believe I've mentioned more than once there is a gator population explosion in progress. Then Bob took out the guy that looked like he was in charge of the pirates. That added even more to the pandemonium.

Yeah, I'll admit it. I was tempted to take my pound of flesh out on the women but I didn't. I don't know whether it was the right thing or not. I want to believe that I refrained from killing them because I wanted something to set me apart from them, to make me better regardless of their opinion. On the other hand, I could have just been too prideful and now an evil still roams about because I was too afraid to just go ahead and do what someone is likely going to have to do at some point anyway if they continue with their current behavior.

I don't know what tipped the battle's favor to the pressed men; us (or should I say Bob and Scott), the gators that had gotten quite excited by the brouhaha, or the small crowd of zombies that were drawn to the fighting. All three factors probably played a role. The last I saw of the five women was their tattooed lower backs as they sped away in a small bass boat. Most of the pirates themselves were killed or ran off along the bank calling for the girls to come back and pick them up. Several of the pressed men were also killed but the remainder took off in a small fishing boat heading in the opposite direction of the women's boat. The few people remaining on shore were zombie chow.

Within fifteen minutes most of the zombies had continued on their haphazard way. The few shamblers that remained were quickly put down by well-placed shots. We kicked the bodies over into the river for the pleasure of the gators. Even though that had an amazingly large ick-factor it also kept the gators from coming onto shore or climbing up onto the two flat bottom barges that were attached to a post-NRS built dock. That told us the river rats … or someone … had been using this as a loading and unloading area for a while because the wood of the dock had weathered despite it being pressure treated posts.

We could see immediately that both boats had been damaged in the fighting. One was beginning to take on water through a hole in the bottom and the other had a damaged pontoon that was causing it to list pretty radically.

There were boxes and fuel cans all over the decks of both boats. We knew that one of us would have to run back for the truck while the other two quickly began to unload the boats. I went to grab the keys to take off running, leaving the guys for the heavy work. I would have probably gotten away with it too if I had just kept my fool mouth shut when Scott resisted just a bit.

"Come on, what trouble could I possibly get into between here and the truck?" Scott and Bob looked at each other with identical expressions and then Scott gave the keys to Bob. Grrr.

It didn't take long to see that we needed to unload the listing boat first, starting at the corner that was sitting deepest into the water. Box after box was shoved onto the dock. Some of them were too heavy for me so I just grabbed what I could and when there was nothing left that I could lift on that boat I stepped into the standing water in the other boat and continued on there.

Scott and Bob actually had to move most of the boxes. They were full of cans … mostly food but there were also cases of ammo though nothing to get too excited about. Most of them were reloads (this according to Bob) and were low calibers (this according to Scott). To me they were all just bullets but when I say that the men all give me this … this look like I've said something inexcusably rude. At least I've learned those things that you hook into the guns where the ammo goes are called "magazines" and not "clips." Making that mistake usually drew a long and involved lecture that would all but put me to sleep on my feet. Geez, they are so sensitive about that stuff.

Not all of the boxes and junk would fit into the bed of the truck but we solved that by finding a boat on a trailer in one of the nearby houses and hooking it up to our hitch. I wound up carrying most of my plants in my lap all the way back to Sanctuary where they were waiting for us at the gate to help unload.

We were a couple of hours later than we had intended and were famished. Grabbing a quick bite of leftovers that had been saved back for us, I headed home to check on the kids' progress on the house. Nearly everything that I had asked had already been finished except for scrubbing the bottom cabinet under the sink and my Sarah was doing that when I walked in.

I thanked them and praised them for a job well done and then sent them all, except for Kitty, to help Dante' with unloading the boxes so that the stuff could be inventoried. I needed to get going on the gardening stuff but discovered I had pulled something in my back when I was helping to move the boxes off the boats. There was no way I could carry Kitty on my back. I would have asked Maddie to watch her but she already had Cinda in a sling and it was going to take both Sarah and Charlene to keep the other kids' helping from turning into a disaster.

I was getting frustrated until I remembered. Angus was due some payback for teaching Kitty to unscrew her sippy cup.

I put Kitty in a stroller and pushed her over to Angus. Ah ha … the man looked like he was just settling in for a nice afternoon snooze. He had a swamp cooler (a fan blowing over a piece of ice) set up next to a folding lawn chair. On a table looked to be a big cold mug of mead. Ah ha in deed.

"Oh Aaannnngggguuuusss." He took one look at me, looked at Kitty and then sighed deeply and said to the baby, "Come to visit with Uncle Angus beautiful?"

I put Kitty's sippy cup in his hand and made sure he noted that I had taped the lid shut with duct tape. All the blasted Viking did was smile sweetly. Butter wouldn't have melted in his mouth. Honestly. He was a good sport though and despite his knee he watched her until Charlene came to collect her.

I was already starting to limp a bit by the time I made it to the second garden. Pulling the garden wagon wasn't helping my back one little bit. Despite getting a late start I was able to tell everyone at dinner that we now had more fresh produce to add to the supplies and would have quite a bit more tomorrow.

Dante' reported that we had added 50 gallons of diesel fuel to our supplies as well as 5000 founds of .22lr and about the same of a bunch of miscellaneous calibers including a bunch of boxes of shotgun shells. Unfortunately most of the shotgun shells were just birdshot and not the heavier stuff we would need for bigger game or the infecteds.

I was hurting pretty good by the time dinner was over. Lucky for me I didn't have clean up duty. I told Scott I was going back to the house to clean up. Mostly I think, looking back, I was going home to sulk.

When you don't feel feminine and pretty it's nice to have a man make a fuss over you and make you feel better. Usually Scott is pretty good about figuring out my moods but last night he just didn't. It wasn't just taking a good look at myself in the mirror, it was the hair thing as well. I looked like a witch by the time I stopped to shower.

I had a good cry that didn't help one bit but to make me more embarrassed and even crankier. And when Scott came home with everyone else I snarled and snapped so much they pretty much gave me a wide berth. I don't really blame Scott for not trying to get close to me to find out what I was cranky. Had our positions been reversed I'd likely have thought twice before approaching him under similar circumstances.

Needless to say I added guilt to everything else I was feeling and barely slept at all. I even got up and moved to the sofa so my tossing and turning wouldn't wake Scott up.

When I got up this morning my head felt like it had been put on backwards but I didn't have time to indulge in my pity party any longer. It was back out to the gardens. I added the following to our inventory list: giant beefsteak tomatoes, French fingerling potatoes. Soy beans, bountiful bush beans, brittle wax beans, Cherokee wax beans, contender bush beans, golden wax beans, Armenian cucumbers, turnip greens, scallop summer squash, Caserta summer squash, straightneck summer squash.

Betty was really happy about the potatoes and fried up some to go with lunch. The soy beans are getting hulled as quickly as we can manage. I've got a whole row that I'm leaving to dry on the vine. Betty says she can use them to make soy milk and tofu. Most of the guys looked horrified at the very thought of tofu but Saen was pretty happy. Which is a good thing considering what happened later.

We added turnip greens and fried squash to the potatoes and had what felt like quite a feast. It was to celebrate how quickly that Glenn was healing. So long as he is careful he's been given the OK to be up and about. Well, ol' Glenn took that as complete freedom. Somehow or other Glenn talked Ronan and Chris into helping him go on a small "jaunt" to who knows where. It seems he left a note that he'd be back in a few days.

Ooooooo wwweeeeeee. I would not want to be in Glenn's shoes when he gets back. It is very possible that Saen will melt the ears off his head for pulling this stunt. I just hope he comes back in one piece and doesn't catch an infection or anything. Although it might be better if he did. Glenn may just find that he's pushed Saen too far this time. I don't speak Thai but whatever she has planned sounds like it could be inventive and painful.

I worked myself until I was so tired I was nauseous but I couldn't shake the feelings from yesterday. After I had cleaned the last gardening implement and put them away I took a walk over to the native grove to try and clear my head.

I hadn't been there five minutes before Scott tracked me down. We hadn't spent too much alone time together lately so he'd been on the watch out for me to get finished with the chores. To say I wasn't exactly "in the mood" would be understating it but sometimes I've found that you have to compromise. And sometimes … sometimes … if you go into it with the right attitude even if it wasn't exactly what you were looking forward to you can still find some contentment along the way.

Scott finally cued in to the fact that I wasn't feeling chipper. I told him not to worry about it. Maybe I should have said something to him but … I guess this must just be something "women of a certain age" go through. You gotta recognize you aren't 21 anymore and your body is going to change in ways you'd never prepared for. Right now I'm feeling a little betrayed which is a little .. maybe a lot … nonsensical considering it's all part of the natural aging process. Getting older never bothered me before. Maybe it's just the comparison of what used to be and what is … on so many different levels … that is getting to me.


	224. Day 266

_**Day 266 (Monday) – April 23 – Market Day**_

Another missed day of journaling but I'm feeling so fine I refuse to let it bother me. Yesterday was a Rest Day in the literal sense of the word and not just in title.

We didn't go over to Aldea but we caught Hunter's service on broadcast. The boy has talent … and insight and discernment which is even more important in my opinion. He manages to touch, raise up, and convict without destroying. I'm invariably left thinking after one of his services.

Yesterday Hunter spoke about peace. Primarily he was referring to the peace between groups and individuals but he also touched on individual peace, inner peace of the individual. Last little bit it has been difficult for me to keep both hands on my inner peace and keep it in place.

So many potentially awful things come at us these days. But … it did pre-NRS as well. Maybe NRS-infected zombies are new but if you consider "zombie" as a euphemism for all the potentially scary things that happen … the things and situations that can eat you alive … then they have been around in some form since the beginning of time.

But there's hope. We overcame many things pre-NRS. We still overcome the situations we are faced with daily. The "zombies" have multiplied and morphed into things that are more dangerous that many of us consciously faced before but we prove every day that they are conquerable. That is one heck of a personal validation.

Yes, sometimes bad things happen to good people no matter what you try and do. That's life and it's always been that way. But that brings to mind some of the things my dad used to repeat during tough situations.

This too shall pass.

People do not lack strength, they lack will.

Toughness is not being a bully, it's having backbone.

The only way to experience joy is to first experience sorrow.

The fire is how the blade is formed and strengthened.

The last few days I've been letting the fire eat me up rather than strengthen me; and over something so minor in comparison to the other things that I have already conquered. That realization helped me to begin to recover some of my equilibrium.

The quiet and boredom of yesterday helped as well. No major crisis. No new problems. No bad guys running amuck. It was just … I could breathe for a change. I wasn't going ninety to nothing and still running late. I pulled together what I wanted to take to Market Day and made a list of what we needed. I went around to everyone gathering a list of what they wanted as well.

Scott bowed out of going. He put our Rest Day to good use as well and was fired up and ready to get going with a list of projects he wanted to complete so he could scratch them off of his "to do" list. McElroy came instead of Dix. Saen came as well but went home with the contingent from Aldea. Reba came with me and brought some of her cheeses and butter … and got four marriage proposals on the spot while she was there. Dora and Theo came with us as part of Sanctuary's contingent. I was happy to have Theo since Ski wasn't too thrilled with James going. Cease and Melody came as well. Charlene said she'd preferred staying at Sanctuary. I'm not sure if it was James or the memory of the incident with the ZKK last time keeping her at home but I figured it couldn't hurt and it freed up a seat that Rose filled. Angus and Jim both came but they made up numbers for Aldea's group who were short with Glenn and the rascals that went with him gone.

There were even more people at this Market Day than last. Word has spread but OSAG was ready. A contingent from the ZKKers did show up but they behaved themselves and left as soon as they had conducted their business. McElroy said that OSAG escorted them from the area, as much for their sakes as everyone else's. We don't need people getting on a revenge trip.

We did plenty of trading and got quite a bit that had been on my list. Also set up some deals for later trades. One of those is for some alpaca and angora fur.

Jim brought over this couple he'd met on his circuit around the stalls. As soon as they introduced themselves I realized what had caught Jim's attention; they were Australian. The woman was named Kim. A little taller than me at five feet five and a half inches ("and that half inch is definitely important," she laughed). Her significant other was named Daniel … good Lord, another walking wall. He's about 5' 10" and keeps his head shaved like Ronan does. Daniel has a goatee sort of thing that only adds to the toughness look. He's gentle as a lamb with Kim but shoved a guy who wouldn't take no for an answer and the guy easily flew back six or seven feet.

Kim and Daniel are going to bring some of their work samples by tomorrow and we'll talk exchange. Kim, originally with a degree in ancient European history, has started exploiting her weaving hobby to help put food on their table. She was looking for textiles and Jim told her to talk to Reba and I about getting some raw materials. Daniel was a techie but also had a side interest in hand-to-hand combat that has come in handy more than once since they've been stranded on this side of the Pacific. Nosey woman that I am I hope to hear more of their story tomorrow.

It was while I was taking a walk around the market that I came upon a stall that hadn't been there last time. It was an open-sided type trailer set up and I just had to laugh out loud when I caught my first look at it. The woman running things said good naturedly, "Laugh if you want to, but you can't tell me they don't look a lot better after I'm finished with them."

Well, I couldn't fault her there. The young woman's name was Maya and her man's name was Jeff I think. They were running a mobile barber shop and beauty parlor. Jeff stayed pretty much in the background letting Maya do her thing but there was no doubt he was the protector. I watched him evict one guy from the line getting a trim after he'd become too obnoxious. Jeff got to them about a second before the OSAG guard did and had the guy trying to find the ground with his toes. When you are nearly six and a half feet tall it's real easy to do that.

Maya was just the opposite. As short as Saen is at five feet even she is one of those rare true Botticelli type beauties. No anemic stick figure; she was a gorgeous buxom beauty and she knew how to wear what God gave her as the old saying goes. Where she got her flair during times like these I don't know.

Her smile was infectious and I laughed despite my envy. She couldn't have been more than 23 and later admitted that it was her birthday and having everything finally beginning to fall into place with the plans that she and her husband had was a heck of a lot better than her last two birthdays had been.

I noticed there were a few women standing around who looked like they'd visited Maya's business as well. I've never been to a beauty parlor in my life. I took Scott and the boys to get their hair cut but had never done anything like that for myself. I have horrible memories of a home perm in middle school and I've avoided those types of things ever since. But for some reason I wanted a little primping. Okay, I know the reason but it isn't something you want to admit to even in your own journal.

While I was wondering how much she would charge Rose came up behind me and started egging me on. "Come on Mom, you know you want to."

I chickened out however and waved before I quickly went to give Reba a chance to walk around. Rose just wouldn't let it go though. Next thing I knew she had gone over and asked Maya how much she would charge for a trim and a dye job. I could have strangled that girl. But … well … when Reba laughed and said, "Honey, you don't think the color on my head is natural do you?" I decided to just go for it.

I was pretty sure Scott wouldn't have a hissy fit but just to be on the safe side I just asked her to give me a blunt cut that trimmed off the dead ends. After she asked me to take my hair down so she could get a look at it things got real quiet. I guess even those from Sanctuary don't know how long my hair really is. It grows really fast and since I hadn't been trimming it as often as I used to the longest locks could be stretched out so that the tips were about six inches below my butt.

"Oh my, have you ever had your hair cut?"

Yes, actually I have, but never shorter than between my shoulder blades and that was many, many moons ago when my cousin accidentally got his chewing gum in my hair and not even peanut butter or gasoline would get it out.

She had to trim a good seven or eight inches off to get all the dry and broken ends off but that still left me with hair that fell well below my natural waist line. Rather than an actual dye she used a rinse on my hair that would gradually fade after several washings which would save me having really harsh and obvious roots. After my hair dried, Rose French-braided my hair and they both convinced me to leave it down for a while.

Then Reba came over and they started talking about henna and natural make up products and I don't know what all. When I took the trouble I would put on mascara, lip gloss, and a natural powder on my face. What they were talking about sounded like a science experiment to me. Rose loved it and Melody happily added her two cents as well.

Thanks to Rose and Melody we have a ton of hair junk in storage … creams, gels, sculpting goop, perms, dyes, etc. etc. etc. Maya said that they might be up our way in a week or so and if they are we might could trade some of her services for some of our hair gunk. Might not be a bad idea. I watched Angus hiding from Maya all market day. He's as bad as Sampson (Biblical version, not the raider) was about his hair. He even braids his beard and has it tied off with a piece of leather string. That doesn't change the fact that his ends could use a trim.

Clean up was fairly easy but saying good bye to new acquaintances was not. These days you never know if the last time you see someone is the last time you'll ever see them.

Back home we received the requisite hugs and kisses upon our return. I got lots of ooohs and aaaahs about my hair. Even Dix managed to notice and give a grunt. But Scott didn't say anything until we had gone into the house to clean up dinner.

I finally got frustrated and just asked him flat out what he thought of it. He got a little uncomfortable look on his face. "Well, if you like it I guess it's nice." Before I could get upset however got one of those manly kind of pouts and continued, "But I liked you the other way better. Why'd you go and cut your hair and put that stuff in it. Now you look like Rose and … and … Melody said some guys at the market were looking at you. And I wasn't there so how'd they know you didn't already have a man? And I heard that Reba got a bunch of marriage proposals and … "

Scott's voice was going from quiet manly pout to an irritated growl when I stopped him with a big fat kiss. All I needed to hear was that he'd like me just fine without all the fuss and bother with my hair. The little bit of jealousy he was exhibiting was kinda nice too. I wouldn't want a steady diet of it – men like that turn me off big time – but it did kind of tickle me a bit to know that he could still think some man would be looking at me like that.

We were late for dinner. You guess why.

After dinner we were going to go for a romantic moonlit walk but the skeeters were so bad that it went from romantic to running back to the house in five seconds flat. We kind of laughed about it. The run had caused my hair to come out of its braid so Scott helped me to finish unbraiding it then he helped me to brush my mop out. He hadn't done that in years; since I was pregnant with Johnnie and too miserable to move.

It was too hot to have my hair down long and Scott was really tired but it was so nice that he had taken the time to do that. I got all mushy and just about cried. I think Scott finally cued in that he might have been overlooking some things that needed saying or doing. It's nice to be a big tough woman most of the time … but there are private moments that I'd just as soon leave my She-Ra persona in the closet and cuddle up and be fussed over myself.

Which I kinda had planned on tonight but since I can hear poor Scott snoring on the chaise lounge out on the lanai I guess I'll be giving that a pass. Scott has been working like a dog all day today replacing shingles, recaulking windows, and running wires, fans, and solar panels so we can have some help with the heat and damp at night to make it easier to sleep. He had even started looking at some plans that Glenn had talked to him about where they could get some washing machines lined up so we wouldn't have to work so hard on Wash Days. Wouldn't that be a dream come true?

So I'll go pry him out of his doze and we'll head off to bed for the night. Before I go off to sleep I'll say a prayer for the new friends we met today and hopefully I'll see them again before too long. I really do want to make sure Maya knows how much I appreciate the trim and rinse on my hair; made me feel like a new woman. Here's hoping she had a nice birthday.


	225. Day 267

_**Day 267 (Tuesday) – April 24**_

As the work piles on higher and deeper it begins to get more difficult to keep a "daily" journal yet that seems to be when I need to write it all out even more. Catch-22. I worked from before sun up to past sun down and I still wasn't able to finish everything that needed to be done.

I sincerely hope that this washing machine rig that Scott and Glenn came up with will actually work. Scott is gathering parts for it now. It may be this coming Monday or next Monday – Wash Day – before he can get it set up. He's snowed under with work as well and the associated paperwork to keep track of what was done and when. Some folks think that he is crazy to continue keeping track of work orders like he did before, but Dix and Dante' have been very supportive.

And when Kim and her man came by we were able to trade some car parts that we had in excess for some of Daniel's techie kind of help. I'm relatively handy with computers but I've never built a laptop and in all honesty had never even cracked one open to look inside. Daniel hooked Scott up and even helped him to format a work order template that he could use to keep track of things. Scott will back up the files every day and print his forms out every night and file them by building or project. Or … I file them which is yet one more thing that I will have to add to my daily "to do" list.

The girls got all the washing done yesterday while I was at Market Day. It was so nice to come back to all of the cleaned, dried, and folded laundry. They did quite a bit of it too. I spent most of last night and my breaks today mending things. Unlike in the past we can't even let a small tear or hole go without mending for any length of time. It's either take care of it quickly or watch the clothes eventually fall apart with no real replacements coming in. I've packed quite a few "extras" of things away in the cedar closet but I don't like to hand them out unless there is just no way to mend a garment again.

The kids' clothes are the worst; not only do they wear out but they out grow them. Our system of having work clothes, play clothes, and regular/dress clothes has worked pretty well at making clothing replacement as moderate as possible, but it still happens. The scraps I save for patches, quilting, or for cutting down to make edging or something similar when clothes need a bit of adjusting. The denim skirts still serve all of my girls well enough though Rose covers hers with a large apron when she is working in the Clinic.

As a matter of fact most of us females have taken to wearing aprons more often than not. I have several that cover different jobs. I've got a short one that used to be a workshop apron that I fill with clothes pins when I'm hanging clothes to dry. It keeps the pins within easy reach without weighing down the clothes line itself. I've got one that looks a bit like an oversized tool belt that I have on when I'm working in the garden or on guard duty. That one is a little warm because I fashioned it out of an actual leather tool belt and some chamois bits and pieces that I sewed together. It doesn't breathe very well so it makes me sweat, but it is very durable which is what I need for carrying gardening tools, ammo, and the like. I have a heavy muslin apron that I use when I'm cooking and canning. It covers me from chest to below my knees. I've stained a lot fewer things since I started wearing it a few months back. The only place that I avoid aprons – and skirts too for that matter – is when I'm working around an open fire such as on Wash Day or when I'm burning trash that can't be put to use in some other way.

The days of the landfill and garbage barges are long gone. Before you throw something away you use it up six ways from Sunday or recycle it in some way. Very few things actually make it to our garbage burn barrel. I only have a barrel full to burn about once a month. Most things that cannot be put to immediate re-use we put into the recycling dumpsters; that would be glass, metal, drywall, etc. Anything that is wood gets cut into lengths and stored up off the ground. Building wood goes in one pile and scraps and firewood go into another. We traded some of our building materials to Mr. Choi's group in exchange for more arrows and Bob is making a pretty good income making metal arrow tips in various styles. Mr. Choi wasn't the only one interested in those tips on Market Day so we must not be the only ones beginning to ration ammo.

Nana is beginning to come around. Mr. Morris seems to be helping with that (nudge, nudge, wink, wink). I think it's sweet. Reba laughed at me when I said it. She said the last thing her father could be called is "sweet" and if Nana can put up with him she is more than welcome. I had to laugh at that point as well. Mr. Morris is one of those irascible characters that you just gotta love no matter how cranky he is. His old fashioned horse sense has been invaluable on more than one occasion.

I'm still giving most of the Cheval kids a wide berth. It's not that I don't like them or that there trouble or anything of the sort. To be honest I just don't have the time for it and knowing me I'll get wound up in their stories and then be forced to neglect some other important project.

I heard from Saen via radio that Fy has settled down quite well. She heard from Glenn but he is being secretive about his trip. Guess we'll find out what it is when he gets back. He better be hurrying that along. Saen is a strong woman but Glenn's injuries shook her worse than I think she was willing to admit to. And then for him to run off again so soon probably had her harking back to the days when he would run the gauntlet in his contractor jobs over in the Middle East.

Padric is slowly coming into his own. He doesn't panic any more when James or I are out of sight and he enjoys tagging after Scott as much as Johnny has always done. Scott's trying but Padric is a bit different from all our other boys. He's quieter and though I hate to say it is a little "sissified" compared to what Scott is used to. At least he's stopped crying at the drop of a hat. Not even my girls ever did that. He started to tune up this morning over something silly and before I gave it much thought I popped him on his behind and told him if he didn't stop it I'd give him something to cry about.

I startled myself when I did it. I hadn't thought it – that whining – was bothering me and that I was giving him time to get over a stage. I didn't let on to Padric however and after I got down in Padric's face and gave him the "Spock eyebrow" and asked him if we understood each other – upon which he gave me a quick "yes ma'am" – I walked outside to the shed and just about didn't know whether to get angry at myself or not. After I caught my equilibrium I walked back inside to find him just fine as frog's hair and doing his lessons with the other kids as if nothing had ever happened.

I shook my head and left to go to work in the garden, needing a break from darning Scott's socks yet again. James and Rose both found me there a few minutes later. It's rare they double team me but it's been known to happen. I was prepared for the worst but Rose's first words surprised me.

"Mom, you only popped him on his seat; you didn't beat him or anything. Don't get upset, he had it coming. Sis and Kitty were starting to pick up on the crying bit and having three of them doing that would have been a nightmare."

James added, "Yeah. I don't think his dad must have been around much from what he said. The kid just needs to learn. He might never be as rough as Johnny and Bubby but he had to learn he couldn't just cry like that over nothing. Charlene said … "

And the Rose in a sweet sing song voice asked, "Charlene said what?"

I thought to myself, "Oh Lord, here we go."

But James got real dignified and just said, "I've got to go to work."

Rose and I looked at each other and laughed. Poor James. I had a feeling that Rose was going to be merciless in her paybacks. He had been pretty hard on her and David there for a while. If nothing else this should teach James a thing or two about the longevity of a woman's memory.

As for the gardens, amazingly enough we're getting quite a bit of food from what I planted. The problem is I don't know if each individual plant is producing as they ought or if it's just because I planted so many of each type of plant variety. I know that cross-pollination is a healthy thing required my many plants and the open-pollinated ones especially like/need it. And it sure hasn't hurt that Mr. Morris has stuck a hive out by each garden. The bees really help and they certainly seem to enjoy the pesticide-free plants if their honey production is any measure. We've probably got enough honey to last through the rest of this year and into the winter and we still have a couple of more months of honey harvest before the hives are shut down for bee production.

Clay Jr. brought in some oh so welcome fresh meat today. He headed NE of Sanctuary looking to mark off a patch of blackberries that he had spied a few days back. Apparently the boar had charged him from out of a garage he was walking passed. It's a good thing he hadn't been gored. He brought down the boar and two sows before the rest of the herd of hogs ran off into the overgrowth. He radioed for help to bring the hogs in and sat there nervous until a crew could arrive.

He swears up and down he felt like something had just about been ready to get him when Angus, Jim, and a couple of others showed up. Angus said the boy's imagination probably wasn't running away with him. Angus, still unable to put much weight on his leg, hobbled around on the crutch Scott had made for him and found large cat scat while the others loaded the meat up to bring back to Sanctuary for butchering.

Mr. Morris looked at me with those twinkling eyes of his and asked if I'd fix up some pork chops if he cut them. Who was I to refuse? Actually I grilled them on the new AldeaFuel fired grill. In truth it sounds kinda silly to call it AldeaFuel but I'm not certain what else to call it. It's not propane and it's not biodiesel or methane. It's kinda … oh heck, I'll ask Scott later. I feel like my memory is going and I'm too young for that. I must be working too hard.

Whatever it is it works like a charm and Scott has also built us a large multi-burner cook top and griddle that is powered by that stuff. He and Bob fabricated the parts using some commercial kitchen appliances and a burner prototype that Glenn had sketched out. It kind of reminds me of a Coleman propane burner but the pipes that the flames come out of are actually in an "X" shape. If they ever upgrade to the next model I might ask them how feasible it would be for the pipes to be in the shape of an asterisk which would give the shape three cross pieces instead of the two that the "X" has. The heat would probably be more evenly distributed that way so that the actual flames wouldn't have to be turned up so high. I don't know if that would save fuel or use more of it but it's something I'd like to see at least experimented with when there is more time.

I'm worried about Iggy and the boy. Dix had thought that maybe he'd try to communicate if there was time but something must have happened to their radio. I hope nothing has happened to them. What am I saying?! I hope Baron hasn't done Iggy in, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't try.

I keep waiting for Angus to get me the rest of his trip journal but I hate to press. I know his knee was really bothering him after he got back from the hog pick up. Ski says it might be weather related. Injuries like Angus' tend to leave a permanent mark on their victim, including being able to predict the weather by the twinges they get. I asked Ski how on earth he could believe in that and still look cross-eyed at some of my home remedies. He never did give me an answer.

Patricia and baby Josie made an appearance at dinner tonight. You would have thought Jack was the biological father of that baby the way he acted. I guess you never know. Patricia is certainly a different woman. Thinner though not as gaunt as she was. Gone is the boardroom executive with the $200 haircut and dye job that's for sure. Dix was looking at her with Jack and the baby almost wistfully. I don't think he realized how transparent he was.

I had asked Saen about whether Cindy was ever considering a move back to Sanctuary and she meant that if I was asking whether Cindy was still seeing Dix then the answer was no. Poor Dix. He's lost a lot in the last eight months. At least he and Samuel seem to have a much closer relationship though. And it's a credit to the boy that he doesn't appear to be the least bit jealous of his little half-sister. He scared to death of picking her up … she is still very, very tiny … but he grins when she tries to grab his fingers.

And the baby boom just continues. Becky is officially passed the 20 week mark and Terra reports that she's doing just fine and that her morning sickness is finally letting up. And I suspect we are going to have interesting news from Rilla and possibly Melody soon. Both of them looked a little off their paces at breakfast this morning. The young girl Bobby is a bit high strung but is OK enough. She, Patricia, and Rhonda have been telling their "war stories" and when they start up all the men run for cover or get a little green around the gills. It's nothing new to me but every once in a while I still get a hankering to feel a baby in my belly … until Kitty's alarm clock goes off before I'm ready to get up or when everyone runs off when a dirty diaper needs a change. Oh well, that's life. Everything happens in cycles and it seems soon enough I'll have enough "nieces and nephews" to cuddle, spoil, and then give back. I just hope it's a while before I'm a grandma.

I hope that rain Angus' knee is predicting will hold off one more day. I need to dig the potatoes tomorrow. If I leave them in the ground any longer they are going to spoil or get eaten by varmints. I've got nearly a half-acre that needs to be dug and then the potatoes need to be laid out on tarps out of the weather until I can get them processed. I'm going to can some and dry some. We're going to try and bag some up for seed potatoes for next season and pray they last. I'm also going to bag some up and see if I can keep them fresh; that would be a nice change from having to use everything canned or dried. And if I do manage to get the potatoes dug with all the kids helping Betty and I have planned a treat for them … potato chips.

Going through some of the gadgets and gizmos in our storage units she came across a couple of those spiral slicers; the ones you just poke into one end of a veggie and then turn leaving you with a slinky spiral kind of thing. Well, we'll heat a cauldron of vegetable oil and fries those spirals just like they do at the state and county fairs. The kids'll love it. Some of the grown up kids will probably eat their fair share as well.

And with that I'm off to bed. I like looking in the mirror better than I have but I better beware of making a habit of it. The gray will be back before I know it. I'm getting a kick out of while it does last if you want to know the truth. Scott is just happy that I'm happier though he still grumbles a bit that I didn't ask him about doing it first.

Jeff and Maya radioed and apologized but it was going to be a few days before they would be by and that they would radio us when they were in the area. Methinks they might want to check us out before risking coming into our territory. Jeff strikes me as the careful type. Oh well, he'll either get comfortable or he won't. We'll find out eventually. But Reba has been hunting up all the different hair dyes and such that she can find in storage. Several of the women have been wondering how much she would trade for a style. Angus is making plans to hide out for a few days I think; could have been Nana asking him when was the last time he'd had a haircut.


	226. Day 268

_**Day 268 (Wednesday) – April 25 – Water Day**_

Praise be! Word from both Glenn and Iggy today. Well, some good news and some bad … seems like you never get the good that you don't also get the bad but, well, let's say more good than bad and I'm fine with that.

Today was Water Day but to be honest its mostly just maintenance for us rather than an actual necessity as it has been in the past. Thank goodness for Bob. Scott was just plain going nuts trying to jury rig and fabricate things to get by on. With Bob around some real work gets done. Oh not that work didn't get done before, but it had to be done on a wing and a prayer the long way around. Now they can make what they need from scratch. Between Scott, Glenn, and Bob the Triune (and our allies) are much better off than quite a few others are.

Bekah came running midmorning and she had a copy of a radio transmission that Iggy had made. Bekah said he sounded tired. Here it is the copy she made.

 ** _Choices and the bad ones we make. Sometimes we make the smart ones, sometimes we make the dumb ones, and hopefully we learn from those. B might not get that chance. I finally thought he fell asleep and closed my eyes... he ran on me. The boy is out there, somewhere, alone. I dunno why he ran, or what he thought this was, but now I have to go find a scared boy that doesn't want to be found in the rubble that used to be Florida. I am no tracker, but this kid is no woodsman either, so at least I got that going for me. On the down side, with the noise he makes, he might be dead by the time I find him... or maybe he brings down some attention on us we both don't live through. - Iggy_**

Oh Baron, what have you done now? Despite it all I still feel some sympathy for the kid. Iggy puts a different spin on his behavior. He said he used to be that kid until someone knocked some sense into him. I want to believe that Baron is "salvageable" but I wonder if we'll get that chance.

Glenn's update wasn't too far behind Iggy's. I don't know what all is going on but I have a feeling that Glenn has something serious up his sleeve. Out of a lot of our community members he's one that's not satisfied with returning to the Dark Ages. He wants to rebuild our lives, not relive the past. Not that it is any secret but Glenn's sympathies lie with The Independent Constitutionalists; at least so long as the constitution they refer to is The Constitution. Scott and Glenn are very, very similar in that respect. David is too but in all honesty James is even more militant about it that the men are.

Scott and James like to reference history quotations when they debate … and Scott dares to blame me for James tendency to argue about everything. Of course it isn't an "argument" but a debate or a discussion. Yeah, if I had a nickel for every "discussion" I've had with those two I'd have been a rich woman well prior to NRS. Now they've got the other kids doing it … quoting historical personalities to support their position on things. Nothing can give you the heebie jeebies quite as well as having a five year old quote Benjamin Franklin at you. Ugh.

Anyway, before Glenn left on his big mysterious trip he and Scott were having one of their "what if" pow wows. One of the quotes I overheard was one by George Washington, "To be prepared for war is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace." Oh boy. I can't honestly say for sure but I have a funny feeling that Glenn and Scott did some serious brainstorming and at some time during the night Glenn must have come up with some ideas.

Now whether Scott and Dix know for sure what is going on I can't say but they've put some of their other building projects on hold and suddenly started clearing out that area that we never fenced off that made up Tiffany Lakes subdivision. It's against the south Wall set back into that jag into the rectangle that makes up the entire Wall. The subdivision … or what remains of it … is to the west of what we now call the Rear Gate and to the north of the bump out in the Wall where the animal enclosure is.

I overheard Scott and Dix talking. I know – naughty, naughty – but I think Scott actually allows me to overhear things sometimes so I'll know but so that he doesn't have to say he is the one that told me. Nice logic. And I know it works because I've done the same thing with him. What they were saying doesn't make particular sense to me yet but I'm adding it to a mental file I'm keeping and once I get enough pieces hopefully it will make total sense.

Basically they are turning the Tiffany Lakes subdivision into a "skunkworks." Please tell me that something smelly isn't going to be put together there. We've got enough smelly stuff going on but if it is at least it will be next to the animals and not next to the house. Whatever they are doing will require the water in the canal that runs through Tiffany Lakes.

Scott, Dix, Jack, and a couple of guys from OSAG spent most of the day just bulldozing what little bit of debris remained in that little area. They just hauled the loader buckets of stuff off into the overgrowth on the other side of the highway and dumped it there in a flat-topped pile. Scott said they'll eventually burn the pile over. It was the guys from OSAG coming to help that really made me go "hmmmmm." So whatever it is, it will affect or is for the whole Triune.

Grrrrrr. I wish Scott would just come right out and tell me but I can't just ask. If I ask and he tells me "no" that he can't tell me then that wouldn't be too cool. However, if I can scrape together some facts and then add two and two together to come up with a reasonable facsimile of four then they might tell me. At least that's my strategy for now.

What's also made me wonder is that Scott said that they'd use that area as the "skunkworks" so long as there weren't too many problems. If would be convenient to guard and for any extra provisions as needed however they'd have to do something about the guard walk on top of the Wall. That means that they don't want everyone knowing what is going on in that area. They are also looking at a likely area near Aldea though it would require messing up a lot of trees and becoming way to obvious from the air. There is also another possible work area between Sanctuary and Aldea off of Livingston Avenue at the Interstate I75 overpass. The problem with building anything away from any of our settlements means that we are going to have to split our guards yet again and Dix and Matlock are pretty much opposed to doing that any further.

Angus and Jim must know what is going on because I haven't seen Angus this peppy since before his knee was injured. Of course it could have been that Scott rigged up an "elevator" of sorts so that Angus could get up to the top of the Wall and work guard duty again. The elevator is actually more like a dumbwaiter, only heavy-duty enough that it can handle about 300 pounds in weight. It's how we had been getting supplies to the top of the Wall, all Scott did was rig it so that it was kind of like a ski lift … only instead of being a sky ride it goes up and down.

Speaking of Angus, he gave me the next couple of day's journals from his "sightseeing tour."

* * *

 ** _Sightseeing Part Three_**

 ** _Well I got something running but not what I would have liked. It's a suburban so it has some size and cargo room but it's in terrible shape. The clutch is shot to hell and it takes forever to warm up but it was one of the only two we found to start; the other is some kind of jap import. Jim took the car and headed to see if he could catch something to eat for tonight and I took a slower survey of the area to see what's around here. I'm still not happy about the area as something has me on edge. Scrappy hasn't shown any indication that something is up around here, but the mule gets nervous once and a while. Most of the place looks like the fire didn't get in here as the buildings are burn free._**

 ** _I see in every home I stop at that it's been stripped clean of anything of use, I only stop every once in a while as I haven't found one untouched yet and all that stop and go is useless. This is a surveying trip not a supply one but I have been picking up something. Jim was talking about our last birthday celebration and overhearing Scott saying something about the girls and not having makeup for them? He wasn't really sure about the topic as that was about the time Sissy caught one of the little ones taking a sip out of Jim's mug when he wasn't watching and he had to run for it._**

 ** _Anyhow it popped into my head as I was passing through one of the bedrooms in the last home I was in when I saw some makeup stuff on a table. I have absolutely no idea what any of this stuff is or what women do with it, but I threw a bunch of the stuff into a purse that was in the closet for the girls. I think I might keep doing it till I can fill a small backpack with it. There's no extra space for stuff with the animals, but I think one small backpack of girlie stuff will fit._**

 ** _Around mid-day I was coming out of a gas station I had gone into and saw the first shambler in a while heading my way. It wasn't a very long dead one either. Jim and I had talked it through and had decided to try to keep the gun fire to a bare minimum as it announced are presence so I reached for me club. My hand gripped the handle of a hammer where me club used to be. I'm still trying to remember I switched the club for the hammer before I left. One of the puppies had chewed the end of the shillelagh's handle and in repairing it had to cut 2 inches off it. Then it didn't feel right so I took one of Scott's 2 pound sledgehammers and cut the handle down till the whole thing was 18 inches long and felt good on the swing. The shillelagh I cleaned up and painted pink with some paint Bekah found for me and wrapped it up all nice in a gift box (with Bekah's help) and left it as a gift to Rose. The card in the box said "dating accessory."_** ** _I noticed her and David walking hand in hand again before we left._**

 ** _So with the hammer in hand I walked out to meet the shambler and gave the hammer its first test. I like it! On my way back at the end of the day I noticed a cleared area behind one of the houses and stopped to investigate. Because the fire didn't burn through here all the tall grasses and shrubs are still going strong but there was a cleared spot in this backyard. When I got there I found a pair of antlers (don't know from what) and a lot of hair scattered about. The animal hoofs where there as well. No other sign, but it wasn't that old as the hair would have blown away after a while. The only critter I know that eats everything is the hyena. We haven't heard any or see them but that might be the faint smell the mule and I didn't like. This means I have to do a lot more thinking. Hyenas like lions stay in a home range even when the food isn't plentiful. If it runs out completely they move but for the most part they stay put. I have to wonder if this is a different set of animals or the same ones we had up north? Have to house the animals inside from now on._**

 ** _I took pity on Jim and brought back 4 different kinds of soap and some aftershave yesterday. On his side he found some extra clothes and spent hours last night boiling water from a nearby creek and filling a tub in the house next to where we are camped. He smells much better now and said he hopes he never has to wear a kilt again. We had some bass that Jim caught and to go with it we had a few onions that he found still growing in a small garden. They were pretty small but with them and one of the potatoes we brought with us it made a stew we didn't complain about._**

 ** _Jim had a few things to say about the gators again. He told me that two six footers came over as soon as he started to do his fishing. They didn't sneak up but just swam over and came right out of the water. Jim said he was waving his arms and hollering at them as he backed up but they just tried to walk up to him. Jim said they followed him back to his car and acted like this was a regular way to do things. I wonder if the gators here have learned to come out of the water to grab zombies for food? Something that didn't click with me at first came to me when I was bitching to Jim about that shit jeep. He had said it wasn't like we had a lot to pick from. So where are all the vehicles? In this area there are not that many cars and trucks sitting around like you find in most areas. In the morning we intend to head farther west for a while and then south again. The animals have had a good time on the grasses here abouts and are ready to hit the trail again._**

 ** _We left before first light and made a slow ride to the house we saw the night before. Getting through the industrial park was a lot of back tracking with all the fencing around some of the buildings. Had a couple of shamblers within the complex that showed interest in us and I told Jim I didn't want any gun fire till we knew more about the house we were headed to. So Jim took the long handled shovel off the mule and worked on his zombie bashing technique. He was very efficient with that shovel but, with the curve of the thing it makes the swinging that he prefers a little difficult. What came to my mind was one of those ditch clearing billhooks. I think he might really like one of those._**

 ** _So when we came into sight of the house we just took a seat and started watching. The house was pretty easy to distinguish between the rest of the homes in the little development. It was maintained and had a shit load of solar panels set up in the back yards of two houses. The development itself had a iron fence going around most from what we could see from our approach. It didn't stop much as parts where knocked down and missing in some places. We could see where some of the fencing had gone, around the house of lights and the two on either side of it._**

 ** _The odd thing was there wasn't anything except the fence, nothing solid to reinforce to help with mass's pressing against it. Another thing that was obvious was that there was a lot of vehicle traffic through here. The roads are very over grown but the one that goes in front of this one is kept clear from the vehicles. Two hours after sun up we saw our first person. He came out of the middle home and climbed a ladder on the next house over. On the roof there was a spotting scope set up and he spent the next hour surveying his area. He seemed to spend more time watching in the direction of the industrial park than anywhere else._**

 ** _At that I asked Jim and Scrappy to check our back trail because if this guy was worried about something behind us I was too. By mid-day Jim had come back to report nothing on our back trail. He had found a good vantage point of the park and saw nothing except two more zombies that didn't see him. Jim and I didn't think there were more (or hoped) people as this one man was all that we had seen to that point. I still didn't like the implications of the traffic but we saddled up and made an open approach to the house._**

 ** _At the gate we still hadn't been seen and could see the man working in a garden between two of the homes. I hollered out a hello and the guy lost his hoe on the back swing when he jumped. He just stood there staring at us for a minute and then waved and said "hello" As he was walking to the gate Jim leaned over the fence to look down the side of the house, and threw himself backwards off his horse with a woof sound. He was laying there with his eyes bugged out and his teeth clenched not moving. I threw myself off the right side of the horse pulling my shotgun out as I fell. Jim's horse took off at a run and I had no idea what was going on._**

 ** _I didn't know if this was a trap the man in front of me was going to get both barrels. Jim was trying to talk but still wasn't moving. The man was crouched down with his hands over his head yelling don't shoot. Before I could even form a question the man pointed to Jim and said "the fence is electric."_** ** _I looked at Jim and he was starting to sit up and was blinking a lot. He looked over at me and all he said was "that hurt."_** ** _The man came to the fence and removed an insulated hook by a plastic looking handle from the fence and opened the gate. He apologized about the fence and told us he was so shocked to see us that he forgot to warn us. By this time Jim's horse had wandered back to us and we were invited in._**

* * *

I swear those two men can find trouble in a convent. Hmmm, maybe that wasn't a good example. More than likely they would be the cause of trouble in a convent. Whatever. I'm actually glad I didn't know some of this until after the fact. Angus and Jim are both so "larger than life" that it is easy to forget that they are just regular men and not the protagonists in a Tall Tale. The loss of either man would leave a huge gaping wound in our family and our community. I know one day Jim hopes to go back to his home in Australia but I want him in one piece so that he gets that chance. He's got a picture that he has almost worn out of a certain young woman. I … I don't know what to hope for him but peace would be a start.

Angus too. I know sometimes something gets to him. Memories of home, maybe of those he didn't get a chance to be with as he was off exploring the world when things got crazy. Sometimes I feel that way too. I wonder if Mom and Dad would still be with us if we had been with them when things went crazy. Could we have reached them in time? Or did things happen so quickly that there is no way that we could have brought them to our home. I guess I'll never know. It will take me a long time to stop wondering however. The fate of my brother and nephews still weighs on my mind as well.

Steve isn't the only one broadcasting these days. You run up and down the dial and you can find all sorts of crazy things on. It's all sporadic and most of the time you don't know what to believe. The government is also broadcasting; some useful information like boiling water, weather predictions, and that sort of thing but also some potential disinformation like the Orphan Trains, the plans for a new US Census, and now this thing they've got out which is like a big database of missing persons.

I wish I knew if the database is legitimate or not, I'd like to see if my brother is looking for me or if my nephews are on the orphan list. But apparently, from what I heard at Market Day, you have to give out a lot of personal information – in the guise of seeing whether you are a legitimate claimant to the info or not – before they'll ever release anything to you. And, what really makes me leery, is that they are asking for information on neighbors and community members. That's too much like asking for a service rather than providing a service. Reminds me forcefully of the past when different administrations would to ask citizens to begin informing on people with different ideological and/or political positions than what their political party and/or administration wanted propounded. Crazy. It's too close to the way the Communist Party snitches used to work. It was a total negation of the Right to Privacy and Free Speech and other standard rules of law as well. I sure won't help the NRSC … or The Independent Constitutionalists for that matter … start those awful "black ball lists" and "enemies lists."

To bring myself back on topic I guess I should note everything that we've been harvesting lately and then I think I'm going to toddle off to bed.

Let's see, looking at the report I made out for Dante' we brought in black beauty heirloom eggplants, Thai Green heirloom eggplants, banana melons, charentais melons, honey rock melons, Jenny Lind honeydews, orange bell peppers, chiltepin hot peppers, red chili peppers, tabasco hot peppers, German green tomatoes, box car willie tomatoes, pink brandywine tomatoes, red brandywine tomatoes, Cherokee purple tomatoes, golden girl tomatoes, Dutchman tomatoes (pink, large), purple ball tomatoes (pink), garden peach tomatoes, golden queen yellow tomatoes, great white tomatoes, green zebra tomatoes, homestead tomatoes, pink oxheart tomatoes, purple Russian tomatoes, roma tomatoes, tiffin Mennonite tomatoes, tigerella tomatoes, yellow pear tomatoes, crimson sweet watermelons, blue ribbon striped watermelons, Navajo watermelons, sweet princess watermelons, dark green zucchini summer squash, Charleston grey watermelons, tendercrop bush beans, top crop bush beans, golden zucchini summer squash, white patty pan summer squash, and a crap load of potatoes.

When the guys asked me if I knew how to make Tabasco sauce I told them yes. You would have thought I'd told them I could turn mud into beer or something. I got the original recipe from a 1947 Ball Blue Book. I hope all of those books I have survive. It took me a lifetime to collect them, multiple lifetimes if you count the ones that I inherited from my mother, aunts, grandmothers, etc.

 ** _1947 Tabasco Sauce Recipe_**

 _36 Tabasco peppers - or other long hot red peppers  
1 clove garlic  
1 tablespoon sugar  
½ teaspoon salt  
1 teaspoon horseradish  
1 cup hot vinegar  
1 cup water _

_Add water to the peppers and garlic. Cook in a medium pan until tender, then press through fine sieve. Add all other ingredients and simmer until blended. Pour into hot ball jars; seal at once. The sauce may be thinned - as used - with either vinegar or salad oil._ _From: The Ball Blue Book Vol. X, 1947_

I also know how to ferment Tabasco peppers so that they eventually turn into hot sauce. You need a half gallon of fresh Tabasco peppers and half a cup of kosher salt. First you mash up the peppers and put them in a non-metallic container. Then you sprinkle the salt over the top of the mash – do not stir. Cover loosely so that the fermenting gases can escape – trust me, you don't want to have to clean up a big exploded jar of peppers. Don't ask me how I come by this insight. You leave the mashed up peppers in a cool, dark place for six months then you stir and strain through a fine mesh strainer so that you get the pulp and juice but none of the skin and seeds. Return the seeds and skins to container with water equal to half their volume. Stir and strain again. Put strained liquid with originally strained liquid into a clean container and again cover loosely to allow fermentation to complete. In about two weeks, it is ready. That's some kinda hot stuff if you can stand to eat it.

I said I was going to go to bed but I just had to mention also that we've had a fairly decent potato harvest. We have them all laid out on tarps under heavy mesh to keep varmints from getting to them. We've already started processing them as quickly as we can. Tomorrow I'm going to try and harvest a few plants of the fingerling potatoes, those will be wonderful done up in a "everything but the kitchen sink" mashed potatoes.

Oh, and the other thing is that James and Tris brought in a cow they found that had an off-season calf. They were wandering around in the overgrowth where they had gone hunting for quail and doves to bring back home to try and raise with the birds we already have. The way things are going we know we are going to need to grow our own meat sooner rather than later. The heifer looks kind of like a Brown Swiss (they are actually kind of gray) but her calf looks like it has some brahma in it. We have plenty of brahma bulls around this area so I'm not surprised.

What is good is that seeing as how her calf looks like a crossbreed the heifer can't be too particular. One of our beef heifers has lost two calves already and Austin says she might be too narrow in the hips to birth a live calf even if she did carry to term. She is also pretty dad gum particular when it comes to the bulls getting near her. We are going to swap out the new heifer and calf and then cull and butcher the one we are having problems with. I know it sounds cruel but such is a farmer's life. Problem animals have to be taken out of the gene pool before their bad traits can be passed down to the next generation; and before they consume valuable fodder that could be better spent on other animals.

Tomorrow they are going to do the butchering and I expect it will be a messy job. They've just finished butchering those hogs. But, the smokehouse now has something in it and the cooler is full of meat that needs to be ground and turned into sausages as well as some fresh cuts of meat that need to be preserved. The whole beef will also help us replace all the beef jerky we've used and give us hamburger which we will extend even further using the TVP we still have great gobs of. But like a lot of other things we have TVP is not a renewable resource because it is made by extruding soy bean flour through a special machine at very high pressure and temperature. Tofu we can make and I'll need to write the directions down over the next couple of days.

Note to self: whenever you want men and children to try something new, work them very hard and keep them on short rations until you are ready for them to give the new item to try. They'll be so hungry that they'll eat whatever you put in front of them. They might grump a bit but they'll still eat it. I'll have to write down how I got Scott and Angus to eat eggplant the other day. They was so hungry they were eating it before they realized what it was. I have a feeling I have some paybacks coming for that one.


	227. Day 269

_**Day 269 (Thursday) – April 26 – Food Prep Day**_

Ahhhh, my aching back. I was on my feet most of the day. Not that I'm not usually on my feet most of the day these days but for some reason it just feels worse than it normally does. Could have been all of the up and down while I was picking beans.

I've started using a little pull behind when I'm harvesting. Next season I might spread the rows out just a bit so that the wagon fits a little better or I'll have Scott build me a wagon that fits better as a pull behind in my existing row width. But it is going to have to be one that is heavy duty and yet easy to clean and light enough for me to pull when it is loaded. Maybe Bob can fabricate a cage and Scott can fit it onto a chassis that uses those big wheels that those three-wheeled baby strollers used to be built with. Something that won't sink too far into the sand when it is loaded would be nice.

Ran the cultivator a bit today. Bob did something fun as a favor … and frankly to see if he could. He and Conrad took a four wheeler and converted it to run on AldeaFuel (aka Hydrogen). Then Bob changed the hitches on some of the pull behind implements that I used with the golf cart. Wow, what a difference. The four-wheeler has more traction and power than the golf cart and also sits higher. Now if I can just keep James, Tris, and Samuel off of it. They think it is "totally cool." But I have to be careful. The four wheelers don't pop up as much as the three-wheelers used to but you can still get caught off guard it you hit a root with the discing or plow apparatus. I did that once and like to have scared myself to death. I won't let the younger kids on it without helmets and not at all if I'm pulling anything.

With the increased rain amount comes the increased weed growth which means increased cultivation runs. Only ran it between the rows today; tomorrow I'll hoe between the plants. Next season I'm definitely going to have to think of a better system for keeping hoeing and cultivating down to a minimum. Scott has saved back some roofing paper for me but I'm not real sure about putting that stuff around the plants. I might use it to line the walks for the new herb and shrubby gardens that I'm planning. If the paper will work … I'm trying a little bit to make sure nothing on it spoils the soil underneath … then I'll layer either gravel or mulch over the top for a decorative effect.

Today was kind of fun. I got to introduce several of the Aldea and OSAG women that came over to some of my food preservation recipes. Who knows what tomorrow brings and I really want to make sure that I pass along every bit of knowledge I have to multiple sources. That way if I never get a chance to teach my girls there will still be someone around to do it in my place. Scott gets really angry when I say things like that. I think some of that is a leftover of when I was stuck in the attic with the boys. It seems a lifetime ago but it was less than a year. I knew at the time it would take a while for him to heal so I shouldn't be surprised. At least I'm slowly breaking the bars on the gilded cage; but the scare with the zombies the other day didn't help my cause any and now I have to have a watch dog (aka one of the teen boys) as a guard if I step a toe outside of the Wall.

Once we put away breakfast we went to work on the melons. Of course we definitely did more pickled rind and the other watermelon jams and jellies. I also made watermelon chips for the kids which is basically where you take watermelon fruit leather and let it dry to the crispy-critter stage. Then you break it into big pieces. It's practically a candy and there was enough for everyone to have a taste if they wanted it. We also made watermelon honey which is kind of a preserve but I had forgotten how much sugar it used. For ten pounds of watermelon flesh you need ten pounds of sugar; you also need a quarter pound of ginger and two lemons. You cook all this down and then you process it. I always did it in my smallest jelly jars as a little goes a long way.

One of the goofier things we tried was frying watermelon rind because someone said they had seen it at a fair one time. Instead of a flour batter we used one made of corn meal. Not too shabby if I do say so but I wouldn't want a steady diet of it. The fresh watermelon salsa we made went over better at lunch. I'll have to fix more fruit based salsas. The mixture of the sweet and the hot is just really, really good.

We also made cantaloupe preserves. Again, I like this but a little goes a long way for me so we canned it in the smaller jelly jars rather than in the pint size jars. And this brings up another problem we are having. I thought for sure we would have more jars than we could ever use but that's not the case. On the other hand Glenn made an unexpected find while looking for something else in some warehouse area. I'll have to mention that later but suffice it to say that if I can figure out how to make the lids seal on the jars he found he'll have done us all a real service.

While we were working on the pickled cantaloupe we made several cantaloupe pies. They are very easy to do and helped spread out the food from the extra mouths we were hosting. First you mix two tablespoons of flour with one cup sugar, then cream with ¼ cup butter and two eggs. Next stir in two cups of cooked and mashed cantaloupe. Add a pinch of salt. Then you line a pie pan with plain pastry dough and bake until half done in moderate oven. Cook the sugar, butter, and egg mixture until it begins to thicken. Add one teaspoon vanilla, then pour into half-baked shell and bake in moderate oven until golden brown. It's a little different but I didn't hear any complaints and it used the melons up before they spoiled. The greater variety of ways that we can use each food, the more chances we will have to fill in holes when they occur … not if but when they occur. For instance, not too long ago I was sick of citrus fruit but now that there isn't many fresh oranges to be found and we have to ration them seems like all I want is an orange. I'm sure that just as soon as I get tired of melons, the melons will run out and I'll start craving them. Humans are such silly creatures.

Mr. Morris finished up another honey harvest and it is so thrilling to see all of those jars of honey in the Storehouse. I could really wish that the Storehouse was bigger but it's barely manageable as is. I don't want to turn into the rich man who thinks he needs to build more barns and silos to house his riches only to wake up the next morning to find them burned to the ground with all his wealth inside. No, rather than take an unnecessary chance it is better to keep what we have and then spread things out between Aldea and OSAG; whatever remains can go into the trading pipeline with our satellite communities getting first dibs.

Mr. Morris has several batches of watermelon wine going. Phew, some days when he is racking and bottling I tell you you can get tipsy just going to close to their house. My word! Angus helps him on occasion but he still likes his mead best.

Speaking of Angus, I'm a little worried about him. He's really slowed down since the injury to his knee. Oh I don't mean anything in a too awful way but … well … he seems more … hmmm … content to stay in one place maybe. Not that he isn't as busy as he was before; quite the contrary. Scott has had to put off working on our school because he simply hasn't had the time for it. Well, from what I understand Angus has volunteered to take that over. Scott says that Angus is probably the best man for the job since he is so close to the kids anyway … I'm thinking it's because he understands how they think and the kind of shenanigans they could get up to and what to do to keep the shenanigans from getting dangerous.

Angus is going to work on the down stairs rooms first as that is where the preschoolers and elementary kids are going to work. The upstairs will be for the tweens and teens so those rooms can wait until his knee is better. What I like is that Angus apparently has some ideas of bringing some of the outdoors in so the kids don't feel claustrophobic and that the place will be high interest which will keep the kids engaged in learning the basics as well as all of the stuff they need to learn outside of a traditional classroom. Its proving a challenge for us to get some of the kids to understand that the basics are the building blocks they need to really exploit all of those other skill sets they are learning outside of class time.

Back to the food preserving. Of course we did all of the tomato stuff that we've been doing all along but this time the women took their own preserves back with them. Betty says that she still has another two or three days solid of working on the tomatoes for sauces, juice, etc. so I need to make sure and leave my girls time to come over and help. Shorty might be bringing one or two of her daughters back over but nothing is written in stone. I think the daughter that is really into cooking is finding food preservation fascinating, especially now that she realizes it doesn't have to be simply basics like plain canned veggies.

For the squash we dried a bunch but I also made zucchini jam, ginger squash marmalade, canned some squash soup and then Mr. Morris got his supply and started on squash wine. Ewww, I have to say that sounds awful but Kevin said it actually is good. He said that he and his dad would sometimes place bets on whether they could get Yankees to give it a try, if they did they usually wound up having someone ask them for the recipe or whether they could buy a bottle (backdoor sale if you know what I mean).

Rather than canning more green beans I decided to dry everything we could get snapped today in the big drying oven. Scott calls it "Big Bertha," the loony even stenciled it in one the door. I guess these days you have to get your funny where you can find it. All I know is that every time I see "Big Bertha" in those hideous fluorescent orange letters it makes me smile.

We are canning some of the potatoes we've been harvesting but most of them we are drying in various forms – sliced, diced, and minced primarily although I did shred some and even tried "ricing" some for a kind of quick mashed potato mix. That was a mess. I'll guess we'll have to see whether it is worth the work in the long run.

I also dried some of the okra and though it went against my personal inclinations I made some pickled okra for Mr. Morris. Ugh, pickled okra reminds me too much of snot and slime. Gack, it's gagging me just thinking about it. My Mom and Dad really like pickled okra as well. Sorry, I prefer my okra fried until all the slime factor has been removed though I will eat well cooked okra in a gumbo. Now that IS some good eating right there.

Peanuts are looking to make a good crop though they aren't anywhere near ready for harvest. I wished we had planted more than just an acre of peanuts now. If the corn crop doesn't make for oil it would have been nice to have peanut oil as a backup. What we have in storage will still last quite a bit yet now that we are piecing it out with lard, but it's not secret how fond of redundancies I am.

The other women headed out before dinner but that still left us some clean up to take care of. Saen, who is staying the night here, was like a bumblebee on caffeine overload and said to just get out of her way and let her work … hey, you don't have to ask me twice. Glenn and crew finally rolled up mid-way through dinner. They hadn't expected to be so late but apparently the convoy attracted some attention that had to be dealt with and then with the roads and bridges in the shape they are now it they had to make a few more detours than they wanted.

Boy, were they loaded for bear. I hadn't realized it but they must have picked up a couple of drivers from OSAG before they headed out. The first in was a tractor trailer with a bulk container (the silly thing looks like a cylindrical tank with 2 cone shaped projections on the underside and 2-3 hatches on top). Courtesy of all the stories I used to have to listen to from my brother the independent trucker, I knew those bulk containers were used for hauling anything from rice and grain to granular chemicals. My brother had hauled citrus peel pellets in one of those things for about three months before the contract ran out. The one the crew brought back was three quarter full of ammonia nitrate fertilizer. This they apparently scavenged from the production lines of two fertilizer plants in Bone Valley, one of them in Lake Alfred.

The next tractor trailer came in with two flatbed trailers attached. These are called "doubles." It always bothered me to be next to one of the piggy back set ups when I was going down the interstate. One trailer had two 25 HP propane engine farm tractors they took from a sod farm. I overheard Glenn and Scott talking and Glenn said they probably went untouched because everyone thought they were useless for bugging out or any other work when the supply of commercially supplied propane stopped. Bob is going to be in on converting the engines to hydrogen. I think it is more fun to call it AldeaFuel but the guys just kind of roll their eyes at me when I call it that. It's some comfy being humored by the big tough guys … not. But what are you going to do? I'll take my knuckle-dragger over a metrosexual woos any day of the week. The second trailer had an assortment of 5, 10, and 15 HP propane engines they salvaged from warehouse forklifts, which they plan to likewise convert to hydrogen and then adapt them to generators and other equipment the Triune needs.

Next in was the crazy set up that Glenn himself drove. It was one tractor trailer with three chemical tankers and two flatbeds. You couldn't get away with driving stuff like that here in the States but Jim called it a road train. Glenn chose to drive this one as both the nitric acid and the ammonia he was pulling are dangerous to transport. He wasn't exactly following the hazmat safety regulations regarding maximum size of shipment and which items can be hauled together. Jim was wearing an NBC suit and mask they picked up from the NRSC troops that died during the big Hive herding operation. So the "road train" was made up of two tankers of Anhydrous Ammonia, scavenged from chemical plants in the Tampa area, as well as now disused cold storage facilities near the citrus farms; two flatbed trailers with twenty bulk liquid shipping tanks (big square plastic tanks inside steel grid cages) nitric acid scavenged from the fertilizer plants and phosphate mines; two bulk containers of Hexamine (about 2000lbs, taken from a plant manufacturing resin compounds (Formica); and, one fuel tanker filled with old grease and oil from every truck stop restaurant and fast food place we could find. That last is so that they can process the gunk … which smells like death if you must know … into bio-diesel.

The reason they were gone as long as they were was because once they found their first location, it took some time to cook up enough bio-diesel to run the trucks. They took some of the gunk they found at a truck stop, added lye and then cooked it in an old water heater tank. They filtered it when it had done perking or whatever the stuff does. They used the power from a small propane forklift to jump start one of the trucks, then jumped the other trucks with the first truck. They used the air lines on the on the trucks at the truck stop they didn't use to re-inflate the tires on the ones that they did pick to use. They also had to patch a couple of tires and a few they even had to switch out altogether.

Now here are the goodies that brought back that isn't part of whatever the super dooper super secret secret plan … oh yeah, I'm miffed because Scott won't even give me a hint … yet. I'm still working on him. I'm working on the other men too but I think I might need to ease up a bit; they've taken to running whenever they see me coming. That must mean they are getting close to the breaking point.

Anyway, they got the sleeper cab type trucks thinking that if they had to they could stay the night in the trucks. But, they never got a chance to use them much. Next to one of the truck stops was a warehouse complex and the guys had a couple of hours to kill because it was raining so they decided to take a look and see if there was anything worth scavenging. Most of the warehouses were pretty much ransacked or over run with varmints of one kind or 'nother including some rather frisky zombies.

Back in the back corner however was a warehouse that while it had been broken into nothing had really been taken. A couple of the cases in the place had been thrown around but they were just full of broken glass. But, on closer inspection, every case in the place was filled with glass only in better condition than the boxes that had gotten tossed for kicks.

Now let me tell you, as a general rule I don't go around kissing men that aren't my husband or related to me but I coulda kissed Glenn right then and there, though I let Saen do it for me. They brought back jars. Not just jars, but lids to go with the jars. Now the catch is that I'm only thinking that I can get those jar lids to seal. They aren't the home-style variety of rings and lids that I would use on Ball or Mason jars. These are one piece deals for commercial use … think pickles jars and jam products that you used to buy in the grocery store.

They stuffed every cab with boxes of jars and lids and even packed some onto wooden flats that they tied down onto the flatbeds where ever there was room. I thought Mr. Morris was going to kiss Glenn there for a sec too when we found out a goodly number of those jars were actually half-gallon and gallon glass jugs with lids. From the same company warehouse they also brought back aluminum bottles (like for cosmetics and sprays), tin containers in various sizes and shapes, and plastic bottles and jars. I'm going to help Dante' inventory the bounty tomorrow.

Glenn looks to be in good health though he's obviously lost some weight. I don't know if that is the injury, the trip, or him missing Saen. All I can say is that they were definitely happy to see each other and strolled off as soon as they could to spend some alone time together. The young bucks were feeling pretty frisky and made a few cat calls trying to embarrass them. I told them to knock it off or I'd wish a crazy Cajun woman to fall in love with them. Dante' laughed and told the boys he had one word for them … "Run."

It wasn't long after that that we all decided to head on home. First thing out of Scott's mouth was, "Sissy, don't ask me. I promised not to say anything and you are driving me up a wall with your questions."

Fine. I only like tormenting him when it's all in good clean fun. When it gets to where it really does bother him … not just play bothers him … I know to stop. A man has to be able to find some peace some place and a smart woman knows that one of those places better be the home. If it isn't then a man will go looking for it someplace else which could lead to all sorts of unnecessary heartache for everyone involved.

Now that I have all of this written down I'm going to shuffle off to bed. I hope Scott follows me shortly. I'm beginning to hate that computer already. Now Scott feels like he has to be even more productive. I wonder if we could jury rig a PDA so that he can just enter things as he goes and then download it at the end of the day into the computer. That would save all of that double work with writing his notes and then writing up the work orders. James thinks he can do it if we can just locate a PDA … or a couple of them. Which reminds me, I think Rose had one she bought for one of her dual enrollment courses. I wonder if she still has it?


	228. Day 270

_**Day 270 (Friday) – April 27**_

Wow, what a long day. Let me start with the jars and bottles that Glenn and his crew brought in first since that's what I've been playing with the most.

First off I think the warehouse where the men picked them all up must have been a distributor; they certainly weren't a manufacturer. Basically they were the middle men that would buy generic glass jars and other containers direct from a manufacturer and then re-sell them to smaller companies; likely the types of companies that bottled their own honey, preserves, ciders, etc. Larger companies like Welch's would have had their own contracts directly with the manufacturer thus avoiding any mark up. The first container that I inventoried was the glass bottles. They came in clear, amber, and cobalt blue and in enough sizes to drive me nuts trying to create a handwritten spreadsheet for inventorying them. There were round bottles, sauce bottles, swing-topped and corked bottles, droppers, and vials. The lids for this were standard plastic screw caps, those little eye dropper gizmos, and then some atomizers. After I got all the glass bottles inventoried … and there are several grosses of those puppies … I moved on to the plastic versions of the of the glass bottles. The difference in the two supplies was that there were no plastic vials but the plastic versions also came in the color emerald green; the plastic bottles also were had pumper lids that could be fitted on them for lotions and liquid soaps. What I'll probably do is divide the glass bottles between the Storehouse and the Clinic. The plastic bottles will also be divided though we've already got about a gazillion of those little pill bottles where we scavenged the pharmacies all those months ago.

After the glass and plastic bottles I got into the boxes containing the glass jars. These were primarily in the same tall slender shapes you would expect to see from a commercial product rather than a traditional mason jar. That doesn't mean they are useless, far from it. The largest of these jars come in 16 ounce size but they go all the way down to 4 oz. which won't be much use to us for food preservation but they'll be great for herbal seasonings and such. Let's see, besides the fact that they came in clear, amber, and cobalt blue there were several different shapes: hexagon, oval hex, faceted, shorts, longs, candle jars with the plastic inserts, salve jars in amber and cobalt blue; there were even nine ounce bear shaped glass jars. Most of the lids for these were the standard zinc sealing type but there were also some plastic shaker lids.

Plastic jars were next. These were mostly the lotion and cream type short jars and were probably sold to places that specialized in herbal preparations and organic products. Then I worked on the tins. There weren't as many cake and cookie tins as I had hoped; again they looked like something primarily marketed towards the small herbal preparation type companies or the organic products type things. Two of the neater variations on these tins were the ones that could be used for lip gloss or lip balm and the little square tins that were hinged like you used to get Sucrets cough drops in or Altoid mints. Not sure what I will use them for but they are still neat.

The last items were the biggest in size, took up the most room, and will probably be what becomes the hardest to find in the long haul. There were half gallon and gallon jugs and half gallon and gallon jars. The four different jars came with two different lids … a plastic one for something that didn't need processing to seal and then a commercial metal lid that would seal after processing. We got a gross of each type and Mr. Morris and Angus have already called dibs on the glass jugs that kind of look like old moonshine jugs only in clear glass. I'd love to have a few of those jugs filled with apple cider but I guess it could be years – if ever – before I taste such a thing again. Gives me the shivers to even let that thought in my head.

Glenn said that they got all they could fit on their current load but since he is planning to head back out as soon as he has spent some time arranging this first batch of stuff he'll go ahead and clear out the warehouse of what was left … assuming something or someone else hasn't gotten to it first. In preparation of that I need to schedule some of the kids to help clean out a couple of storage containers for the glass jars. I'll put the lids in a friendlier environment to keep the heat from ruining the seal but the glass jars and bottles can got anywhere.

Dante' was busy inventorying by weight or bulk-measure all of the stuff that Glenn's crew brought in. Scott took David and a couple of the young bucks from Aldea and went out Gunn Highway almost all the way to SR54 to hit up the aluminum and screening company out there. This place also made free-standing lanais and Florida rooms pre-NRS. David came by to tell me when they came back. He also asked if I could make up some of my flavored ORS for them as they'd really worked up a sweat moving all of that stuff around. Summer isn't really here yet and the heat and humidity already are a safety factor we have to deal with and plan for.

Apparently the manufacturing portion of the warehouse complex was trashed by one or both of the big fires. And some of the screening was melted as well. Surprisingly however, there was still quite a bit of stuff left to salvage. They got enough to build two huge green houses for us here at Sanctuary and a smaller one for Aldea. They are going to make another run tomorrow and this time a couple of the guys from OSAG are going to come, Theo, and Conrad and a couple of the young men that have become part of Mr. Choi's group. They'll finish cleaning out that complex so that all the Triune members will have plenty of greenhouse space and our two satellite communities will have a decent greenhouse each as well. If there isn't enough glass at the warehouse we'll simply salvage glass from local houses and have to add additional cross pieces to hold the glass in the aluminum frame.

I'm not totally sure what in the heck Glenn wants with all of the screening but he, Scott, and Dix had their maniacal grins on. If you can believe it I think they are going to use it for camouflage though why we need to camouflage fertilizer to that extent I'm not quite sure … yet. The reason why I'm getting a sneaking suspicion is because Scott asked me if I could sew stuff to the screen. I told him yeah but they'd have to be careful of storm damage. It is getting on towards hurricane season and we need to make sure all of our building projects conform to high wind codes as much as possible.

The other thing I heard – no secret that I guess – is they want to start producing concrete. Our Wall is wonderful but it does have its drawbacks, one of which is stacking height given our current equipment. With concrete we can take our building block system even higher, certainly in excess of twenty feet. Scott was off and running with the idea of real towers and ramparts as well if they can find or build the right pouring forms. Concrete would also be impervious to armor piercing ammunition and more impervious to blasts, both of which we've already had to deal with. Concrete is also more sustainable in that we don't have to worry about rusting. I've already run into two storage containers that Bob has had to torch the latches off of because they became rusted and frozen in place. Now as we get into a storage container and inventory it we make sure and grease the latches and doors so we don't get locked out of our supplies.

One of the things that strikes me as kind of funny is that the men are talking about building storm shelters but they keep mentioning something that looks awful similar to some of those white buildings on MacDill AFB. When I casually mentioned it Glenn just winked at me and then nodded and smiled at Scott. I swear if Scott had patted me on the head like he looked like he was about to I would have swung a mop at his head. Machismo and chauvinism do have their uses but I swear too much of a good thing is just as bad as not enough. So, I figured I was close on something and was a "smart girl" for figuring it out. But what the heck are they up to?! Well, I'm getting to the point I'm running out of curiosity. Let them keep their silly little man secrets. I know they are just egging me on at this point. Two can play that game.

I heard Dix say something a little … well … I've heard it before but have no idea who said it originally. The more I'm putting the puzzle together the more I'm beginning to see why we need to keep this quiet. Dix said, "Those who beat their swords into plows, plow for those who didn't." To me that means that they are working on Sanctuary's defenses. Now I know the fertilizer IS for the gardens but I think they are going to make some more boom-boom toys for the boys to play with if need be too. Crazy times that we are living in. If they are getting up to that kind of mischief that I'm not going to worry about it; however, if they blow something vital off I will be first in line to read them the riot act. I told them how I felt about having that stuff so close to home months back when they first made that stuff up. Granted it has come in handy but we've got enough kids here that they better keep all of that locked up tight and that is all I'm going to say on the subject. For now.

And speaking of crazy, I think Glenn's humor may have finally gotten the better of him. Along with all the stuff that he brought back was a concrete form for making yard gnomes. No, I'm not kidding. Saen and I are both wondering if Glenn didn't fall on his head during that explosion that he was wounded in. He keeps chuckling and not even Scott gets that particular joke. He says he wants to fill up the Triune area with those yard gnomes … you know the weird little guys with the funny read caps and odd shoes. Well, Glenn is nothing if not interesting. I keep imagining all this little concrete gnomes all over Sanctuary holding signs that say "keep off the grass" or something equally bizarre.

Oh, and about inventorying … I could have just chewed horseshoes and spit nails. A rat (or rat family) must have gotten into one of the storage containers … and it was the one where we had stored a lot of the plastic tubs with our fabrics in them. Betty had gone over there to find shirt material to make Ty some summer PJs. We lost every tub of fabric on that end of the storage container. The rat or rats just chewed right through the plastic bins, even the heavy duty plastic bins. On Monday we'll go through and see if any of that is salvageable but instead of bolts of fabric we'll have to break it down into cut lengths which makes it much less useful except for quilting and craft projects. Oh I was just so mad! This is just another example of taking two steps forward and one step back. It also is a good example of why we need to hurry up and find the time to go through all of those steel storage containers. Who knows what we are losing as each day passes. On top of that Rilla said Rhonda found mouse droppings in two of the clothing storage containers/rooms; and we go in those regular. They didn't find any overt damage but it's really hard to tell with the way things are packed in there. I don't want to go looking for undies one day to find all we have are some with bowling ball sized holes chewed in them or something worse like one-sided bras.

Speaking of fabric, Kim and Daniel came by again today; I think to see Jim as much as anything. But, apparently they are having a lot of problems with rodent infestation in the condominiums where they are living too. Some rats, lots of mice, and more roaches than you can imagine from what she said. They've taken to sleeping under mosquito netting just to make sure that a roach doesn't crawl on them in the night. Ick. They are talking about having to move and they were wondering if we had a problem with them picking one of the places over in this area. Dix called a Council after dinner and we discussed it as a group. Tomorrow we are going to offer them a place in Sanctuary … to be honest we need the manpower and they've got skills we need as well. As far as I know we don't have a single weaver between the Triune members or the satellite communities. Having someone that can create fabric from raw materials to a finished product would be a real feather in our cap. They'll kinda be on probationary status but we don't even know if they'll accept since they were looking for a place of their own rather than one inside the Wall.

At that same meeting we had a long discussion about clothes and the necessity of maintaining them as much as humanly possible. Some of the guys – including my own – are so hard on their clothes. Scott and James also have very acidic sweat which just seems to eat at the threads of their t-shirts. Socks are going to be a real problem for the men. Sarah has taught herself to knit but I can't imagine the child being able to knit every new socks as fast as they seem to go through them. Glenn (and Saen who also stayed the night again) asked where the nearest textile factories were. Well between Scott and I we came up Uniroyal down in Sarasota, Dowling over in Clearwater, Lawrence Schreiber in Sunrise, Trann up north in Mossy Head, and then Armen, Signoria, and Drezo down near Miami. Likely there are smaller ones all over the state but those are the biggest that Scott remembers from his commercial banking days. It sure would be nice to take a trip to one of those places and bring back some bulk denim or other natural fibers like cotton or silk. Of course with the way things are I wouldn't turn my nose up at any kind of fabric at this point but I have a hard time seeing the Triune men going around in floral print overalls made out of fabric originally designed for covering sofas. Though, now that I've thought it it sure is a funny picture in my head.

James and Tris were out on patrol today and ran across Maya and her husband Jeff. James said Jeff wasn't unfriendly exactly but he wasn't friendly either. Tris said he noticed that when he and James moved Jeff moved too to make sure they could never get within so many feet of Maya. It wasn't overtly obvious but the boys are pretty observant. Tris complained that it made him feel uncomfortable but I asked him if he had ever noticed how Scott and David acted. I figured it was just something that males did to make sure their boundaries weren't being invaded. James said it was more than that. Dix overheard and then demonstrated a few stances and movements and Tris and James said that was exactly what Jeff had done which rather surprised me.

Dix, after looking thoughtful, told the boys to stay away from Jeff … and especially Maya. Tris looked a little mulish but James is smart enough that when Dix says something like that it isn't for no reason. Which basically tells me that Jeff is either military or some version thereof. I told Scott who said Dix had already told him about it so he could reinforce to the boys to stay away. Dix is going to try and have a pow-wow with the guy to make sure he isn't casing our territory for nefarious purposes but otherwise his particular proclivities won't be a problem unless Jeff makes them one. I hope the couple aren't going to be a problem; I really like Maya, she is a hoot.

Betty was in charge of taking care of the potatoes today and boy was I grateful. The inventory work took longer than I had expected because I was trying to put things away as I counted them up. I've got a bit more to put away tomorrow but I did make a major dent in it today by getting everything counted. Tomorrow Scott asked if I had time to go with them over to that warehouse area. While the guys do the loading I'll get nosey and look in the offices and employee lockers and that sort of thing to see if there is anything worth scavenging.

Most of our women could do the same job except, frankly, none of them want the job. They are content to stay in and around Sanctuary or Aldea proper, getting their daily to do list whittled down. The more adventuresome have new babies or are pregnant or have other important duties. Additionally I've got the inventory in my head of what we need the most (and what we have too much of) in case it comes down to prioritizing for space limitations.

After dinner Angus was showing Scott and I some of his ideas for the school house. Oh my. I really hope he can do this. It's all natural woods and textures mixed in with the modern. He's got a list of stuff that he needs and is looking for to start work on a couple of the projects. Some I know we have in storage already if I can just find it. But I duplicated his list into my handy-dandy notebook that I carry with my like religion and both Scott and I will keep our eyes out while we are doing stuff.

He gave me the next couple of days of his "sightseeing journal" at the same time. I swear it's a wonder I have any hair left.

* * *

 ** _Sightseeing 4_**

 ** _Well the man's name is Tom Harois. I hope I spelled that right._** ** _He's not a very impressive looking man to be out here on his own. He has some height at 6 foot but the man only weighs in at 160 pounds by the look of him. I'll write down what of his story he has told us in a bit. The problem tom has right now is an infection in his right eye that's really bad. He's been wearing an eye patch to try to keep from blinking as that irritates the eye a lot._**

 ** _He told Jim and I that during a confrontation with some wandering punks a bullet smashed into a brick wall next to his face and some brick dust got in the eye. He tried to flush it out but he knows he didn't get it all and for over a week he's been trying to flush it out to no avail. I'm not a squeamish guy but that eye is enough to kill my appetite. It's leaking and pus-sing and swollen and close to red. Jim suggested getting Ski to make a house call but I reminded him about all the large waddling women in the compound._**

 ** _Then I asked him what he thought Sissy might have to say to him if them women decided to all drop them Little's at the same time with Ski gone._** ** _Well I tell you the man turned a little pale and said she'd probably make him change diapers for a month. So we compromised and talked Tom into making a run over to Sanctuary to get that eye looked at. He didn't really have an option as that eye needs some work and fast._**

 ** _We radioed and told base what was up and to expect Tom in his red pickup to show up in two days. It's hard to think that the distance we traveled can be made in a straight line with a vehicle in just two days. Turns out Tom's not alone here but holed up with his brother in law John Teasdale. Tom told us that before the fire it was him, his wife and brother in law and the neighbor couple next door. The fire evidently swept through here at night and missed the place by less than a half mile. Tom's wife and the neighbors disappeared two days after the fire when they were out scouting the area._**

 ** _Tom and his brother in law found a place down the road with blood covering a large area but no bodies, the guns they had with them where there but not a shot had been fired. They never found out what happened. After a while I asked about the fence and the lack of reinforcement and Tom told Jim and I a pretty odd story about the zombies in this area._**

 ** _Turns out they never had any hoards here, in fact they never seemed to have to deal with more than 20 or 30 at any given time. Tom's brother in law is of the opinion that the terrain somehow funnels them around this area. The way the roads are Tom told us it's kept them hidden from most of the raiders as well._**

 ** _The electric part of the fence is of interest to me and probably to some back at Sanctuary as well. According to Tom when a zombie hits the fence and gets a jolt it becomes disorientated and seems to forget what it was doing and often times wonders off. I find this interesting, I seem to remember Sissy saying something about the zombies during electrical storms. Jim asked Tom about the traffic that seems to pass here and we were told about a large compound south in a place called Bele Grade. He said they stop here on their northern runs and trade supplies for a safe stop over. He warned us to stay out of their area as they don't tolerate trespassers and that even most of the raiders avoid the area. Tom went out when his brother in law got back to let him know there was company and introductions where made. John was excited to hear that there might be hope for Tom's eye_**

 ** _Here I sit having coffee as Jim helps Tom and John load the pickup for Tom's run toSsanctuary. John spent the morning catching me up on the news of the area, and there's news important enough to write down. It seems the hyenas I was wondering about are a local pack not the ones we dealt with. John said he doesn't know their full numbers but that at least 12 of them have been spotted at one time._**

 ** _I was also informed that our favorite government goons have been doing something down here right after the fire. John said they heard choppers on the second night after the fire had gone past and that it had sounded as if they landed in the industrial park. Then 30 minutes latter they left. Tom had told John that he had seen (from his roof top spotting scope) men carrying boxes into one of the buildings that morning._**

 ** _John and Tom had previous experience with the black uniformed stormtroopers before things went to hell so they had no desire to renew relations and stayed as out of sight as they could. They started to write down their observations of the activity they observed and it appeared they were making surveys and taking samples of everything from the soil to the occasional walking dead. According to John the group got weekly visits from a chopper that dropped off things and took other things away. Then they stopped and the guys have seen nothing from the group for over a week now._**

 ** _John and Tom both say the last chopper didn't take any passengers and they never saw any ground vehicles coming or going from that area. As far as they know the groups just hold up in there. With Tom heading out and John working on their other truck I think Jim and I might take a closer look and see if we can find anything more on what they're doing down here._**

 ** _Spent the day floating in the pool. I offered to help John work on his truck but he's just doing maintenance on it and said he didn't need the help. Jim was enjoying the pool for a bit but after he was done swimming the skeeters wouldn't let him just relax so he got out. They nibble on me from time to time but not as much as Jim._**

 ** _He doesn't take a swig of my magic skeeter repellent every day like I do. So Jim's out walking around the back fields looking for the dog. Scrappy hasn't been seen since yesterday and it makes Jim nervous. Me I figure he's just out looking for ladies, I figure he's smart enough to stay away from the hyenas so I'll leave the worrying to Jim._**

 ** _I been thinking about the goons over at the industrial complex and how best to check it out. There seems to be some very heavy darkness on the horizon moving this way and I'm thinking rain. The way I'm thinking is that if we get a good storm it might be the best time to head over and have a look. It covers any noise on our part and makes it harder for them to see us. Jim doesn't like running around in the bad storms, especially if there's lightning but I told him, if the gods aim a lightning bolt at him it won't matter if he's outside or under the bed._**

 ** _I had to get out of the water around lunch time before my wrinkly parts started pruning. As I was adjusting me kilt there was a gun shot from the direction Jim had headed. I ran up the ladder to the roof with my Mauser and started scanning the area with the spotting scope and found Jim just as John got up there with me. There were small bushes between Jim and us so I didn't know what he was up to at first. There wasn't any danger around that I could see and Jim was just bent over and wiggling around behind one of the bushes._**

 ** _I was about to climb down and run over when he flew backwards and landed on his rump. Then I saw him stand up and start running back our way dragging a small deer. Out of the bushes running after Jim was a DRAGON!_**

 ** _OK, so it was a gator. But it was a big one, 10 to 12 feet long. John wasn't looking through the scope like I was and he said " that's a big one " John was taking aim with his hunting rifle when I told him to stand down. The gator was slowing down and Jim was picking up speed. Turned out Jim spotted the little Florida deer heading to the little pond to get a drink and took the shot. Then as soon as he grabbed it the gator grabbed the other end. Jim's little wiggling behind the bushes was Jim hitting and poking it with the butt of his rifle. Jim told me he was in a dark mood as it was looking for the dumb dog and being eaten by the bugs here abouts and then when the - his words " poor excuse for a croc " grabbed his meat he lost it._**

* * *

If those two men decide to take off again until I'm ready I'm thinking of tying one of those collars they used on those "invisible" dog fences on each of them. I swear they are purely trouble. They act like they are Teflon and trouble will just slide right off. Scare me to death some times. And the kids want to grow up and be just like them. Come back in a decade or so and people are going to find I'm balled as a cue ball from everyone's shenanigans.

I'd love to go to bed right now but I've got guard duty. Hopefully I won't be so tired in the morning that I have to beg off going with Scott to the aluminum place.


	229. Day 271

_**Day 271 (Saturday) – April 28**_

I'm worried about Iggy. It's been days since we heard Baron had run off and he would start looking for him. I feel so bad for the guy. He has such a good heart and was trying to do the right thing for Baron; and trying to pay back the kick in the butt he got when he was a kid that helped turn him around. Jim mentioned that he'd be willing to go look for Iggy but it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Even if we knew what his exact location was at the time of his radio message, there is no way to tell where he is now. He could literally be miles for his last known location. I'll keep Iggy and Baron in my prayers until I know one way or the other.

I was certainly tired when I crawled out of bed this morning but it could have been worse. Because the location was relatively close and had already been looked over and worked on we didn't leave at first light but waited for the others to show up and then we convoyed over. Somebody from OSAG must have found one of those lumber flatbed tractor trailer rigs 'cause that's what they were driving. This thing was one of those old ones that had the manual crane and chain pulleys built into the side and man that thing came in handy.

Bob came with us this time and he spent part of the day pawing through the tool sheds to see if there was anything helpful in them and found things like blades and belts, tin snips the size of bolt cutters, etc. While he was doing that, and the other guys were loading the supplies they came for, I took Scrappy the Wonder Dog (Angus insisted I bring him) and did a little exploring. Scott gave me definitive limits and told me, "I better not have to look hard to find you." Grouchy. It's not my fault I had to work a late guard duty last night.

I hit the office area and it was pretty well ransacked but there were the usual overlooked items like pens, paper clips, paper, scissors, and staples. I also found some write on-wipe off markers and a one of those boards that will be handy while I'm trying to inventory in the food Storehouse. There were a couple of metal supply closets that I also marked for salvage. They'll make good cabinets for the school house. I also found a empty spiral spines for my binding machine. I'm glad as I was running low. I'm trying to make all of the girls a giant how-to book … _Post Apocalyptic Home Economics_ or something trite and silly sounding like that.

I found one of the treasures of the day on the office manager's desk. It was a Brother brand electronic typewriter and there must have been two cases of ribbons for it as well. Whooopppiiiieeee! I miss my laptop but we are running low on toner so I switched to handwriting my journal months ago. But I can't possibly handwrite the all of the books I want to make for the girls. I can add handwritten notes but the typewriter will be so much better. And then once I get a whole section made I can take it to our big copier that we swiped from DT Publishing and run off the copies that I need. We try and limit our copying because it took so much juice to run the big machine but now that we have those propane generators we won't have to be quite so skimpy on things.

Scott didn't think the typewriter would work and didn't want to bother bringing it back. Did I mention that he was in a foul mood? It was kind of ucky but I cleaned it up and James tinkered with it a bit and sure enough it works just fine.

There wasn't any food to be found, not even powdered coffee creamer so I figured someone had already been though the place. Found a couple rolls of commercial grade toilet paper – aka sandpaper – that were left behind. I suppose we could have taken the office furniture but the seat cushions were pretty moldy and we've got just about all we could use for now. When the younger kids start needing places of their own we'll have to get more rustic and make stuff.

You would think after all of the salvaging and scavenging that I've done I would be past having people's personal items affect me but the pictures and stuff on people's desks and their bulletin boards kind of got to me. I left and went to the employee lockers, though there weren't really that many, and scrabbled through them for a bit and only turning up a couple of men's belts that could come in handy.

After the office and locker room Scrappy and I went outside to tell Scott that we didn't turn up anything but he was busy. After standing there for a couple of minutes waiting for him to stop long enough so that I could tell him I was going to go one more warehouse over I finally went up to him and – gasp – interrupted him. Did I mention that Scott was cranky? He snarled, "Fine, just for God's Sake stay out of trouble." Frankly it's his fault. He jinxed me.

I went to the next warehouse over. Immediately going in I noticed Eau d' Wet Dog, it's unmistakable. Scrappy went a little crazy sniffing and smelling all around but wasn't in "danger mode" so I remained on guard but decided to look around any way.

The office was in the same shape as the other one had been; ransacked primarily for edibles but small office supplies still available. What they did have a lot of was duct tape so I started piling it into the bags I was carrying over my shoulder. Then Scrappy sat at my heels and gave a soft "whoof." This usually means, "Hey, I found something interesting. Wanna come look at it with me?"

I followed him two doors down but there wasn't a lot of light in the cubicle space. I had to get down on my hands and knees to see what he kept crawling under a desk and then back out wanting me to see. It was pretty rank at that point. I found out about a half-second later when my hand … my ungloved hand … came down on something furry and gooshy. Seeing gross stuff doesn't bother me too much. Smelling gross stuff doesn't bother me near as much as it used to, I've gotten used to it. But touching gross stuff gives me the instantaneous need to hurl. It's the texture thing; I was real bad about it as a kid. I had a real hard time learning to touch raw meat when I started cooking, especially ground beef that I had to mix with my hands.

I jumped back, banging my head on the desk but I caught myself before I tossed my cookies. The last thing I wanted to do was look under that desk to see what I had touched but Scrappy, dang him, wouldn't leave me alone. Then I heard it … a teeny weeny whine. I knew that sound. Anyone that has ever heard it knows that sound. Its "puppy in distress" whine. That sunk it, I had to look now.

I put on a head lamp out of my pack and turned it on low. Of course Scrappy was in the way but once I finally made him move I nearly hurled again. A mother dog must have been mauled by something and crawled in here and gave birth. Had to have survived a little while after the birth because the puppies were small – very, very small – but were at least a ten days old because their eyes were open. The mother had probably starved to death, too injured to leave the haven she had found for the pups, and the three puppies I saw were in danger of it.

Scrappy looked at me like, "Well, you're the human. What do we do now?"

I found one of those cardboard file boxes through in a sweater than was hanging on the back of an office chair. What I had thought was three puppies was actually only one. The other two pups must have died recently and with their eyes open. It was heart breaking. I picked up the last little puppy. I was fairly certain she was a beagle and Sarah and Samuel have confirmed that ad nauseum.

I had just turned off my head lamp and was sitting in the cubicle trying to figure out how I was going to talk Scott into another dog when he had balked at a typewriter when I heard the men.

"Oh f***! I thought you said a woman came in here you idiot," groused scary dude #1.

"F*** you! I did see a woman come in here," returned scary dude #2.

"Ease up Cal. I saw the woman too. She came in here but must have gone out the back while we were trying to get passed those men," commented scary dude #3.

Cal must have been scary dude #1. "Yeah, Abe well F*** you too. It's easy for you not to get all worked up, you got a woman this week. And damn you for not sharing too," replied the guy they had called Cal.

"You'd have a woman too if you'd take a bath every once in a while and not knock them around so much," commented the not-worked-up Abe.

"Great, just great," I thought. I mean come on, why do guys like this seem to proliferate like cockroaches? Then scary dude #2, the one I never heard the name of asked, "Dude, you think the zombies we saw got her?"

Zombies?! Well geez, throw a little plagues of Egypt on there to make it even more interesting. I should have kept my thoughts less sarcastic because sure enough from the back of the warehouse I hear some banging around, the kind of loose limbed, clumsy banging around into things sound when you've got shamblers around.

"S*** man, here they come. The mujer is probably dead, and if she ain't I ain't risking my ass for any of her tail. Let's get outta here."

After I was sure the loser's club had left I looked at the puppy and thought at her, "Well, weren't they the gentlemen?"

I carefully set the puppy down and got up on my haunches and the balls of my feet. I unsnapped my machete. I didn't know how many zombies there were. Sounds in a warehouse can be deceptive. I had my pistol but I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself than I had to in case there was more than one.

From outside and the direction that the men had gone I heard gunfire. So did the zombies. Lovely. I was worried about the men but my immediate attention was on the infected creatures that were now heading my way trying to get at whatever caused the sound.

I got lucky and these shamblers were pretty wasted. They looked like parts of them had been toasted at some point, possibly remnants of the most recent fire. We still find them that way now and then. James, who seems to thrive on grossing me out, calls them burnt marshmallow zombies – black and crispy on the outside, gooey on the inside. Ew! Teenage boys, I'll never understand them.

There were three of them, two too many for my peace of mind. I decided to avoid rather than confront. I stayed down and quiet hoping that I would be ignored if not totally missed. I swear on some days if it wasn't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all.

The puppy picked that moment to start whining presumably because she could no longer see me. I didn't blame the puppy, it wasn't her fault. She's just a baby and a baby animal at that. That'd be like blaming the wind for blowing.

The noise she made wasn't much but in the warehouse it sounded loud … or at least loud enough to get the three crispy critters headed my way at a good clip. Well, what choice did I have?

Right as the first one came abreast of my cubicle I sprang up and out and cut it in two while I was trying to find a bigger space to move around in. No way did I want to get stuck in one of those small work spaces with two hungry zombies.

Stumbling backwards and up the aisle heading towards the front where there was more light, zombie number two started knocking down cubicle walls. Shortest point between two points is a straight line and that is about the only logic that a zombie still has in its pus-filled brain.

The third zombie was coming straight at me from where two aisles intersected. It was a race to see which one would get to me first. Hey, of course I turned and ran. Two steps into my "run" it hit an obstacle that turned out to be "Cal." Automatic reaction … really … I did not hold a grudge over what he had said … at least no could ever prove it.

The muscles in my legs are pretty good for an "old chick." Bending up and down in the garden has made them pretty spring-loaded. Well, my knee pistoned right into his manly parts causing him to double over but not let go of me. I drove my thumb nail up under one of his finger nails which made him let go with one hand. I'll say this for the guy, he had endurance. But no one can handle a good swift knock in their temple with a weighted machete handle without going blurry. Finally I gained my release just in time for Call to get his comeuppance.

But like I said, endurance. He got a little chewed on but screamed and got loose and ran away leaving me still stuck with two zombies. What was worse Cal the Donkey's Behind had closed the door into the warehouse and it was one of those lever doors. He'd jammed it with something and I didn't have the time to figure out how to un-jam it. Well crap.

I turned and bolted for another door I spied. Problem was zombie number two was lively enough that he broke out across and intersected with my beeline.

I've gotten pretty good with my machete. I wonder how I would do with a scimitar. Basically that is what I used the machete as and decapitated it. Two relatively down if not completely sanitized.

I'm hauling butt towards freedom when the door is jerked open. My first thought was the other bad guys. My second thought was, "Oh crap, I'm in serious trouble now." Mr. Scott Gumpy-Pants had arrived and was not pleased with the view.

Scott and I had never taken that trip to Spain like we'd always wanted to. I'm beginning to doubt we ever will. He always wanted to see the crazy people running with the bulls in Pamploma. At that moment however I'm fairly certain I knew exactly how those people must have felt when faced with a maddened bull. All he needed was steam coming out of his nose to look like that bull in those old Bugs Bunny cartoons.

"I thought," and he grabbed my arm. "I told you," and jerked me behind him. "to stay," at which point he hefted a big sixteen pound sledge hammer. "out of trouble!" he snarled as he aimed at and hit the skull of zombie number three.

Remember the comedian Gallagher? Remember when he would take a sledge hammer to a watermelon? Same effect. Only I didn't have any plastic to protect me from the splash zone. Yuck.

For some reason the head of zombie number two came rolling our direction and really hacked Scott off that much more. "Arrrrrr!" and Scott booted it into the goal like he did during his soccer days. The goal in this case was a small dumpster in the corner of the warehouse.

My mouth sometimes runs away from me, especially when I'm flying high on adrenaline. "Were you channeling Pele or Renaldo just then?"

I knew I had blown any chance of getting off Scott free as soon as the first syllable passed my lips. Unfortunately my wayward brain chose that moment to fritz and all I could do was giggle at the incredulous look on Scott's face. He really did look like the bull in the Bugs Bunny cartoons.

About that moment a lot of the other guys from the crew come running in take one look at Scott's face and took two giant steps backwards. When they saw I was giggling that took another step backwards. They were trying to get out of the blast zone.

I kept giggling, even after the first zombie made its presence known by dragging itself out into the open. "Ooops."

Scott walked over and finished it off with the sledge hammer, turned around and looked at me and asks in a deadly calm voice, "Any more?"

"Ummmm, not yet but some dude got a little chewed up and ran off that general direction," I snickered trying really hard to get my giggles under control.

Bob shakes his head and mutters, "Mein gott, sie ist eine verrückte Frau" before taking a couple of guys to deliver some mercy to Cal.

"Anything else?"

"Well, I found a puppy and I want to bring her home." I figured I might as well heap coals on the fire and get it over with.

Scott approached me very deliberately, looked me in the eye, and then whoa momma. He snatched me up and gave me a kiss so thorough that my toes are still curled. Then in a very quiet, hanging onto sanity by a thread voice Scott said, "Get the damn dog, walk to the truck, get in the cab, do NOT move from there. Do I make myself clear?"

So I got the dog and got in the truck. I figured I'd pushed my luck as far as it could be pushed. Besides I hadn't found anything really interesting except for the typewriter and the puppy anyway.

Scott did calm down by the time we left. He even got over his grouchiness. I'll say this for the man, he's temper may be volcanic but he's never used it against me or the kids and he gets over himself real fast. Before we left he even walked with me around some of the other warehouses and out of earshot of the other guys apologized for his earlier bad mood. Not for sticking me in the truck but for his general crankiness in the early part of the day. And who am I to hold a grudge? It's not like he hasn't had to put up with my monthly mood swings for over twenty years.

The only thing that we might come back to that complex for was to get starts of the large bamboo plants that were in the landscaping around there. Mr. Choi's translator, a young Korean guy, said that bamboo can make an impenetrable hedge if it is planted and nurtured properly. Most bamboo species also grows fairly quickly. I'd like to give that a try and bamboo shoots also make for good eating … I think anyway. I've seen them in cans before. I'll have to ask Saen next time I see her; she and Glenn went home to Aldea earlier in the day.

The rest of my day was fairly ordinary until I was getting ready for dinner. Scott had come home and all the kids were outside or off doing chores. You know that old cliché about make up sex? Well, it's true. I wouldn't want to field test it often but there is definitely a certain spice to it that you don't … OK, too much information. Besides, right as we were basking in the afterglow as they say, Johnny, Bubby, Sissy, Al bust in to tell us something. I still don't remember what.

Do you know that the first test for the speed of sound came about by measuring how fast parents can move to avoid being caught by their kids in the middle of you know what? All Scott and I could do was laugh and be thankful that were weren't having to explain the facts of life quite so early to those four little marauders.

Dinner was rabbit stew with potato bread. Thank you Betty! Any meal I don't have to cook is a delicious meal.

I had clean up duty while Scott reported on our salvaging trip. I don't know exactly what he said but all the guys over there were rolling with laughter. Humph! Well, I guess he was getting a little of his own back. Like I said, I don't mind, he's had to put up with me enough.

After dinner and reports we all peeled off to go home and try and get out of the heat. The fans help a little but spritzing with an atomizer while sitting near the fan helps even more. The kids are now all asleep and so is Scott. I'm off to bed. Hopefully tomorrow will be a little more restful than today has been.


	230. Day 272

_**Day 272 (Sunday) – April 29 – Rest Day**_

First, got word that Iggy found Baron and they are both as well as can be expected. I'll cover this in a bit. Second, Glenn is certifiable … at least after he's knocked back a few. I'll cover that later as well once I can stop laughing long enough to catch my breath. Thirdly, good brown gravy how did I forget how much trouble Pup was in the beginning?!

My little beagle puppy is just something else. Even Pup finally gave up and looked at me in the middle of the night and in doggie told me, "Do something with this kid or I'm gonna go crazy!" I finally did something I know I'm going to regret. I let her on the bed so that I could get some sleep. Of course sleep was relative. She is still so young she takes regular bottle feeding.

Speaking of feeding, I did a bad thing giving the puppy goat's milk. She's too young but Austin admitted that I hadn't had much choice at that point. He mixed some stuff up that was basically puppy formula. He took a cup of raw cow's milk (cream not yet strained out) and added a teaspoon of vegetable oil. To that he added a beaten egg yolk (no white, just the yellow yolk) and then a pinch of salt and a drop of infant liquid vitamins. After mixing completely I can warm this in a bowl of warm water until it is body temperature. He said that I should only have to feed her four times a day if she has indeed reached the ten day mark but to let her eat her fill unless I see she is getting so fat she can't get around on her little puppy legs.

The poor little baby also cried every time I tried to put her down and go get something done so I made a little puppy sling and carried her around with me. Scott rolled his eyes when he saw it. Oh, and I've named her Wiggles because that seems to be what she does constantly.

Pup was all up under me today. Apparently Wiggles should only be where Pup wants her to be. I knew that Pup was a little depressed because Mischief's pups didn't need her near as much now that they are running with the bigger dogs. Hopefully Wiggles will give Pup a focus. I finally wound up putting Wiggles back in the box though she wasn't the least happy about it until Pup jumped in the box with Wiggles then they both settled down for a nap. Austin said that Wiggles won't really start moving around independently for another week and it will be another two or three before she is ready for a small amount of "play time." Until Wiggles is about five weeks old Austin wants me to keep the kids away from her. That's not going to be easy but I'm already getting attached to the little pudding. Austin did warn me however that she was awful young to have lost her mother and that orphaned puppies can be prone to a kind of doggie "crib death." I guess I'll just need to do my best and pray over the rest.

Speaking of puppies, mid-morning Iggy was able to call in and say he had found Baron … there is a short or something in his transmitter.

* * *

 ** _B is alive and well, though not particularly happy at the moment. I caught up to him a few hours before dawn the next day. How he managed to live that long I will never figure out... Angels truly do look after fools and children and B is some of both. I snuck up on the boy as he was bending down to drink some unfiltered water out of the murkiest bit of swamp I have seen in a bit. He must have been thirsty, because that brown liquid was pretty daggone disgusting... silty enough he didna notice the Alligator that was floating towards him till I pointed it out. I couldn't say what startled him more, me popping up behind him, or the way the gator seemed very disappointed when he scrambled away from the water's edge._**

 _ **We had a very long talk about his disappearing act, a long talk in which I ate some of Mother Hen's nicely packed 'lunches' in front of him while he salivated, and explained in no uncertain terms that this was likely the last time I would bother looking for him. We started west again, and soon came across a small band of tinkers and repairmen. One of them said she knew the folks in sanctuary, lived with them awhile back, so I left a parcel with her, in return for treating the common bumps, cuts and bruises that come up on her friends. B was initially just watching me work, but I kindly explained to him that those what don't help, don't eat. Soon he was washing sores on feet and helping me clean infected blisters, though his bedside manner needs work. Gagging visibly in front of a patient is poor form. Ironic, you would have thought that would have made him lose his appetite... regardless, some writing is in the mail for you, Mother Hen.**_

* * *

I'm definitely happy to hear they are both OK but to be honest more so for Iggy's sake than Baron's. It is interesting that Iggy, as soft hearted as he is about kids, also has the strength of will to discipline them. Baron definitely needs to have his will broken and it's looking more and more like Iggy is the one for the job.

And that bit leads me to other disciplinary issues. Between Sanctuary and Aldea we have a bunch of kids. Both locations are doing what they can to provide structure for them but naughtiness still occurs. Nothing major now that we have the Baron – Fy – Padric thing worked out but we need to make sure they have constructive stuff to do as well as just giving them time to run wild.

I thought we had a fair balance but apparently adding all of the Cheval Dozen has thrown things off a little bit. Even Angus is noticing and he's one that normally encourages the little monkeys to swing from the trees. Some of the problems came to a head early in the day. After breakfast we had a mini riot when some of the kids started complaining that other of the kids weren't helping enough with the chores. There were complaints of favoritism and stuff like that. A couple of the Cheval boys got into a fight with each other and like poison it just spread until all the kids … mine included … were bickering with one another and generally having a poor attitude. Then the fight nearly knocked over one of the bee hives. You can imagine Mr. Morris' reaction to that.

All of the kids have lost the rest of their free time for the next two days and Mr. Morris and Angus took them and they had to muck out the barn and the chicken coops, clean out the rabbit hutches, rake the hog pens, etc. The two boys who were actually fighting got the worst jobs and lost all of their free time for an entire week. While the kids were doing that, interested adults congregated at our house for drinks of choice and some pool time and to discuss what we were doing wrong, what we were doing right, and how we could improve things even more.

The kids aren't slave labor and they aren't miniature adults. We can't treat them as either. Not only would it be wrong, it would be counterproductive in the long run. On the other hand they can't just run wild with no responsibilities; we can't afford the luxury and they need to learn to exhibit self-discipline.

We already have them spending time on academics a couple hours a day four days a week. Most of the kids even enjoy this and try and sneak back to their books during the day when no one is looking. Amazing how much kids want to learn when they are allowed to progress at their own rate and not having stuff crammed down their throat. All of the kids also have chores they have to do to help out around the compound. That's not just busy work either. It's absolutely necessary work … gardening, cooking, guard or patrol duty for the older kids, helping with the animals, housekeeping, wood gathering, etc.

Glenn, who had stopped by again to talk some things over with Scott et al, mentioned possibly adding some new subjects to their school work. We need to pass on knowledge … not just survival stuff but the technical and strategic stuff as well. That got into a discussion of what subjects would we teach and how it wasn't necessarily the most efficient way to deliver that type of knowledge and how we didn't want the kids stuck inside "doing school" all day long. What the discussion boiled down to is that we are going to set up apprenticeships; or a version apprenticeships.

We are already doing that to a limited extent but we are going to expand it so that the kids, in addition to their academic work, will have three or four hours a day minimum studying a technical skill under an adult.

Rose and Melody are already training under Waleksi. This will continue but we'll rotate kids in and out of there so that they can learn basic first aid skills and basic lifesaving techniques like CPR. These days you never know when you'll be on your own or need to help in a catastrophic event.

James is studying under Dix. His marksmanship is exceptional. He's also a heck of a chess player so he's learning strategy. Scott is teaching him battle fortifications and how to use them to their fullest advantage. In other words, he's being groomed to be a future community leader. Personally what I think they are missing is some conflict resolution training but he's a teenager so I'm not sure how much that would stick right now anyway. He was also learning a bit of tracking from Angus but that is on hold until Angus can get around better on his knee though he's still managing to teach James to do a few things like navigate by the stars.

My Sarah and Dix's son Samuel are learning all about animal husbandry. This includes the less "fun" parts like culling flocks and herds and butchering and stuff like that. I'm surprised that Sarah has done well with that part of it. I guess Mr. Morris' matter of fact way of handling it is working with her. He approaches it as a way to maintain the health of the animal community as a whole and also emphasizes that the end game is to provide sustenance for our community. Austin also gives them lessons here and there on vet medicine but more of that needs doing.

Bekah, as well as Reba's eighteen year old daughter Claire, are training in communication. Both girls have a real talent for it. At some point we may ask if the other Scott (the communication specialist from OSAG) will give some lessons on the actual inner workings of the radios and other communication devices; might even be able to talk Steve into giving the girls a tour of his radio station.

All of the girls get daily doses of basic household skills. The boys get the basics as well like water management, operating and maintaining the farm equipment, and basic hunting skills. But there are other things that we aren't doing yet.

Take Bob for instance. Combining his skills with Scott's has made things a lot more productive around here. Losing either man's skill set would be a very heavy blow, possibly crippling to the plans we currently have in place. So we need to build in redundancies. One of the Cheval boys … kid's name is Charlie … is ten years of age but a good sized boy despite that. He loves to hang around and watch Bob when he is working. We figure if he is assigned to helping Bob as his apprentice that it will take some of the crap workload off of Bob … cleaning and putting tools away, cleaning up the machine shop, fetching and carrying, etc. … then we score double point. Bob gets some help, Charlie starts to learn the basics from the ground up, and eventually he can switch from apprentice to journeyman and begin to do small tasks; and once Bob is satisfied with his progress handle more and more independent projects, though still under Bob's supervision.

Bubby is also fascinated by the machine shop but five years old is a little young for anything too serious. Bubby is also a bit of a flibberty-gibbet. Bob still offered to let him be a mini-apprentice but we'll have to see how that goes.

Johnnie is always up in under Scott which is a good thing because since he was old enough to begin to manipulate items he has been into taking things apart and putting them back together, learning how to get around locks, and just in general getting into stuff. Scott has more patience for those two boys than I do. I love them both but I can't seem to find stuff to keep them busy enough to stay out of trouble. I'm the person they show off for, not the person that is the best at drawing them in line.

That still leaves all sorts of other things that need to be taught. We are going to try something a little different. Fy is going to apprentice under Glenn. I know, I know … not what you would call traditional "women's work" but we were breaking all those molds pre-NRS anyway. Frankly I wouldn't mind doing some of that stuff but my plate is full and I don't have the training. Fy seems to "get" what Glenn is talking about when he is thinking out loud to Saen. She won't actually be doing any of that kind of work right now but she is going to help him create "how to" manuals so the information doesn't just blow away in the wind. If she sticks with it she'll be kind of a generalized engineer that could oversee major projects or the other engineers that we need like chemical, electrical, etc. We don't want hyper-specialization but we do need to have more focused training than we currently are providing to the kids.

Scott has been trying to figure out what to do about Padric. The boy sometimes acts like his is afraid of his own shadow. He needs something to build his self-confidence up. Scott has noticed he enjoys drawing and likes looking at the building plans tacked up on the bulletin board in Scott's workshop. Scott is thinking about teaching him a bit of drafting. Padric is good with numbers so that's a plus.

Some of the other areas we need to work on that were brought up in the meeting included the glass works that we have planned. Consensus is making our own jars, and glass panes, is totally possible with the right supplies and equipment. We sure as heck have the sand for it. Then of course there is the boom-boom toys the boys make. I don't want the littles involved in that but I guess there is nothing wrong with some of the older teens or younger men getting in on it … J. Paul and Clay Jr. certainly seem to enjoy it if their grins are any indication. Eric Timmons, the fourteen year old that lives at Aldea, also seems to get a bang out of it. (Sorry, couldn't resist.) Then if we can get a commitment from Kim to teach weaving that would be another plus (by the way, she and Daniel are going to move into a little house outside of Sanctuary for now but we've given them a standing offer that they are welcome to come in if that eventually winds up suiting them better).

Glenn said not to forget my herbal and gardening knowledge, Reba's cheese and yogurt making, and Angus' trapping and tracking.

I think this will also be where Dawson and Emma will come into things. They've been around for a little over a month but have been taking things really slow and trying to find their footing. You know how it is when you come into a group that's well-established. I've noticed that Emma hangs out with Reba a lot. I regret not taking the time to get to know her better but I just feel so topped off with so much going on. I have just got to make myself go to more of the women's afternoon teas. I need the break and I need to keep in touch with the women I don't get to interact with as much. I know I keep saying it but I really do need to do it.

Dawson for his part seems to hang out with Cease and McElroy quite a bit. He and McElroy are likely our mechanical engineers. If it has an engine they can usually tinker it into working whether it wants to or not. Something in the tow truck blew up and I thought for sure that it had breathed its last. After about 48 hours of taking something apart, cleaning it, and then putting it back together the tow truck ran better than ever.

I'm a little worried about their son Michael. He's so quiet. He always seems to be operating on the outside. He seems to be fine with that but a guy can take the introverted thing too far. Maybe something in particular will spark his interest and he'll train for that. Success breeds success and maybe that will turn into more self-confidence. Not that he's got a problem with that but sixteen year old boys are sixteen year old boys whether they are already six feet tall or not. Something that gives him positive feedback certainly won't hurt. I will say he is a little easier in James' company now that Tris is here than before. Tris is very good natured and easy going; he probably makes a good bridge to James' more intense personality.

What it's basically come down to is that in the beginning when it was totally necessary our thinking shrunk to micro issues. While those issues are still important, it would be devastating to our community long term if we continued to think exclusively micro in nature. We don't want to just survive, we want to live and thrive.

To that end Glenn's crew's next run is going to be for rebar. He said he is going to try and run by one of those textile mills at the same time but he'll have to see. Once he brings back the rebar and the remaining concrete equipment they are going to build slip forms and start pouring a new outer Wall. It will start with observation towers that sort of look like concrete silos. After the towers are all poured then they'll pour the walls between the towers using slip forms as well. Its going to take a lot of concrete but Scott was telling me that he, Glenn, and Dix talked about a Wall that was three feet thick and eventually twenty-five feet tall.

It sounds crazy to me but a thirty-five foot silo can easily be poured in five to six days. If we have enough forms built and going at the same time then we could literally have all of the towers we want poured in a week or two at most. The slip forms for the in between Wall sections could be poured at least as quickly. Then it would be a matter of giving the concrete curing time and then we can go in and finish off the insides of the towers and reconstruct the gateway mechanisms. So let's say four to six weeks from start to finish to build the new Wall. From there go onto Aldea and from there to OSAG … or possibly, if there is enough raw material and working equipment and supplies, have more than one of these projects going at the same time. The one thing that Scott insists on this time is at least one "King Kong" gate so that we can more easily get our big equipment in and out of the compound.

As for what is to become of the storage container Wall I don't think we know for sure yet. We may do a little reconfiguring but basically leave it in place so that we have a two-perimeter Wall - an inner Wall and a Curtain Wall – or we might dismantle some of it and offer it to our satellite communities for their own security walls. But for a fact we still need the storage space that those containers have offered. At least we have options, a lot of groups out there don't.

The only concern I have is that we may draw unwanted attention to ourselves. There are some doofus people out there that can't resist a challenge. It's also going to necessitate clearing another 50 yards or so of greenery back from the outer perimeter. I really don't want to clear cut the area. I wonder if I can talk them into selectively cutting out trees. The Hive and NRSC attack did so much damage to the surrounding landscape that it may not be worth trying to save much, but there are a few fruit trees and bushes that I would hate to lose.

I suppose I could do what I did with the rose bushes. The men just kind of gave way and helped when I told them I wanted a rose garden. This was way back when we were still having to do nearly everything by hand and labor hours were a limited resource. I went around the neighborhoods in the area and nearly every rose bush I saw was dug up for replanting. Not all of them survived but most of them did. I have nearly constant blooms of some type out there and more than once I've caught a couple out romancing or a one of the men have asked me to cut them a bud to take home to their sweety. If I can dig up what I want to save and replant it then the whole point of selective cutting may be moot.

The kids were really tired come dinner time and they were nasty dirty. They washed up and some of them were falling asleep in their plates. Nana went to comment on the situation but Mr. Morris forestalled it by saying, "Not a word Winnie." After dinner and clean up every one of them ran off to bed before we could give them more chores.

It was about that time that McElroy and Dawson come back in from checking the Wall just about roaring with laughter. I still don't get what Glenn has for gnomes and elves lately; must be a guy thing or some kind of inside joke. Did I mention that Glenn drank quite a bit of Angus' mead this afternoon? Pardon for the swearing but Scott insisted I transcribe it "as is" for posterity. Did I mention that Scott had more mead than he normally does this afternoon? Hope they both wake up with nature's retribution. Humph.

* * *

On a sign outside the skunkworks area there is now a big sign with the old Nabisco Keebler Elves tree logo on it and underneath that is written:

 ** _"We are pleased to announce the opening of our new workshop, where we hope to start making all sorts of lovely treats, filled with elfin goodness and just a touch of magic. Please don't try to come in, we are very busy busting our little tiny elfish asses to cook up lovely treats for you...some old, some new._**

 ** _We'd also like to take a moment to welcome some of our cousins, the Land Gnomes and the North Pole Crew._**

 ** _With the reduction in customer base and subsequent drop in demand Santa was more than willing to waive the industry non-disclosure agreements of his little helpers in order they be able to accept positions with our newly reorganized company. Along with his best wishes and gratitude for long service, he sends some of his top elves with the rest of the crew, and has wished our new enterprise the best of success. In a public show of appreciation, the union has voted to leave a little something special in his_** ** _stocking this year. Don't drink it all at once, big guy, or Rudolf won't be the only one with a bright red nose leading the way!_**

 ** _We apologize to you big folks for receiving the silent treatment from our cousins the Land Gnomes, who've we brought in as "Industry Consultants" at the request of Tony "the Barracuda" Denitzio, the famous cement shoe magnate and waste disposal industry entrepreneur in the New York Tri-State area. Tony has expressed that he'd like to see the concrete production industry get back on its feet so he can get back to his business of putting it on other people's feet...so to speak. He feels our success is in his best interests. He suggested the boys could, "come down to make sure nobody gives you any problems", and we felt that it was just an offer we couldn't refuse. He regrets that the boys may be a bit standoffish, but they're still a bit touchy about the mistreatment they were getting every year on Halloween, with the toilet paper and eggs and all. Tony said if we "just leave them alone we won't have to worry about nobody getting cranky and losing their head over nothing"._**

 _ **All in all, we feel that over the coming months we will be able to restore your confidence in us, and that you will be greatly satisfied with our line of products, old and new, now that we are a self-managed organization.**_

 _ **Sincerely,**_  
 _ **The (FREE) Keebler Elves.**_

 _ **PS- F*** Brownies!**_

* * *

Now you can see why I think Glenn is certifiable. I think Angus must put something in that mead he brews up. Next thing you know we'll be pulling Glenn off the Wall 'cause he thinks he is seeing dragons. Pink flying dragons maybe … or maybe that should be pink flying elephants.

I still think there is something up but … I guess I'll figure it out in time. I poured Scott into bed a couple of hours ago and I need to put this typewriter away and go feed Wiggles. When that is done I'm off to bed. I've got breakfast duty in the morning and its wash day. Fun, fun.


	231. Day 273

_**Day 273 (Monday) – April 30 – Wash Day**_

Well, I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see the day again. A working washing machine. Scott calls it an early anniversary gift (it's coming up on May 7th if you can believe that).

Glenn made the prototype at Aldea and OSAG had a prototype as well. I was getting jealous – well, sorta anyway – but the reality is that we needed to set up a good work station area with a water tank with enough capacity that we weren't going to kill ourselves hauling water from all over constantly. We also needed to set up a holding tank for draining off the water. Eventually Scott said he will put in a well that will pump water into the initial holding tank so that we don't have to be dependent on a cistern set up. You'll see better as I explain how it was done.

First we had to salvage as many standard washing machines as we needed. We've started with a dozen but we found out today that we need to expand to at least fifteen for it to be really efficient like a Laundromat would be. Next we had to pour a slab for the machines to sit on so that the drums would stay balanced while they spun.

After we set the machines in place Scott opened the back of them up so he could see the v-belt that goes from the electric motor to the agitator. He dismounted the motors and removed the v-belts. Then came the strange part; he built a see-saw for the kids. Scott used a strong pipe for the axle/pivot and rigidly attached the see-saw to the axle. The axle extended far passed the area where the children play and near to the washers.

Then Scott – and Dawson who was laughing his fanny off at this point - mounted a large pulley wheel to the end of the axle, with a reciprocating arm on the pulley wheel. It kind of looked like old choo-choo train wheels. This was in turn attached to another axle using the rear sprocket of an old 10-speed bicycle and chain with a flywheel replacing the bicycle wheel. Then a series of v-belts was run in turn to the agitators.

How it works is as the kids ride on the see-saw they turn the axle, causing the wheel/arm combination to turn the flywheel in one direction (and allows it to build up more speed...the bicycle sprocket allows the flywheel to coast if the kids slow down and keeps the final axles rotation smooth and even) which is then transferred to the agitators by the v-belts. The wash cycle timer/switch are mechanical and run through any/all cycles (including the spin cycle) just as if it was still hooked up to an electrical system.

We have to add the water manually by opening the valve from the cistern but Scott rigged up pipes running above each machine with connectors and valves so we can actually fill up each machine that we need as it requires water, even all at the same time if necessary though the water pressure can get a little low.

For emptying the washers, Scott tied each outflow pipe to a larger diameter PVC pipe which he ran into a second holding tank. We have to manually empty that tank after it fills but the water is perfect for gray water. Tomorrow Mr. Morris wants to use the water to scrub down the concrete floor in the smaller barn out in the animal enclosure. The big barn has a dirt floor and the kids mucked that out yesterday. The concrete floor however needs a good scrubbing.

The only drawback I've found thus far is that we still have to boil water for the white loads but compared to what we normally had to do this is unbelievably easier. The women were so giddy that even we took turns on the see-saw and the kids started complaining. Scott also wants to hook up one of those really heavy duty commercial machines that you can wash blankets and quilts in without tearing up the machine. That will come in handy. Hopefully we'll be able to figure out replacements if we run out of V-Belts down the road.

The other thing Scott has plans to do is build a pole barn type covering for Sanctuary's "Laundromat." Right now we just have a tarp up on poles but I'm not complaining. The other thing we are considering is whether we should have a community clothes line or just keep the ones we've put up in the individual yards. I'm definitely keeping some of my lines for those in between washes of socks and under things but it would be nice to get rid of some of the lines that crisscross the yard.

Despite the magic washing machines and a couple of other things that I'll write about in a minute the day actually started out ordinarily enough. I had breakfast duty and we have things in the cooler that need to be used up or preserved. I made squash biscuits for the bread. With the yellow crookneck squash coming in hand over fist this served two purposes; it used the squash in some other way besides frying them and it helped extend our ever shrinking supply of flour. I also had the girls cut up a bunch of melon for a fruit salad type thing. Milk, coffee, and tea was on of course but I also made up some limeade now that the key lime tree is full. Gack, they are almost too sour for anything but flavoring. I wound up having to add some canned OJ to kick back the sour factor a couple of notches. Even with sugar the lime flavor was really right there in your face.

The main dish was Spanish omelets; eggs, milk, diced potatoes, cheese, and chorizo … all from our own "farmstead" supplies. I overcooked a couple of the omelets but no one complained within my hearing so I'm not going to worry about it too much.

After breakfast I left while others took over clean up duty and then got our wash going. I actually felt at loose ends the work load was so much less. Rose and Melody were practically dancing in the aisles. There was still a lot of hanging clothes on the lines and then folding or hanging clothes up once they were finished drying; but come on that beats using sticks and plungers to wash any day of the week. The new set up also makes visiting easier. Emma and Autumn were doing their washing at the same time and I had a nice chat with them.

Emma is very practical. She takes things in stride if you know what I mean. Probably a reflection on what her life was like pre-NRS and it's just transferred to the way things are now. I like that.

Autumn is practical in a different way. She was a first responder pre-NRS so she doesn't panic and Ski has been grateful to have another pair of hands to fall back on at the Clinic. Autumn is also teaching Rose and Melody some triage type things that will stabilize a patient until someone with more training can get to them. In an attack or catastrophic situation where our Clinic might get overwhelmed, triage management is a critical skill to have.

Found out more about how Cooper and Autumn have been trying to help pinpoint where the remnants of the ZKK are trading with the black marketers. The first scheduled trade they helped us find wasn't a good ambush location and zombies got in the way of the operation which was primarily carried out by Aldea and OSAG personnel. The second one the black marketers were a no-show. This is the last scheduled trade that Autumn and Cooper know of. Autumn isn't exactly certain what will be in the load as the details were a closely guarded secret that not even the Bookkeeper spoke of except directly to Zassat.

Jim and some of the young bucks from Aldea as well as Dix and Matlock are going to set up an ambush. They already know the area, it is downtown where they first met Jim. They don't plan on tangling with the blackmarketeers at all; the ambush is two streets over from the dock in question and will occur after the other party has left. All we want is to finish crippling the ZKK.

And no, it's not because we are carrying a grudge though I think David is a little too emotionally involved. Rose told me he still hasn't let Brandon's death go though he is dealing with it. No, it's that Dora and OSAG are pulling in bits and pieces that the ZKK is expanding again.

Given our losses last time a full on assault of their Westshore compound isn't our first choice. However, if we can "starve them out" then the entire ZKK system might implode on its own. So, if we get their trade which will hopefully leave them short of ammo then this in turn could give the other small families and group that they are charging "protection money" to a chance to refuse or revolt. The other thing we may have to do is pick off their patrols and whittle the number of their fighting force down a wee bit more. People who have seen the Westshore compound say that they've really reinforced things. We've had a few stories of people going in and never being seen again but we've no proof and it might just be a scare tactic.

The other thing we are hearing is that the ZKK are beginning to act as middle men for hard to acquire items. The blackmarketeers get the goods however they acquire them; whether through salvage operations, raiding, whatever. They sell the goods to ZKK at a mark up for whatever … gold or other goods was the most common though there are rumors of human trafficking. They in turn sell or barter to the locals at exorbitant mark up. This last is an expansion on what they were already doing but with goods becoming scarcer they are creating and encouraging a dependence that most of us agree is dangerous to our region.

I'm trying very hard not to get edgy about tonight's operation but James will be going without Scott or David to watch his back. Dix wants to put James on top of one of the buildings with a night scope … I think that's what he was yammering on about anyway; I lost him when he started to get technical. It attaches to the sniper's rifle that Dix gave to James and I assume that means that he can see in the dark with it. The whole lot of them left hours ago and I'm sitting her chewing my nails waiting for them to come home.

We've opted for radio silence. We don't want the ZKK leadership to easily be able to figure out what happened to their men and supplies. And as for the reason why we don't want to mess with the blackmarketeers it is because we are letting the US Military patrol group stationed nearby have them. I'll leave the explaining of things until after I hear that everyone has returned safe and sound. I'm so eat up with it that I have to let it go for now.

Before I close today's entry I'm going to transcribe Angus' sightseeing entries. Rereading what happened is just as bad the second time around as it was the first. My nerves are shot.

* * *

 ** _Sightseeing part 5_**

 ** _Having a little trouble writing, got ourselves a little banged up last night. Our well thought out plan to find out what the stormtroopers are up to turned into a rushed rescue mission instead. Then we had to be rescued ourselves by John. The storm did show up, just slower than the sky indicated. It was a nice steady rain that just kept getting stronger as time went by. The lightning started before dinner and it was pretty dark for the time of day except when the lightning made us blink._**

 ** _John decided to get the spotting scope off the roof because it was the only one they had and while he was grabbing it he saw something during a lightning flash that had him stay up there. Jim was yelling at him to get his crazy ass down from up there when John yelled down that someone was over at the industrial park. Jim told him he didn't care if somebody was there or not, he had to get down off that roof. Then John yelled down that he thought our dog was with the person over there. Well then I had John and Jim up on the roof. Just before I threatened to shoot them both off the roof they came rushing down._**

 ** _John told us as he was getting his rifle that the person he saw looked like the daughter of someone that lived in a small group east of him. The father had taken his pregnant daughter and was heading north for the radio station because the odd DJ that's on there announced they had a doctor and his girl was close to having her kid. Jim was putting on his jacket and just said "that dog's leading her right past the goons building."_**

 ** _Now I have to stop here and make a point. On more than one occasion the leaders of Sanctuary have given me huge mountains of shit because I don't follow plans. Sissy has threatened to blow up my still because I don't follow plans. Even wee Bekah has waved her little finger at me for not following plans. Here I had a plan, a well thought out plan, and I had intended to follow that plan. That being said, we charged out into the dark._**

 ** _After John unhooked the gate I told him to get his truck and get it down there as fast as he could but to stay one building over. If we were lucky Jim and I could get to the girl and Scrappy before the goons noticed them. Going as fast as we could towards the buildings took us over the road in front of their home and across a 30 yard stretch of tall grass that separated the industrial complex from the road. The grass was tall and very wet, three or four steps in and I was soaked._**

 ** _Once in the park we had to pass three other buildings before we got to the one the stormtroopers were in. The storm by this point was right on top of us, the lightning and thunder where happening at the same time and it was blinding and shook us (or at least me) to the bones. I can't believe we didn't see the lightning striking the ground as that's what it all felt like._**

 ** _Just across from the building we stopped and scanned the area in front for any sign of the girl. We didn't get there before her. She was stopped right in front of the buildings front display window bent over with her hands on her knees looking like she was catching her breath. Scrappy was right there in front of her whining and looking all around. I put my hand on Jim's shoulder just as he was about to run out there and help her. I told him ( in his ear as it was hard to hear in the storm ) not to run out there because she doesn't know him and it's likely going to scare the crap out of her and she's likely to scream and let everyone inside know we're out here._**

 ** _What came next all happened at the same time. There was a bright flash of lightning with it's boom of thunder, the girl jumped startled, and the front window of the building exploded. The window exploded because a zombie came running strait at the girl straight through the window. It was wearing the stormtroopers black uniform, and in full riot gear. But there was no doubt it was a zombie because it wasn't wearing a helmet and it was missing its right arm._**

 ** _I wasn't thinking, I just swung my rifle up and tried to get my sights on the runner. With the lightning flashes and then darkness it was hard to focus my eyes. With the both of us I figured one of us would get the shot before it got to the girl. Only Jim wasn't there with me anymore. Just when I found the girl in the dark I saw Jim slam into the runner as it was grabbing the girl. I also saw more stormtrooper zombies coming through the now open wall of the building so I swung the rifle there and started shooting. I took out the first one that came through and just as I was pulling the trigger on the second one the lightning blinded me again. I knew I had hit it but I was blinded for a second and not waiting for my eyes to adjust I started forward to get closer to help Jim if he needed it and to be able to see better being closer in the dark._**

 ** _I grabbed the girl (who was on her knees screaming) and told her to get behind me as Jim came staggering into view. Two more shamblers where walking though the opening and I raised the rifle as I walked towards Jim shooting one as I went. I never saw what hit me, John filled in the missing parts later._**

 ** _I opened my eyes to the pouring rain, and a ringing in my ears. Then I saw a zombie fly past me (through the air) and a shot from Jim's revolver turned my head. My chest felt like a truck had hit me. As my eyes found Jim in the darkness there was another flash of lightning and I saw Jim fighting with two zombies and rolled over and up. After only one running step I was stopped dead in my tracks by what was in front of me, and throwing zombies out of its way to get to me. The biggest (dead) man I had ever seen._**

 ** _It was 7 feet tall easy, and I knew it out weighed me by a lot. And it was a Rager and it was coming for me and I was scared. I don't remember drawing my shotty or lifting it but it went off just as that thing got to me. I still don't know where the shot landed on that thing, but it wasn't its head._**

 ** _Then I was lifted off the ground and straight into its mouth. I shoved the shotty in its mouth before my face got there and tried like hell to shove it down that things throat. I remember hearing another shot from Jim's gun and I was tossed aside as the zombie retched my gun out of its mouth. The shotty was gone and I didn't know where my rifle was as I lost it when I was first knocked senseless._**

 ** _As I took my feet I had my new hammer in my hand and according to John, an insane grin on my lips. I was going to die, and it was going to be a glorious death. I felt that even though I had let Jim and everyone down I was at least going to die in battle. With the hammer griped in both hands I charged the zombie as it was charging me. I got past its left grabbing arm and as I was swinging the hammer with everything I had my aim was moved by its other arm and my blow landed on its shoulder and I heard a crunch._**

 ** _Then as it grabbed the front of my jacket it hurled me straight to the ground. I managed to get a one armed swing at its head as it bent down and grabbed me again. Then I was flying, and when I landed on my left leg I felt a pop in my knee and a pain shoot up into my spine. The Rager was coming at me again, and I watched it's face explode into a red mist and it dropped right in front of me. I saw Jim sitting against the buildings wall and John off to his side with a rifle still raised to his shoulder. Then the rain started to blur my eyesight and I heard Jim say something then there was nothing._**


	232. Day 274

_**Day 274 (Tuesday) – April 30**_

I just realized that I completely mucked up my calendar dates. Scott and I kept trying to figure out what day the 7th was on so that we could maybe have a special dinner for our anniversary. I kept looking at my calendar; he kept counting the days up in his head. Turns out my journal dates are wrong. They were off by a day and I think it happened last week. This just drives me nuts when it happens; this isn't the first time I've done this. All of the commercial calendars are gone and we now are forced to make our own. It's way too easy to miss a date and throw everything off.

As far as last night's activities, everyone is back and in one piece which does my nerves a world of good. James is a little shook up though he refuses to admit it. It was his first offensive operation since his injury. Saen told me she was surprised that I let him go. As much as I hate to admit it he's going to be 17 in just a couple of months and I don't know if I could stop him. I don't agree with all the things he and Scott do but I know that at a certain point agreeing or disagreeing with them is a moot point. James is practically grown and either I trust him or I don't. I'm proud to say I trust my son. I have to act like I do and just let it go at that as much as possible.

The convoy pulled into Sanctuary a little after two in the morning. They would have been home before that but they wound up having to detour around the area nearest where the blackmarketeers and the military were going at it near the shore line. That meant backtracking to a different part of the city and then cutting across until they could get to us.

James explained how it went down from his vantage on top of a building where he had a view of the drop and of the ambush point. The drop point was near where Kennedy Blvd crosses over the Hillsborough River where it pours into Hillsborough Bay. The bridges to Davis Island had been dropped as had the bridge to Harbor Island so neither location would have been good for the land-bound ZKK though James said it looked like the blackmarketeers might use both islands as staging points on occasion.

All of our people were in position well before the scheduled drop, and a good thing too because the blackmarketeers sent people ashore in advance of the ZKK showing up. When they apparently didn't find anything they backed off and then waited for the ZKK to show up which occurred around 10 o'clock.

First thing the ZKK wanted to take possession of the goods, but the blackmarketeers wanted payment first. James said he thought they were going to get into a fight and our whole plan would have been for nothing but when I asked later, Dix said it was nothing but macho posturing. What I didn't like was the "currency" they were using.

The stories of human trafficking turned out to be truth rather than fiction. James said there were a couple dozen females, from young tweens to maybe 30s at the oldest. What he actually said was, "You don't have to worry about that Mom, they were only taking young women." What is it about people picking on my age recently? The problem is that James was dead serious, he thought he was comforting me. How do you respond to that kind of earnestness but to let it go?

What James did wonder about, and some of the other men made more concrete guesses at, was whether the females had been drugged or something because none of them were crying or making a fuss or anything. We've already seen that the ZKK are capable of cooking up drugs so I tend to agree with Jim that the women/girls were all dosed to the gills to keep them compliant and quiet but still mobile enough so that they didn't have to be carried.

After the women were stored below deck it ran just like the first time, the blackmarketeers made the ZKK do all of the manual labor off-loading their purchases; and then held them under gun point before they pulled away and down the channel. At that point the ZKK loaded everything up into the back of the two military style transporters they brought with them.

When they took off there was a driver and gunner in the lead vehicle which was a jeep; an old Jeep brand Jeep rather than one of those fancy military style things that you occasionally see burnt out on the side of the roads around town. The jeep had a mounted gun in the back, I forget the number or whoseewhatsit that Dix called it. All I know is looking at it now it sure does look like a close relative of the 50 caliber machine guns that we have mounted on the Wall. The next two vehicles were the transports with a driver and gunner each. Bringing up the rear was a little Toyota truck with another mounted gun that was a twin to the one in the jeep; this one also had a driver and gunner.

This jived with what Cooper had said about the ZKK leadership always using the fewest men possible to meet with the blackmarketeers so that there were fewer people who could say where the drops occurred or what went on when they did … or how much they had to pay for things too probably. Either way you looked at it, we were still left with a better ratio of men to theirs. Not quite a 2:1 but close. We would have had a 2:1 ratio but the guys from OSAG had to beg off; they've got a bad stomach virus going on over there, or possibly food poisoning. Phillip had a cold and let someone else run his kitchen, what came next hasn't been pretty for them. Saen and I packed up a bunch of broth, some pretzels, and some extra Imodium and David took us by so we could drop it off.

Anyway, as soon as they pulled out James keyed his mic to let Dix know. They had specific landmarks he was to key his mic as soon as the lead vehicle came abreast of them. The ambush took place on a stretch of road that wasn't much more than an narrow alley way between two old three-story brick buildings. The alley way was two truck lengths longer than their convoy. As soon as the Toyota was all the way inside the alley, a large black NRSC panel truck was driven across the mouth of the alley to keep them from going forward. Then a small pipe bomb was used to drop the corner of one of the buildings to keep the convoy from being able to back up.

We didn't even have a chance to offer them terms though I suspect none were going to be offered anyway. At that point James' job was two-fold; he was to keep anyone from being able to use the gun mounted on the Toyota and he was to keep anyone from escaping by climbing over the debris. The jeep's gun was covered by the men already at the front of the alley way.

James said it happened so fast that even he was stunned. The men on the ground reported that the gunner in the jeep and the Toyota started heading for the big guns. The drivers were all reaching for their guns as well. However only the two men in the second transport had the opportunity to put up a real opposition and it was only cussing and threatening; telling them how many ways they planned on killing our guys. For our part they weren't given a chance after that; eight shots through homemade silencers and eight newly dead – and staying dead – ZKKers.

It got a little hairy at that point. James' vantage point gave him a partially obstructed view of the port area and he noticed flashes on the water. He heard as well as saw a battle start up the blackmarketeers fleeing a Coast Guard vessel. James also spied a vessel preventing the blackmarketeers' boat from heading back up the channel.

Dix came pounding up the stairs to get James so they could haul butt out of there but then stayed a moment as he sorted out a new escape route. They couldn't leave the same way that the ZKK came in just in case they had left a spotter or two. The next best escape route was out because of fired ammunition from both the Coast Guard vessel and the blackmarketeer boat was hitting the shoreline and the noise was already drawing a large number of infecteds that still contaminated the entire downtown area. Another route took them too close to the Westshore area of town and inside ZKK territory. The remaining route that required the least jagging and jogging would take them furthest away from the direction that they wanted to go, but there wasn't any choice.

As soon as Dix and James were back in the alley way the panel truck was moved and our whole group headed out, now with four extra vehicles and a "boatload" of new supplies. What is it about puns lately? I keep running into them whether I mean to or not.

Everyone bunked down at Aldea for what remained of the night. It was all over the radio the next day about a big battle between a joint Coast Guard/Navy taskforce and several blackmarketeer boats. There hadn't been just one boat out there, there had been three; only the one loaded with supplies for the ZKK had come to shore. The other two must have been hidden on the other side of the Davis or Harbor island and only come out because they thought they could outnumber the one Coast Guard vessel … they didn't realize there was one blocking one of the channels and one further out in the Bay waiting to see if they were needed. Hostages were rescued, press gang kidnappees released on probation, prisoners taken, the US Military forces in the area had their reputation go up a notch, and the blackmarketeers got a black eye. You'd think that was the end of the story.

Nope. Late this afternoon from what we have been able to piece together the blackmarketeers moved against the ZKK stronghold at Westshore. They must have thrown everything at it but the kitchen sink and a small nuclear device. They made it pretty plain that they blamed the ZKK for tipping off the military as to their location. Showed what they knew. Good thing we made our tip anonymously. Dix said that it sounded like they had used a rocket launcher to open the Westshore stronghold's gate after they were refused entry. They took everything they considered valuable, including all the woman and girl children, and gutted everything else. It was a bloodbath and they left the compound unusable. Whoever is running that group of blackmarketeers has too much firepower … and too much nastiness … for us to want to tangle with them.

The situation has made Glenn move up his timetable for going after rebar by a couple of days. He plans to try and stay to the south of us in the Clearwater/Sarasota area as they were working on a long stretch of interstate down that way and he hopes to find rebar and lots of cement materials all congregated in one place. The other place he's going to go is all of the construction sites that are in and around the Tampa Airport area. They've been building there for five years and still haven't managed to finish it and everywhere you look is piles of that rock and junk to make road sections as well as rebar by the mile … or at least there was pre-NRS. I don't know what it looks like these days. He says if he has time he is going by one or more of those textile places too. Saen has given him quite a list of things she wants him to look for but at least one of them is no longer an emergency.

The single guys didn't think much of some of about a quarter of the take from the ZKK haul. The women however breathed a heavy sigh of relief (as did their men). Lots and lots of feminine hygiene products. That stuff is getting as scarce as hen's teeth. Having people pregnant has helped with that some but without some resupply things are gonna get rough.

A little over a quarter of the haul was ammo. Don't ask me what it was but no one is turning their nose up at it. What we can't use becomes barter goods. It's all new stuff as well, no reloads. Where they are getting it would be a good question to have answered. We've got lots of theories but no hard facts to base them on.

There was a large case of fresh batteries still in their original packaging which would have fetched a hefty price. Another couple of cases held those little one-pound propane canisters. There were about six cases of mixed antibiotics. Waleski – and Chad after he had a chance to weigh in – said more than like the medicines were all from a salvage operation of some kind. Some of the antibiotics were close to being out of date. The Tetracycline was out of date and will likely be disposed of. Tetracycline is one of the medicines that a "use by" date really is important because it will go bad and get poisonous. The remaining cases were canned and dried food.

These medications actually work really well with some of the pro bono work we plan to provide to children on Market Days. Iggy thought of this. For kids twelve years of age and under we will provide pro bono health services, over twelve but under-eighteen it will depend on what it is; adults will have to trade for assistance. Aside from the obvious moral issues, this will also give us a good reputation that will help with allies. OK, that sounds a little mercenary but it isn't really meant to be. I consider it more along the lines of killing two birds with one stone.

That only left the six barrels to inventory. Two of the barrels contain cooking oil, a valuable commodity these days when fats are getting hard to come by in the diet. Two of the barrels contained very coarse cornmeal and the last two barrels contained flour. Both the cornmeal and the flour had weevils in it so I've "quarantined" them from the other food stuff and I helped to sift and re-bag all of it so it could be put in the cooler/freezer to kill off any bugs that made it through the sifting process. The cooking oil wasn't the best either but it wasn't used, just wasn't the highest grade.

The stuff in the barrels is probably a product of post-NRS production facilities. That would explain their apparent lower quality. Now whether they came from the states – Free Zone or Quarantine Zones – or whether from Mexico we have no way of knowing for sure. I wouldn't put it past the blackmarketeers to be involved in international trade of some kind. It's been like that since the beginning of time and it all depends on whose side you are on as to whether it's a good thing or bad. Think the old privateer ships. Some people called them pirates and some people called them patriots.

That cornmeal and flour wasn't the only thing I was prepping for the Cooler today. Our gardens are still producing more than we are eating right away. By this coming Thursday's food prep day we'll have more than we can handle getting it preserved. What I harvested yesterday and today: Romano bush beans, sunset runner pole beans, Henderson bush lima beans, Dixie baby butter beans, wren's egg dried bush beans, Clemson spineless okra, red burgundy okra, star of david okra, golden scallop summer squash, yellow crookneck summer squash, All Blue Potatoes, black diamond watermelons, Georgia rattlesnake watermelons, Louisiana sweet watermelons, moon and stars yellow fleshed watermelons, orange fleshed watermelons, boothby's blonde cucumbers, double yield pickles, Japanese climbing pickles, Parisian pickling cucumbers, tendergreen burpless cucumbers, west Indian gherkin pickles, white wonder cucumbers. The yellow, orange, and pink fleshed watermelons are going to make a really neat fruit salad to go with breakfast tomorrow. Betty wants to make blue mashed potatoes for dinner tomorrow to see if Kevin will eat them. Seems like Kevin is not quite as adventuresome in the new food department as I gave him credit for being. This ought to be fun.

After a late night I'm tired so even though I could probably keep writing – this really is therapeutic for me – I'm going to sign off and go to bed. Tomorrow promises to be another full day.


	233. Day 275

_**Day 275 (Wednesday) – May 1**_

I was blessed with quite a bit of alone time today. The kids were either in school, doing chores, or starting their apprentice programs. The kids that weren't assigned to a specific apprentice program are now jealous and are asking for an assignment.

Some of the things I had planned to do got rained out. I wanted to go back up to that warehouse and collect some bamboo starts … or whatever you call them, "shoots" maybe. Saen couldn't have gone anyway what with Glenn and a crew of guys leaving earlier than expected to go after rebar, fabric and a list of other things as long as my arm. I guess our collecting will have to wait a couple of days but I really want to get some of the little baby bamboo.

I'm not gratuitously just wanting to go and collect plants for the heck of it. Saen, thanks to her Thai heritage, was exposed to some of the more esoteric uses for things as well as having a slightly different view from others. For instance, when thinking framing and building, she is more likely to think bamboo when the rest of us would thing traditional wood. When thinking floor mats she thinks plant fiber rather than synthetics or woven animal fibers. In fact, many of the things she was raised with were more "organic" and renewable than what many of us are used to.

I don't mean organic in terms of no fertilizers, chemicals, etc. No, I mean organic in sustainability and plant vs. animal origins. She also has a keen idea for the different types of bamboo and what they can be used for. For instance, when I brought back a few of the smaller canes of the bamboo up at those warehouses we searched she got really excited … bouncy excited. The bamboo is a variety commonly called "Moso" and it is a very versatile bamboo. Aside from being one of the largest grown in the US, it is also the type of bamboo that you can make cloth out of. Yep, cloth.

Apparently the procedure is similar to flax. You beat the bamboo all to flinders, then it is soaked and soaked and soaked to separate the bamboo fibers from the wood. I didn't understand all of it but you can use caustic soda (aka Lye) to the beat up bamboo to do a better job of separating out the bamboo fibers. Once these fibers are drained, rinsed, and dried you are left with these flax like fibers that you can then spin into thread and then the thread is woven into fabric.

The problem is that I have absolutely no clue how to go from the fiber stage to the thread stage. Hopefully that is where Kim is going to come in. I hope to talk to her tomorrow about the whole process and see what she thinks about it. I also want to do what Mr. Choi's group is doing. They are planting bamboo that will ultimately grow into a thick, impenetrable hedge or living "Wall" of sorts.

One of the things about bamboo cloth is that it will absorb roughly 30% more than the same amount of cotton fabric will. This will make it great for summer clothing and for replacing the disposable feminine hygiene products we will eventually run out of whether due to availability or barter cost. There are simply some things that a girls gotta have but if we can find a work around to having to pay so doggone much for things we'll be better off in the long run even if it is different than we might initially be comfortable with.

It wasn't just bamboo I was thinking of however. Everyone was really busy so I pretty much just planted this month's crops myself. I had already marked all the rows off and prepped them so that planting was pretty much a breeze. I planted several varieties bush beans, several varieties of pole beans, lima beans, cantaloupes, okra, black eyed peas, sweet potatoes, summer squash, collard greens, peanuts, peppers, and pumpkins. It's nowhere near as much as I put in the ground last month so that left me with thinking time while I did the drone work.

It has been nine months since I started my journal and all heck broke loose. Nine months – long enough to bury too many people and to witness several births for the next generation. Our defensive Wall has already had three versions and now we are going to build a fourth … and final … version that really will resemble the castles of the early medieval period … except instead of blocks of limestone, granite, or sandstone, it will be of slip poured concrete; a measure of ancient and modern history rolled into one. Our whole lives seemed to be reaching that point.

We are mixing ancient technologies with modern ones for so many of the things we now do. Solar panels and trebuchets. Radio waves and spot lights made from candles and mirrors. Salvaging items left over from the modern world and using them to build items that would have been common place and recognizable to the ancients. If I really sit down and think about it, it's completely mind blowing. And I did some thinking today.

I don't think any of us really expected the black marketers would have the kind of fire power they did. It makes me wonder if that kind of stuff is just laying around out there for anyone to pick up or whether they are being supplied by a post-NRS arms dealer of some type. Around these parts the US military's clean up took everything but the kitchen sink as far as we can tell. Only permanently disabled vehicles were left and many of them were stripped of anything potentially useful. The military did leave us a few crumbs but I think that was a one-off situation because they were in a position to be generous and wanted to make allies. Their previously stated interest in the blackmarketeers should have given us an inkling of how powerful or problematic that group was; on the other hand it could be a matter of hindsight being 20/20. At this point it doesn't necessarily matter.

Because of how far up Hillsborough River the blackmarketeers appear to be traveling, those over in Aldea are considering proactive defensive features down river; chains across the river, dropping bridges that would create obstruction for any but the shallowest boats, dropping trees across narrow parts of the river to develop as snags, etc.

But I for one want to have nothing to do directly with the blackmarketeers. They are in a completely different category of fighters from everyone we have faced up to this point. Look at how easily and completely they wiped out the ZKK with a single attack. OK, so we did have something to do with whittling that group down more than just a tad as well as disorganizing it when we took off the snake's head, but still … that's some gall to use a rocket launcher just to open a door with. That says to me that they have enough to waste on show-off antics and that's not a good thing.

The blackmarketeers have also managed to do something that I avoid perhaps more than I should. My day to day worries are those people and things in my immediate sphere of influence. My family, the communities of Sanctuary, Aldea, and OSAG and in a wider sense those now residing in what we consider the TTT or The Triune Territory. At most I think about what might be going on across town and within a certain delineated area in Florida. Nothing else I thought could really touch me or mine or influence our lives in the here and now.

The blackmarketeers have proven that I was wrong. The US military should have done that but they weren't enough. With the NRSC out of our lives, at least for now, I haven't really been taking the time to give them much thought. But those weapons are coming from some place. And those reports of some fairly devastating fighting across what remains of the USA aren't just stories on the radio any more.

Scott is really pushing to go on a run to the north. Now that we have two barrels of flour and two barrels of corn meal you would think that the urgency would have gone down. The opposite is true. Talk, talk, talk, push, push, push … I know I can't fight it forever. I can see he actually needs to take make such a trip. And now James wants to go as well.

How on God's green earth am I supposed to sit here quietly like the good little wife and just let both of them drive away into who knows what kind of mess?! I'll admit it here when I might not every admit it out loud; that hurts. It feels like I'm being abandoned. Oh, logically and academically I know that isn't true but emotionally it absolutely does. They are so eager for adventure, to stretch their legs, that they can't see anything else. I'm the one that is left at home with this huge responsibility of keeping the family together. They know the risks yet they still want to take them.

Thinking about that I wasn't in any mood to come to lunch. I couldn't even have laughed at the face Kevin made over the lavender colored mashed potatoes. I spent the hour trying to work through my anger and hurt by digging in the dirt and burying it all there. I have a feeling though that they aren't going to stay buried; just thinking about it again to write things down has me upset all over again.

After I had regained my composure I forced myself to stick to more practical matters that I could actually do something constructive about. Primarily we are going to have to do something about all the stuff we have in plastic tubs and bins. Running the rats out of the storage containers that held the fabric only sent them into other locations. How one got into the food Storehouse I don't know and Scrappy caught and killed two that had been beneath the Cooler. The one in the food Storehouse gorged on of the last of the dried apples we had by chewing through the plastic canister I had them in. The ones under the Cooler had gotten to a little wiring and insulation but not the coolant lines thank goodness.

We are moving all of the food stuffs that we can into glass or metal containers and out of any that are in containers with plastic lids. Hurray for all of those metal tins and glass bottles they helped. And Glenn has drawn up some blue prints for a glassworks station that Tris took an immediate interest in. His stepmother was one of those modern day hippie types that were all back to nature and artsy-craftsy. He's even blown glass before in an artisan program he was in two years ago. By this time next year we may be trading excess jars that we make right here in Sanctuary. Cool beans.

But next year isn't soon enough and we need bulk storage options. Even the Clinic hasn't been without problems. A family of mice got into a storage closet. It wasn't bad enough that they chewed holes in a bunch of gauze pads and rolls; oh no, they also got into some of the meds. The mice that ate the medicine all died but that was an awful expensive bit of mice poison. Scott is in the process of replacing all of the old kitchen cabinets in the Clinic with metal storage cabinets. It's not a perfect solution but it is better than nothing.

As for the bulk storage of items I may have hit on a solution. Why I didn't see it before is beyond me. I think it was thinking about the modern vs. ancient things this morning. Big clay pots. They are all over town even now. I know for a fact there are still a large number of them in Busch and Lowry because I was there not that long ago. I've even got some here that have been starring me in the face. I had put them aside for when I needed to transplant any of my potted trees. How could I have been so blind?

The rats have been so bad that I've had to leave a couple of the dogs in the cornfield. The cats have gotten so ferocious that I haven't seen a rat in either of the barns plus Lucky came back and has another litter of kittens that she is feeding. Normally I wouldn't want to have that many cats around but frankly I don't see any choice if we don't want to be eaten out of house and home.

And when the corn is ready for harvest all of it is going to need to be stacked and dried and then shucked and shelled. Rather than putting it in silos as we had thought of doing … at least for the coming year's supply … we'll store it in those clay pots. Some of those things at Busch Gardens are half as tall as me or better. So that is one thing solved. We can even put fabric in the smaller clay pots though it may not be the most convenient storage method. At least we won't have to worry about more rat damage. We need to cut their food supply off and then cut their numbers down.

For some reason … possibly my worry about Scott and James going on a northern run … I was also thinking more about the zombies than I had in quite some time. We'd gotten some idea of the different types and why infecteds went that way but there has to be more to the virus than that. I worried at that bone for a while and then hung everything up for the night to get the kids and myself washed up for dinner. I was starving by that point.

Synchronicity strikes again. Steve had a real bizarre guy on his radio show tonight. This guy claims to be a doctor that had been working at the CDC trying to determine the origin of the NRS virus. Apparently, he was able to prove his identification significantly enough that Steve replayed a conversation where the good doctor was pontificating on what he knew and what he suspected.

* * *

 ** _Thank you for having me on tonight. My name is Dr. Z. Jager and my specialties include microbiology and virology. I worked in the Atlanta offices of the CDC until the facility was compromised in August of last year._**

 ** _We know NRS, a virus, causes the reanimation of dead humans. Yet, how NRS is transmitted is extremely inconsistent between cases. Injected infected fluids into an otherwise healthy human doesn't need to be present for reanimation to occur. In layman's terms I mean that a person doesn't necessarily have to be bitten to become infected. This was a contradiction that we hadn't been able to reconcile scientifically before all of the CDC facilities were compromised._**

 ** _A small contingent of scientists escaped the collapse of the CDC in Atlanta and we've been hiding out while continuing to work on the conundrum that is NRS. One hypothesis that is that NRS virus, starting out as a necrotizing bacterium or a virus with a necrotizing component; the second is more scientifically valid in light of modern science. At some point this naturally occurring virus began to mutate. Why the mutation occurred or what caused it is still unknown. However, some evidence is that it was a microbe that did it. Again in layman's terms you could think that a virus and a microbe mated and produced the bastard child NRS._**

 _ **Bare with me as I digress. In a particular area of Arizona there is a microbe in the soil that causes a condition known as "Valley Fever", if you stay in that area for any length of time you contract it. It is even known to affect animals. The reactions for most people are insignificant cold/flu – like symptoms which pass quickly. However some people and animals suffer severe adverse effects which manifest themselves in several different ways. In very rare cases even leading to death(usually from underlying conditions).**_

 _ **In my own research I began to think of NRS in the same way. People contract it casually in some manner – from the soil, in the water, contaminated food sources, etc. However a healthy living person's immune system is able to suppress it. My testing had gone so far as to draw blood samples from supposedly infection-free live specimens. I would say roughly 60% of the specimens showed some level of NRS infection. It appeared that most of the specimens were able to force the infection into dormancy. Those specimens with a compromised immune system had the highest number of parts per million of the virus.**_

 ** _One of my colleagues, not unfortunately deceased, was working on a study that might explain why some speci … hmmm, I beg your pardon … survivors appear to be so susceptible to minor illnesses. Of course, this could also be due to the stress inherent in the current lifestyle of many survivors. Stress also suppresses the immune response._**

 ** _As outlandish as many laymen may find this, this would even explain why a bite appears to cause death and reanimation so quickly. The infected fluids are transmitted directly to tissue and blood stream overwhelming the body's immune response. Organs quickly shut down bringing death and then reanimation. The speed of the reanimation may be due to the amount of infected cells or could be a result of blood type or … frankly, as much as I hate to admit it, this is a piece of the puzzle that still eludes us._**

 ** _This explanation however, also may explain why some people reanimate and some do not. The delivery mechanism may not matter. What matters is the human body's immune response. It is possible, though certainly an untested hypothesis at this point, that a small enough sample of virus may act as a live attenuated vaccine for some people. That would mean that a small percentage of individuals would actually be immune to the NRS virus completely. Of course various other factors could come into play such as blood type – already acknowledge as playing a significant role in the virus' manifestation – or some other chemical or environmental factor._**

* * *

At this point Steve turned off the recording and mentioned that while it is possible that Dr. Jager, and those scientists still working with him, were well intentioned he was personally warning anyone that was asked to donate blood or tissue for sampling. There are flyers out throughout the Quarantine Zones asking for anyone that has been bitten but who as not turned to report to the nearest military or NRSC facility. To me that sounds like an E Ticket ride straight to hell.

But, the doctor did give us all something to think about. It didn't change how we managed illnesses and sanitations but it was something we filed away for later. Nana got a little upset by the idea that she could be infected already – she's a bit of a germophobe – but otherwise there wasn't widespread panic or consternation. Most just shrugged their shoulders and if they said anything at all they said, "Well, what are we supposed to do about it? It is what it is."

I feel like I've been doing too much of that lately … "it is what it is so what am I supposed to do about it?" On the other hand, getting bent out of shape over something I can't change isn't exactly a healthy response either. Wouldn't it be lovely if I could just wave a magic wand and have all the answers? Dang, I really need to get that crystal ball out of the shop.


	234. Day 276

_**Day 276 (Thursday) – May 2 – Food Prep Day**_

I was very introspective yesterday. Today there wasn't a lot of time for it. I suppose if I let myself I could go all dark and moody now that everyone is asleep and there is no one to interrupt but honestly … I'm not really in the mood for it; I just want to enjoy the quiet.

I worked my rear bumper off today and that's usually good for most of the emotional stuff that ails a person; at least that is always good for helping me to get re-balanced. At the very least it helps keep things in perspective.

My work day was primarily focused on food preservation. Part of that included McElroy, David, Lee, Jack, Theo … and a guy named Ben from Mr. Choi's group … going in search of the big pots I mentioned yesterday. I noticed that some of the other group members looked kind of chagrined when I brought it up as well. At least I don't feel so bad about it since I wasn't the only one who missed the obvious. Mr. Choi smiled and nodded and gave me a thumbs up; high praise for a man that is normally very laconic and austere looking. After the salvage crew brought the first load of pots back Jim went with them for the second and third loads as some of them were very heavy even after then had been empties. Those they didn't bother emptying I had them dump the contents into the large raised bed that I'm still trying to fill.

While out Jim spotted a real herd of deer foraging within the grounds of Busch Gardens. Normally you see deer in twos and threes, maybe four, but it is more than that is rare around here. Jim said there had to be two dozen of the small white tails that roam in this part of Florida despite encroachment into their habitat over the years. He brought back three. That thinned the herd but not too far.

Harvested a bunch of celery today. It wasn't as pretty as what you once could get in the grocery but it was a nice change of pace. For snacks we filled some celery with cheese, or peanut butter, or a fruity cream cheese kind of thing that Reba makes. We continue to bring in lots of beans, peppers, melons, tomatoes, and we've also started getting in the winter squash a few at a time. We are drying what we can to save our jars and freezer space. I know Glenn is really sure that the glassworks will be able to make jars but I've learned that until I have an item in my hot little hands, I need to proceed as if I'm not going to get any more. Eventually salvaging operations are simply not going to turn up the items we need. We need to be able to make the items ourselves or trade for them somehow.

We are being forced to do a lot of things for ourselves these days. Scott and I always imagined ourselves self-sufficient – or at least much more so than our neighbors – but there was always a store handy and money to spend in those stores. We've still got the money – it's amazing how much sheer wealth was simply left lying around in the homes we've salvages even if you take away paper money – just no stores to spend it in. The only person taking "money" at the last Market Day was the ammo guy and only for gold coins or old coins with a high silver content. Bring your barter skills or go home empty handed these days and even then you can't be sure that what you need is actually going to be available.

Tomorrow Saen and I and a couple of other people are going to try and get that bamboo; the sooner the better. Before too much longer the grass is going to start getting impossibly long and snake-y up there making the job ten times more difficult than it needs to be.

While I was busy preserving, Scott was laying the ground word for the new Wall. He and Dix were out surveying and putting stakes out most of the day. I have a hard time envisioning everything they want to enclose. It is an absolutely massive undertaking. Reminds me somewhat of the places I once studied with the kids like Windsor and Dover Castles (England), Edinburgh Castle (Scotland), Malbork Castle (Poland), and Prague Castle. It's complicated by having to make sure we don't run the Wall through seasoning swamping wetlands. That's why Scott has to be there for every step.

Other complications include clearing additional land and the sheer volume of concrete it is going to require to build the new Wall which we will call the outer wall or curtain wall. Actually cleaning will partially solve the material shortage. Rather than have a traditional pure concrete pour, the construction crew will reuse the concrete footers and slab foundations of any buildings we demolish by breaking them down into pieces no bigger than a bowling ball and mixing them with concrete. Scott's only worry is to make sure there are no air pockets in the pour.

Basically what we are going to do since our work crews will be somewhat limited in numbers is first the outline of the outer wall will be cleared. While the area is being cleared a dry moat will be dug around outside of the wall. The dry moat will begin as a slope so that twenty feet out it is nine feet deep. We are still working on how wide the dry moat will be before it more sharply returns back up to ground level. We are calling it a "dry" moat because that is likely what it will start as; however it may seasonally be filled with water, much like the retention ponds that were built when they widened US41.

After the dry moat is dug we start on the footers and foundations for the towers that will be on the corners of the curtain wall. The slip forms will be built concurrently while the dry moat is dug and set in place as soon as the corners are ready to go. We will pour concrete in the mornings to allow maximum drying time during the heat of the day and in the afternoons we'll switch to digging and pouring the footers and foundations for the four gates … front, rear, and two pedestrian gates.

When the four corner towers are completely poured they'll move the slip forms – and any additional ones that had been built in the mean time – to the remaining tower locations and being to pour them. There will be a total of sixteen or seventeen towers because the area we are enclosing is so large. When we get to that point we'll continue to pour in the morning but the afternoon will be devoted to digging and pouring the footers and foundations for the straight sections of the wall.

The main difference between the towers and the straight sections is that the towers will be poured in a traditional slip process with each tower basically being the same as a concrete silo. The straight walls will be poured in sections so that it's almost like block on block. But we will use the same material for both which will give continuity.

The towers and gate structures will be a consistent three feet thick. The towers will be forty feet tall and twenty feet in diameter. The two main gate structures will be forty feet tall and thirty feet square at the base; a squatty rectangular shape with an inner and outer gate like we have right now.

The base of the curtain wall will be five feet wide and the top will measure four feet wide. This will add strength and stability to the wall but it is also a security feature that will help deflect projectiles. Each straight section will be twenty-five tall plus five feet tall alternating crenellations on both sides. The section of pour directly beneath the crenellations is actually designed to be a trough two feet deep. Add the five foot crenellations and even our tallest survivor won't have to worry about their heads sticking above the concrete structures while they are on the wall walk.

Eventually we will add a "roof" to the wall walk that will serve multiple purposes. The primary purpose of the roof is to provide extra protection to anyone walking up there … both against attack and against the elements. The secondary, though potentially as important, is to feed into a large water catchment system where rain water is directed into several concrete water cisterns that will be built against the interior of the curtain wall. We will also build one on the outside of the curtain wall. The exterior cistern will be made available to our satellite communities in time of drought.

The towers will also serve multiple purposes. They will have four floors plus a roof top with crenellations around the edge. The towers will be for observations, communication, housing and mounting the larger weapons and the weapons that require wider range of motion, housing the spotlight system, sniper stands, etc. The bottom floor will be windowless. Floors two, three, and four will have loop holes. These loopholes will serve traditional purposes – light, air, or shooting through. Each tower will also be fitted with a dumb waiter or elevator system for raising and lowering supplies and larger pieces of equipment. All four floors will also be bisected into a room for storage, sleeping chambers, etc. For now we are not planning to roof over the tops of the towers although we will likely provide some sun shade up there.

Scott thinks the towers and gateways will take six weeks to two months to complete with constant effort. The straight sections will require other six weeks to two months to tie into the towers. But the curtain wall aren't the only structures we want to build this year. Concurrent with the curtain wall will be the communication silo built on the same location it currently inhabits which is around the old cell tower. We also have plans to build storm shelters and concrete food storage facilities. If we still have materials left over after all the things we have to do we may replace the two aluminum barns with concrete barns. All of these projects will easily take us through the remainder of the year and that's assuming we have no major interruptions like successive tropical storms, fires, material shortages, or broken equipment.

Something odd happened today. Yesterday Bubby took a spill. I thought the boys had been rough housing again but Johnnie and Al swore that they weren't. Padric said it looked like Bubby had simply tripped over his own feet. Well, it's not like I haven't had clumsy kids before but he complained off and on about his hip the rest of the day. I didn't think much of it because he fell on gravel. Today he had an awful bruise on that side. The bruise looked a lot worse than what I would have expected from a minor fall like that. Once we started to think about it though Scott and I agree that Bubby hasn't been acting like himself for about a week now. We put it down to a stage he was going through, he is a moody kid to begin with. But that bruise bothers me.

Scott and I took him over to the Clinic first thing this morning after we saw the bruise but they can't find anything specific. He didn't hit his head so there isn't much chance of a concussion. We don't know what to think. All we can do is watch him.

Well, it has started raining. That's good for the stuff I planted yesterday and today. I have a major experiment started after talking to Kim. I had some seeds that I had just for kicks – white, green, and brown cotton. The green and brown varieties are rare heirlooms that I picked up at a plantation in Georgia when we were vacationing, before NRS changed our lives so completely. It will be September before I know whether the experiment has been worth my time and sweat but what have I got but time? With the cotton we can have bamboo, cotton, alpaca, and angora to spin and weave in addition to the coarser hair of the goats, lamas and other farm animals.

As soon as I turn out the lantern I'm going to get Scott up for his shift on the Wall and then crawl into bed. I need to get up early as I'm part of the breakfast crew again. I hope I patched all of the Scott's rain gear well enough so that no rain can run down his neck like it did last time.


	235. Day 277

_**Day 277 (Friday) – May 3 – Cleaning Day**_

Today was cleaning day at home. When I finally got home from our salvaging operation I had to do a lot of cleaning of myself. I was covered in mud, ticks, and I even had a leach on the back of my arm … that hitch hiker probably got picked up when I was running through the swamp. But I suppose if things are to make the most sense I better start at the beginning.

This morning started out very promising. The early morning was clear and had a lower humidity than what we had any right to expect. I found out tonight that Dix heard on the navy frequency there was an early storm out in the Gulf and it was probably pulling all of the moisture out of our area which is the likely reason for the unseasonably nice weather.

I had breakfast duty and fixed cornmeal pancakes with fruit syrup made from Jell-O and fried up some slices of leftover fresh pork ham that had been baked yesterday. The ever present fruit bowl was there for whoever wanted it. Luckily, the majority of the time if you cook you don't have to clean, so I put my emptied plate in care of the kids and Charlene and I went to tell Scott we were leaving.

No school today so I asked Charlene if as part of her apprenticeship (I'm her mentor apparently) she wanted to go with me to help dig up bamboo. Charlene is fairly self-contained; reminds me of Rose a bit in that respect. On the other hand she is much more outdoorsy and earthy than Rose is so in that respect she reminds me more of Sarah and Bekah. Either way she fits in easily with our family and readily gave up her free time to come on the outing.

We were taking two vehicles; a truck that Conrad had converted to AldeaFuel and an old late-80s diesel VW vanagon that had seen better days. I drove the truck with Charlene and Saen (who had been dropped off this morning by one of the Aldea patrols). Dawson drove the vanagon and it carried Ben, Mr. Choi, Emma, Cooper, and Autumn who was acting as our medic. Waleski has taken to sending a medic along when he can arrange it. Seems he doesn't quite trust the "civilian element" not to get hurt. Of course when he was saying it he was looking square at me and Scott gave him a clap on the shoulder as they passed one another. Don't tell me there aren't male chauvinists in our group.

I thought Angus was going to come but he wasn't feeling too hot; he's picked up a cold from the kids I think. In hindsight I'm glad he stayed at the compound; his knee wouldn't have taken kindly to all the knocking about that we endured. Fy stayed at Aldea working on some figures that Glenn had left her as her "homework."

There was nothing interesting to catch our attention all the way to the warehouse area near US54. Even the few shamblers that we spotted were boring and little more than bags of walking bones. I figure these must be some of the oldest ones and decomposition was finally catching up with them. Saen, Charlene, and I discussed the potential life span of the oldest zombies and whether we would have to face another Hive. I brought up a couple of things that the odd Dr. Jager pointed out but with no way to determine how long the decomposition process was ultimately going to take we have no way of knowing when the greater majority of zombies will eventually "die" off.

We arrived at the complex of warehouses in due course and it didn't take us long to get hot, sweaty, and dirty. Firs we cut a bunch of the moso bamboo to take back and beat up and then put in the enzyme bath that Saen prescribed. It is some nasty stuff that she had Glenn mix up before he left. We had the back of the truck nearly full with canes when we finally started digging of the little shoots or buds or whatever the heck you call baby bamboo. We had about a dozen three-gallon sized pots filled when Emma looks up and for the first time I saw her lose her cool.

"Uh … uh … uh …," she stuttered out, finally pointing behind most of us when she couldn't get anything out.

The first thing that entered my head was zombie so I jerked around and reached for my machete and … well, geez, I even feel strange typing this. Stranger than writing about zombies.

We all stopped in our tracks and got real quiet, real fast. Elephants will do that to you. Yeah, elephants … as in plural … as in there was a freaking herd of eight elephants eating the bamboo out of the back of the pickup truck.

I went to say something – I don't know what – and Saen covered my mouth and then shook her head. I found out later that coming to the attention of an elephant all of a sudden can be a bad thing. What I would like to know is how something that big moves that quietly. They were suddenly just there, like they appeared out of thin air. Only they didn't appear out of thin air, they came through the overgrowth on the other side of the road from where we had parked. And before that their home was either Busch Gardens or Lowry Park Zoo. I supposed they might have come from down south where the Ringling Bros. Circus and other carnival acts over wintered but I wouldn't think they would have travelled so far for a bit of grass and bamboo

I know from listing to Sarah and Samuel talk about all the zoo escapees in the area that elephant herds are made up primarily of matriarchal groups. Any young male elephant … called a "bull" … is expected to leave the herd by about ten years of age; whether he wants to or not. See this is the problem we ran into here, but I wasn't really trying to analyze the situation until it was all over with.

The elephants – there were some younger elephants for no young babies – were placidly eating so we started edging back to a location of safety until they moved on. We were moving slowly and quietly, giving them plenty of room to just be their elephanty selves. Then from across the road came another elephant. This elephant really set the elephants in the herd off, especially the big female. That's when things got dicey.

It all happened so fast that I'm not sure exactly what the catalyst was that made the herd elephants go from mildly annoyed to highly ticked off. All I know for sure is that it suddenly felt like one of the herd elephants got a bead on our group and became affronted by our existence.

If you've never had the pleasure of running from an elephant I have to tell you that the experience is priceless … as in I would have paid any price to have avoided it. We scattered like bugs to avoid being squashed the one of the bigger females that came running straight at us. The poor vanagon never stood a chance. Both sides were caved in and all of the windows were smashed in.

I grabbed Charlene and ran into one of the warehouses. Unfortunately doors are merely minor irritations to a charging elephant and the warehouses were just big aluminum structures. They were built to withstand a hurricane but not a charging four ton train car sized animal. The elephants began to punch into the warehouses like speeding bull dozers. We wove, we dodged, we ran in and we ran out. Dragging Charlene behind me I sped around one side of a warehouse and ran into Cooper and Autumn running around for the other side. All four of us took off into the tall grass behind the warehouse area.

I had my machete out cutting through the grass as fast as I could as we zigzagged trying to stay out of all of the elephants' ways. Cooper grabbed me to stop me. The elephant had given up chasing us and returned to hunt down the rest of our party or to bang into some more stuff.

We stood real quiet trying to get our bearings and to catch our breath. Looking down I noticed we were ankle deep in silt and muck. Thank goodness for good boots and even better shoelaces. We laid the grass over to help us to stay on the mud, rather than in it, as much as possible. I felt it suck at my shoes but it wasn't able to pull them off.

Then opposite the direction of the elephants there came noise … slosh, slap, splat, slap, splat, slosh … in an uneven and unnatural pattern. Up to that point I had never really heard zombies moving through swamps but we all knew what we were hearing without having to guess.

It was back towards the warehouse. I think as scared as I was of the elephants I was even more scared of trying to deal with zombies in grass that was taller than I was; basically operating blind. Cooper pointed north of our position so we headed that way. Dawson and Emma nearly got a bullet from Cooper … for a second we were sure that we running back into the zombies. We heard Emma call on Dawson to slow down just in time. Unfortunately there were some lively zombies that heard her as well.

All the heat and running had me as dizzy as a doodle bug. I'm in better shape than I've been in many years but endurance running in this heat we have now would suck it right out of a marathon runner. Sweat was running into my eyes and fogging up my glasses. I took them off and was wiping my face with my sleeve when Charlene's muted giggles turned into a scream.

I'm all but blind as a bat without my glasses on but I could still smell. Autumn's shirt was ripped but she was never bitten praise God. But Dawson practically picked Charlene and I up off of our feet when we were moving fast enough. I was being joggled so much I couldn't get my glasses on one-handed.

I had to see. I let my machete hang by the wrist strap and put my glasses on. Good thing I did too as we hit the concrete at that moment and I stumbled and went down on my hands and knees. I heard Charlene scream, "Momma!" I had just the presence of mind to turn over, slicing with my machete at the same time. An annoyingly lively zombie caught somewhere between the stages of runner and shambler was practically on top of me. In addition to the mud and muck I was now covered with liquefied zombie entrails where I cut the thing practically in half.

I stood, gagging up bile, but was then slammed down again by Dawson while Cooper started shooting over my head.

Emma helped me up after we'd made it behind Cooper's line of fire. "Excuse him, his mom never taught him to watch his strength," and then she winked at me. Dawson grinned and blushed a little. I see now why those two work so well together.

A piercing whistle drew our attention to a tall Live Oak tree with low hanging branches. Saen, Ben, and Mr. Choi were perched midway up. That became our destination. We ran to the tree and started climbing and that was when I realized that the wrist strap on my machete must have broken. I looked back and was just able to catch a glimpse of the long blade laying at the edge of the concrete.

I had made it down two branches when I was unceremoniously grabbed by four different people, one of whom was Saen. "You crazy woman? Scott kill us all you get down. We get you another pig sticker. You stay put!" I don't care if she is only five foot nothing and eighty pounds soaking wet, you do not want to make Saen angry.

I was able to keep an eye on my machete for about five minutes and then things got excessively interesting again. About two dozen zombies had exited the tall grass, no doubt drawn by all the noise. None of us has ever seen a zombie attack anything but humans, barring the Ragers that attacked anything and everything in their way. This time was no exception. Unfortunately for the zombies the elephants didn't have the same issues.

The elephants tore the zombies apart and then squashed them into toe jam. We were all heaving and gagging while this played out. I'd never felt sorry for the zombies before but the wanton destruction I witnessed came real close to causing me to feel that way this time.

It took a while longer but the elephants finally calmed down and headed back the general direction they had come. We gave it a few more minutes and then climbed down to survey the damage they had left in their wake and to call Sanctuary for a tow.

The vanagon is toast. Conrad and McElroy think they can salvage some parts but the body and axle are completely useless except as scrap. They had to pull it up on the flat bed tow truck to get it home. That's not the only thing that is toast.

It was lying right where it had fallen. The grip was all misshapen but would have been repairable in some way; but, the blade had snapped right at the hilt. It had saved my life so many times I'd lost track. My family had even decorated it for me and made me a fancy sheath to hold it. It was more like an extension of my own body than a simple piece of metal that pre-NRS could have been purchased at even the cheapest flea market.

Scott, Dix, Bob, and McElroy showed up faster than I thought they would but all I could do was sit there and feel like I'd lost a good friend. Even I knew that was silly but I was still mourning my machete. Saen or Charlene must have said something because when Scott walked over to where I was cutting more bamboo with a hatchet he didn't holler or anything like I expected. He just took the two pieces and walked over to Bob.

But my dad made knives as a hobby. Bob looked at it and then at Scott and just shook his head. Even I know that something that broke can't be put back together except for show. I'll think about getting a replacement for it tomorrow but for now the pieces are sitting out in the carport. It's been like a wake, practically everyone in Sanctuary and a few from Aldea have actually come by to see for themselves that Sissy's machete is actually as broke as Scott used to threaten to make it.

We made it back in time for dinner, but just. I was just wore out and discouraged. Finding that bloodsucker on my arm didn't improve my mood at all. Rose got it off and then took it in a specimen jar for Waleski to look at.

Scott tried to cheer me up by playing as he was "checking for ticks" and though I tried to play along my heart wasn't in it. I really was covered in them but thankfully none had sunk their heads in. What we are going to do with the Deet repellent runs out I don't know.

Silly to be so upset by something like a broken machete but I was … and am. I know I can't pout about it, certainly worse things have happened to me, but no one is begrudging me a little time to grieve which I'm grateful for. It feels like someone has stolen my good luck charm.

It hasn't helped that Bubby was sick again after dinner. The girls said he was nearly back to his old self most of the day though he got a little pale after lunch until Sarah insisted he, Johnnie, and Al take a short nap but that perked him right back up. Then right in the middle of dinner he lays his head on the table and Scott and I barely got him out of the dining hall before he was puking.

I don't know what kind of bug he has gotten but he is staying in bed tomorrow if I have to staple him down. His color was way off when we put him to bed and I'm watching the other kids to see if and when they are going to come down with whatever it is. I had the other boys bed down in our bedroom and I am going to sleep on Johnnie's bed in case Bubby gets sick in the night. James and David are splitting my guard shift so I can keep an eye on him.


	236. Day 278

_**Day 278 (Saturday) – May 4**_

Bubby seems like he is doing a little better today. Rose and Melody have kept an eye on him and the rest of the kids spent time with him off and on to keep him from getting bored between his naps. I kept him on beef and green broths today to build him up and I'm thankful to say his color is better. He still isn't one hundred percent but I think he is kicking whatever this bug is that he has. I always hate it when the kids get sick. I should be used to it by now but it really does give me this helpless feeling inside.

As for myself and Charlene we spent the early morning hours berry picking. Scott and I had talked about it. Rose and Melody were both capable of watching Bubby and Scott would be in the immediate area starting the clearing process for the curtain wall. We needed to know what had happened to the east of us as far as the fire and Hive damage and I really wanted to see if the U-Pick farms out that way were still going or had they been destroyed or claimed.

Betty, Rilla, Charlene and I would be in the trip from Sanctuary. Austin's Sarah, Anne, Saen, and Fy were coming from Aldea. Shorty and two of her girls were coming from OSAG. Our guards were Angus, Dix, Jim from Sanctuary; and Steve and Dave from OSAG. Aldea is short-handed with Glenn and his crew gone.

Dante' would have come but Dix wanted him to stay in Sanctuary. He's awful cut up. Tina told him that there was no chance that she would ever take him back, that she was satisfied just sharing Bo with him. I know these things happen but I personally don't think that Tina was practicing the art of forgiveness very much. Yes, Dante' made a horrible mistake and it appears one that he's going to beat himself up over possibly for a long, long while but I think Tina has forgotten that while she was the primary victim of her abuser, Dante' suffered as well. What I don't understand is that Dante' isn't fighting her. They both just appear to have given up. Too bad we can't institute mandatory counseling but that's not the way we work around here, not to mention we don't really have the professional help they both would require. A talk show, generalized counseling session via the radio isn't enough in this instance.

Because of the number of people that we had going we took two trucks with extended cabs from Sanctuary, an SUV from Aldea, and Zassat's Escalade from OSAG. The SUV and Escalade were former gangbanger transportation and were heavily armored. The trucks were reliable and 4WD with independent suspension in case we had to travel over or through debris … which we did.

No one was too happy but I drove the lead truck with Angus at shot gun. He only grimaced a few times and once said to take the lead out of my foot but otherwise he didn't fuss too much. The reason why I was the lead vehicle is because I knew exactly where I wanted to go. Destination: Plant City. Most people around the country only know Plant City as the Strawberry Capital of the World and for the Strawberry Festival that is held every year in early March. But Plant City also has a pretty good smattering of other types of U-Pick farms and the ones that I was after grew blueberries and blackberries.

The first field I headed for was completely destroyed by fire. So was the second field. I was beginning to sweat it. Fire damage was very hit or miss out this way though we'd come through some pretty fierce damage to get where we were going. If I hadn't been so familiar with the route we'd been in trouble as many of the landmarks and street signs had been obliterated. I began to pray we hadn't gone all that way for nothing.

I had to take the long way around but I finally made it out to W.O. Griffin Road and we hit pay dirt. There were no trails back to the fields so I was discouraged at first but I'm glad I didn't give up. Everything had gone wild. I didn't open the door but climbed out the driver's side window until I could sit on the edge of it and listen. Angus had his window down and was listening. All that could be heard was the ticking of the engines as they cooled from the long drive.

I looked over the overgrown fields and not a blade or branch was moving. Then I spotted squirrels and song birds out and about doing their daily search for food. Then I spotted a couple of small rabbits eating what was left of the flower beds up against the produce stand that used to serve as the field office.

I looked at Angus and he gave a silent thumbs up; then I swiveled my neck and saw Dix gave me the same sign. Rather than risking a door opening and closing I climbed out and had Charlene hand me one of the small plastic buckets she had down at her feet. The grass was tall and I missed my machete more than ever. I walked so that I laid the grass over with each step to clear a path. I stopped when I saw Dave angling to meet up with me as I walked towards the field.

Dave, in case I've never mentioned it, is really into body art. I nodded and then backed up when he insisted on taking point. I had no idea whether he even knew what a blackberry or blueberry bush looked like but he is one of those protective types so I knew it wasn't any good arguing. The grass thinned out a little to my left and I tapped Dave's shoulder and pointed that direction.

When we got to the head of the row I had spotted I felt some of my tension leave me. We weren't going to be hurting for blueberries if even a quarter of the bushes were as loaded as the one right in front of me was. I pulled one off and checked it for varmints before popping it into my mouth. My word, I nearly had drool running down my chin. That had to be one of the best blueberries I've ever had. Fresh from the bush is definitely best.

Dave signaled to Steve, Dix, and Angus … I was too short and had all but disappeared into the grass. We all kept very quiet. Attention was not something we craved. We all agreed quietly that no human had been back here recently and there were no obvious trails left by zombies. It made me wonder however where all the locals had gone. If anyone would have been staking out ownership rights of the U-Pick fields it would have been someone that knew where they were.

Unlike my puny bushes back home these already had a lot of ripe berries on them. Those first bushes we picked from must have been made up primarily of an early ripening variety. I noticed some of the rows closer to the road didn't have nearly as many ripe ones which would give us time to make another trip if we wanted to and not have to worry about stripping the whole field in one shot.

There were sixteen of us but it was primarily the women that picked leaving the men to act as security although they obliged us by fetching and carrying containers so we didn't have to stop what we were doing every time we filled one up. In just over an hour we had completely stripped all of the ripe berries from four long commercial rows. I left the other women working on a fifth row and then asked Angus if he would go with me up to the little house. I remembered there used to be a board that said where each of the fields were and I wanted to see if it was still there.

That also gave me a chance to see how his knee was. He admitted it was bothering him some. "Gonna be some rain through here this afternoon. You plan on staying that long?" he asked.

"Your knee talking to you?" After he nodded I answered, "I honestly want to be out of here by lunch if we can. We need to get this fruit home so it doesn't spoil in the heat. Not to mention we'll probably be running out of water by then. Its hotter than I expected with the fields being so overgrown and suffocating all the air out of things."

The field sign was faded but still legible but barely. The home garden was toast, what little bit coming in wild from last season's rotted fields had been savaged by the local wildlife. A snake slithering under my field nearly had me shrieking but Angus covered my mouth just in time. He was real still then pointed. People had been nailed to the side of the big wood shed on the other side of the house. Each of the remains had taken an obvious headshot; part or most of the skull of each body was missing. Dried gore painted the barn's side and not even the elements had bleached it away.

We edged closer and as we passed the corner of the house Angus stopped. It was a moment before he let me come around and see what he had found. Sitting against a concrete bench was a long dead corpse of an obvious suicide; the shotgun was still between its outstretched legs though the fact that it was missing most of the top of the skull gave us a pretty good idea how things had occurred.

It was a depressing sight but not an unfamiliar one so we continued on with little fanfare. I said a prayer hoping they had found peace as we entered the shed. It had been ransacked. Everything useful was already gone … long gone considering the layer of dust and mildew that lay on walls and work tops. There were a few baskets hanging on the back of the building and I was tempted to take them until I saw the kind of shape they were in, useless for any real work.

I was aiming for the field on the other side of the shed. Oak saplings and saw briers were encroaching on this field very heavily but the blackberry and boysenberry canes were as heavily loaded as the front blueberry fields were. Angus and I made our way back and after making sure the blueberries were in the shade everyone but a guard for the vehicles trooped back to the blackberry fields. It was getting so hot however that the most we were able to pick was for an hour but that was enough. We had twenty gallons of domesticated blackberries with absolutely no problems.

We were packing it up when Steve and Dave came over and asked me to look at a couple of trees and tell them they weren't seeing things. I had no idea what was going on but on the side of the house I hadn't gone by was a small dwarf orchard. I hadn't seen these two years ago when I was here and they were loaded quite heavily for dwarf fruit trees. There were four peach, four nectarine, and four plum trees. There was also a large mango tree about fifty feet beyond the orchard. On the other side of the mango we found several bee hives but there was no time to try and collect any honey but the bees explained why everything was doing so well despite not being attended to by humans.

We salvaged the house and found some containers and bags to gather that fruit in and then we really had to book. We were down to barely a quarter of a canteen of water per person and it was beginning to get hotter than blue blazes with thunder heads former off further east. The wind hadn't freshened yet so the rain was some ways off but we all knew we needed to get back as quickly as possible.

It was nearly two o'clock when we pulled into Sanctuary after having unloaded things at OSAG and Aldea. We brought most of the stuff back with us for preserving but that would have to wait until tomorrow. It took us a couple of hours just to get things sorted out so that they could go into the Cooler.

Mr. Morris, Kevin, Dix, Angus and probably a couple of others are going back out to the U-Pick farm tomorrow, weather permitting. They are going to try and grab those bee hives and see about maybe bringing back some more fruit.

I could have showered and gone to bed right then but I had to go out to our gardens and pick everything that had ripened during the night. After checking on Bubby I grabbed my basic and brought in some celeriac and some beans but that was about it. Betty however asked if I could come help her in the native grove. There was quite a bit of stuff coming in out there: custard apples, zapotes, karandas, white sapotes, star apples, kei-apples, cherries of the rio grande, grumichamas, pitombas, acerolas, sopadillas, tamarind pods, calamondins, and more key limes. Something tells me my "rest day" tomorrow is going to be spent in the kitchen canning and processing things for the Drying Oven.

Angus' weather prognosticating knee was correct. The rain hit at 5:15 and it was a hard and fast one; what my daddy used to call a gulley washer. But as is typical of those types of rain it didn't last long. By 5:45 it has passed through leaving a mess behind. But at least it was dry enough in the Dining Hall. Bubby was asleep half way through dinner and I carried him back to the house so that Scott could stay and listen to everyone's reports.

Bubby used to be a chunky little pumpkin when we first got him but he'd trimmed up along with the rest of the kids from all of the outdoor play and chores but as I undressed him for bed I noticed he hadn't just trimmed down he had thinned out quite a bit. Some of it is that he'd put on several inches of height but I didn't like the implications that he'd been sick for a while and I hadn't noticed. I will be talking to Ski tomorrow if it is possible he is anemic and if he is what we can do about it.

Bubby woke up from his brief nap cranky and didn't want to go back to bed so when the other children came home after helping to clean up from dinner I read a couple chapters of _Night of the Twisters_ by Ivy Ruckman. By the time that was read everyone was very ready for their beds. Bubby had fallen asleep on his own and Scott carried him to bed and then made sure the other little boys had brushed their teeth and put away their clothes.

We were both tired but I wanted to type an entry in my journal and Scott needed to make some changes to his drawings of the curtain wall. He is starting to put his papers away so I might as well close as well. Glory knows I've got a ton of work facing me tomorrow.


	237. Day 279

_**Author's Note:** I try and not interrupt anyone's reading too much my inserting these author's notes but I do want to say a hug thank you to everyone that is reading and those that are making comments as well. I've had a request to put a character list together for the story. I'm working on it and I'm going to try and include it in between the ending of "Year 1" and the beginning of "Year 2". I have about half of Year 2 completely editing already so no worries there. The formatting will be slightly different but it will make sense once you get there. (wink, wink). I've had a couple of people ask me about the information in the story. It comes from a combination of actual experience and in depth research. I know the geographical areas in the story quite well in real life; the lay out and landmarks, the local resources, the seasons, etc. That is one of the reasons why the story feels so "real" to some of you most likely. And many of the characters in the story are based on real people ... from physical characteristics, to personalities, to talents ... even the quirks that some of them have._

 _Well I will let you get back to the story. Just thought I would try and answer a few questions and let you know what is coming down the pike. Sorta anyway. LOL!_

* * *

 _ **Day 279 (Sunday) – May 5**_

My rear bumper is dragging the ground. I'm truly glad I have this typewriter now because actually having to get up the energy to hold a pen to paper to write – and have it come out legible – is beyond me tonight.

I hadn't planned on it but I went back with the group that hit up the U-Pick farm yesterday. Apparently Dix simply wasn't confident he could follow the path I took yesterday. We lit out right before first light and were only at the U-Pick farm long enough for Mr. Morris to organize kidnapping those bee hives. We had to head out so early because the hives needed to be taken up before the dew was off everything or the bees would leave the hive and we'd lose a lot of workers.

While the guys played with the bees the females that went divided up and attacked the blueberries, blackberries, and fruit trees. This time some folks from Mr. Choi's group came as well as some girls that Dora had sent with us. We stripped several more rows but there is more than enough ripening fruit left to make another trip later in the week worth the effort.

On the way back I made one unplanned stop and that was at the Parke Family Hydro farm in Dover. I nearly couldn't get there because of fire damage. About half the farm was gone; all those beautiful greenhouses and hydroponic gardens were pretty much melted and the whole set up was a waste. However it did look like some of the farm had been salvaged at some point, but not recently. Oh well, we can't always be first but I'm going to talk over with David what his plans are for the fish ponds he is trying to develop. If we can get a good aquaculture set up going that would extend our harvest of some things even further.

The other stop in Dover was at Lee Farms. Not a sign of anyone there, lots of overgrowth, but it looked like most of the peaches and nectarine trees had made it. And the farm hadn't been salvaged at all so there were still lots of crates in the big field barn. As heavy as the trees were loaded it wasn't a waste of an hour but Mr. Morris was getting cranky and wanting to get the bees home. He'd plugged their escape holes and even I could tell they weren't happy about it. Between the two U-Pick locations we'll definitely be going on another gathering run out that way this coming week.

Once we were back home my real work day began. We had blueberries, blackberries, peaches, nectarines, and mangoes that needed preserving. My pineapple plants were also putting off quite a few fruits. This is a good thing because some of our commercially canned pineapple is beginning to get that metallic back taste to it that says it's been in the can just about as long as it is good for.

Mostly what I … we women (and a couple of the men came to "play" with us as well just because their curiosity got the better of them) … were doing is canning and preserving the fruit that we had brought in the last two days. We had every burner going on both the two wood-burning stoves and the two hydrogen stoves. We even had a couple of propane burners going on stands out in the yard.

For the blueberries and boysenberries we made relish, canned whole berries, syrup, conserve, blueberry-pineapple conserve, pie filling, juice, dried berries, leather, liqueur, jam, blueberry-lime jam, blueberry-lemon jam, blueberry mincemeat, chutney, marmalade, blueberry lemonade, catsup, and blueberry-cherry jam. The blackberries we made juice, vinegar, dried, syrup, canned, pickled, nectar, shrub, wine, brandy, cordial, jam, leather, relish, and pie filling. The peaches made into pickles, conserve, canned slices and halves, preserves, brandied, jam, butter, spiced butter, preserves, pie filling, leather, chutney, dried, dried/glace', liqueur, cordial, peach-cantaloupe jam, wine, watermelon-peach wine, and vinegar. The nectarines made just about the same things as the peaches since they were such similar fruit in nature. We turned the plums into liqueur, jelly, jam, preserves, conserve, wine, leather, and juice. And the mangoes were made into chutney, leather, candied, juice, ketchup, relish, and wine.

We literally went through a barrel of white sugar to pull all of this off. With the fruit that is coming in this week we are going to switch to honey and primarily just drying it. Got a nice surprise today with all of this. It seems that young Bobby is very proficient with canning and preserving. She had been very active in 4H growing up and her father was even an Extension Agent. Her mother had some kind of degree where she organized commercial kitchens. It was very nice to have an extra pair of hands in the kitchen even if was for only a few hours between when the baby needed her. Now that she has settled down and isn't so freaked out she is a lot easier for me to be around. She and Melody have hit it off really well and Rose is slowly warming up to her.

Got a radio message from Glenn and company today. They are going to try and make it back by tomorrow late afternoon but if not then by lunch on Tuesday. We've also heard that the peddlers are in the area. I hope that means that I'll find out what Iggy was sending back my way. Hopefully we'll find out how he and Baron are really doing and possibly have a better idea of when they will come back in. I worry about them getting enough to eat and clean drinking water. I don't know how Iggy is supposed to work, hunt for food, and keep his eye on Baron if Baron continues to be a problem. I guess that is one thing I'm just going to be forced to have faith over.

We experimented with the celeriac. I've grown it in the past in very limited amounts with hit or miss results at the dinner table. This time Betty suggested something I hadn't tried. We shredded equal parts raw potatoes with raw shredded celeriac, added some onion and seasonings and then fried them up into patties. Not too shabby, not too shabby at all. And Bubby even ate two of them.

His color is better and he is acting much more like himself than he has been. I'm a little bewildered as to why Ski won't give him iron supplements but he said that to bump up his iron through his diet and not through pills. Kids can OD very easily on iron supplements and he has no way to check his blood for any deficiencies. That means that I'll be feeding Bubby green broth and I'm also going to make a juice up from the acerolas that are very high in Vitamin C. I wish I had some rose hips; I'd make rose hip soup as well. We need to build his system back up.

And Angus now has a full blown cold. He refused to drink any more honey-lemon tea but he was happy to eat a slice of the sour cream blueberry pies we made for dessert tonight. He's not feverish just very stuffy and constantly having to clear his throat. I told the kids to be quiet and if they wanted to do something for him to make sure that Mischief's "puppies" didn't get his boots while he was resting. Those little beasts need to be trained for something other than trouble right quick.

In the morning I will make blueberry gingerbread for breakfast to go with the fruit bowl and other muffins we plan on making. Ah, and here is more rain so I need to pack it up and get back inside. The wind has been blowing the last thirty minutes and I expect the rain is going to blow into the lanai before too much longer. Unfortunately that means we are going to have to sleep with the windows down. Thank goodness for ceiling fans that work off the battery backup system Scott rigged.

(later)

Had to get back up. Scott is snoring so bad I can't sleep and after trying to roll him over for the fifth time I just gave up. It is so hot in the house with the windows closed but it is still raining. I've opened the French door trying to get a bit of breeze but it isn't helping much.

David is up moving around getting ready for guard duty. I startled him but it didn't take him long to hear Scott's dulcet sounds and understand. I think Scott is trying to get the cold that Angus has full blast. Lovely, I can imagine it running through the whole house now. Maybe this is what Bubby has and he just got a bad case of it, though he didn't have the sinus or throat involvement that I can recall.

The rain is noisy on the aluminum roof of the lanai, but worse on the skylight in the kitchen. It doesn't feel like there is any hail in the rain … not cool enough … but those are some hard rain drops. I'm glad I don't have guard duty tonight. The guys will probably stay in the guard shacks most of their shifts unless the rain lets up.

I'm not too worried about zombies tonight, thunderstorms always fritz them out for a while. Anyone not working on assigned tasks will probably run patrols to see if they can clear out the zombies before their electrical system rights itself … if you can call anything about zombies right.

Speaking of … I just can't get over how empty the east county area was. No survivors. No zombies that we saw. We saw small wildlife but nothing big. It was eerie in a way that I haven't felt in some time. We women talked about it for a while as we were cooking. The fire that was started by the NRSC probably caused a lot of deaths … even if people weren't actually burned up I'm sure more than a few of them died from smoke inhalation. We still see recent zombies that don't appear to have any physical injuries that can't be explained by the beginnings of slowed decomposition. We figured these were people that had died quietly, killed by a silent murderer like oxygen starvation.

But there are still a lot of people in and around Tampa … well, relatively speaking there are a lot of people. You would have thought the urban centers would have been much more cleared out than the rural districts. It's just weird.

Of course, for salvaging purposes the cities and suburbs are the place to be. But, come to think of it I didn't even see any cows or horses or goats. I need to say something to Dix and see if he noticed that. I saw Angus and Dix talking this morning and the looks on their faces was kind of puzzled or close to consternation like there was a puzzle that wasn't going together the way they expected. I might be stretching my curiosity a bit but I wonder if they were talking about their impressions of that area.

And before I forget I have to write this down. I don't know if it is funny or sad or just what exactly but it caught my attention. Part of me wanted to laugh and part of me was really sad at the same time.

It's no secret from anyone that Dante' and Tina have split and that it was Tina's decision but Dante' isn't fighting it. You can tell Dante' is … careworn. Yeah, that's it, he's careworn like he's got a heavy burden that he knows he'll never put down. He'll be fine for Bo when he is around but when his son is back at Aldea it's like a little more of the life just leaks away from Dante'.

Well, Bobby was confused about why Tina would dump Dante' that way and so to avoid awkward questions we explained the whole sad tale to her. She got real quiet and then shook her head and snorted in an inpatient way and said, "Gee, does she think she is the only one that has had to deal with that kind of crap? You know, this baby wasn't exactly my idea but he's here and now I have this little person that needs me to take care of him. I'd give a lot to have a guy to share it all with, even if the guy occasionally acted like a jerk. So long as he was really sorry after and tried to make up for it I think I could live with that so long as there wasn't any hitting or he didn't sleep around."

Well, I had had no idea though apparently Melody and Rose did which probably meant that Ski did and with him Rilla. I looked around and most of us didn't know what to say. "Yeah, I know I'm a little blunt but it's stupid. It sucked and I cried for a while but my dad, you know, he told me that it didn't change the fact that I was his kid and that he loved me and that basically I could chose whether I was going to stay a victim or deal with it and get on with my life. The baby complicated things and I still sometimes can't believe this little person like came out of me and stuff but … well, the guy was a jackass and well, I don't want to live in his shadow for the rest of my life. 'Cause he was a total fu … uh … bad dude." She changed the last when she caught Patricia looking at her.

I don't know what I expected but a smile of approval from Patricia wasn't one of them. But when I saw her grab her little baby girl and hug her close I guess maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised after all.

But none of that is what I had to laugh about even though it was a little sad. Dante' had come to the dining hall to get something to drink before he went back to working on his inventory sheets which is what he usually did on his day off. Bobby had gone outside to change the baby. He's a wriggly one that is a challenge to diaper. I think out of habit more than anything Dante' stopped to give her a hand. It was humorous to watch a man give a young woman tips on diapering. He was telling her all about how Bo used to be the same way and a few things that he used to do to get it done and over with as quickly as possible to avoid the pinpoint accuracy issues that some baby boys seem to enjoy.

They weren't that far away from the rest of us so we all could see what was going on. Reba looked at me and rolled her eyes. "Betcha a block of cheese she tests the water."

I only had a second to decipher what she meant when it became obvious. Bobby must have been coming on pretty strong but it still took a second for it to penetrate Dante's awareness. You could see it in his face. He move pretty quick to put the table between him and Bobby and being as polite as he could he still took off awful fast.

Bobby had a pretty satisfied look on her face when she walked back in. When she looked around at us she asked, "What? Did you think I was kidding? I've seen him with his kid and he knows about babies. And the fact that he didn't jump after what I was offering is good too. At least he's got something to think about now besides sitting around moping."

That girl is just loaded with audacity. There is a small part of me that wanted to say "you go girl" but the problem is I know Tina and I know what Tina and Dante' used to have and wonder whether they could get it back. That's the part that wasn't funny. I know life moves on, and sometimes more quickly that you could imagine, but when you have something this awful happen, how are you supposed to just pick up the pieces and move on?

As for me, I'm going to try to move back into my bed. I'm tired and it sounds like Scott has stopped snoring finally.


	238. Day 280

_**Day 280 (Monday) – May 6 – Wash Day**_

I love the new Sanctuary Laundromat. If we start right after breakfast before everyone else gets started on their laundry I can have all of our loads washed and hung out by lunch time. That is halving the amount of time it used to take and there is no telling how much actual manual labor this is saving. Do need to watch the belts a little more closely however; something had chewed on one of them. We have spares but not for long if we have to replace a belt every week like that.

Scott is disgusted but he worked around us to put up a pole barn over the area today and then attached heavy chain link fencing to the poles to try and keep the varmints out. He was irritated that this was taking him away from the curtain wall project. I hung "poisoned peppers" at the base of each pole for the rats and mice to nibble on and hopefully die from. We may also try and civilize some of the kittens from Lucky's latest litter and see if we can have them in the common areas without the dogs going too crazy.

Most of the dogs have learned to leave Lucky and her two sadistic sons alone but the puppies are still insatiably curious. Strangely, Pup is the only dog that the cats don't absolutely hate with a passion. She can walk by them and they don't even react. I thought she was going to be toast the time she got into the barn and went over to sniff Lucky and the kittens; the little fuzzballs didn't even have their eyes open yet. That crazy dog went so far as to lick the top of Lucky's head and all the cat did was sneeze. Of course now Pup is too busy playing "mommy" to Wiggles.

The puppy is looking lots better and Austin has said it doesn't have worms or even fleas which would have been close to a death sentence at her age. I've had to get onto Sarah and Samuel more than once about getting too close with their "observing." But, after Pup snapped at Sarah for sticking her hand in the box I think they finally got the message. Pup never snaps … at anybody … but to have her snap at Sarah was especially surprising. That tells me that more than likely I hadn't caught them as often as they had actually been near the puppy and messing with her. I threatened both kids with seeing that they lost a week or two of taking care of the animals if they couldn't behave. I told them if they couldn't follow the rules with this one thing then maybe they could follow the rules with the other animals. They got the message after that for which I am glad; I would have hated to try and explain to Mr. Morris why he was losing his two main helpers.

Talked to David today about his future plans for the fish ponds. He told me that he was going to get some help with digging the canals deeper sooner than he expected. There are a couple of places that Scott wants to drain so they can incorporate them into the dry moat; in order to do that they need a place to put the water first. They'll start on the opposite end of the canals from where he is currently working and using a small dredging bucket they'll work over towards the middle of the canal length. They'll drain the few wet places that Scott wants done. Then they'll put that water into the newly deepened canals. The extensive dry moat system may eventually turn into a dry and wet moat system, either from seasonal rains or because the water table may be breached in a couple of places where it runs really close to the surface.

The deeper canals inside Sanctuary will also act as drainage in the event of a heavy rain storm(s) so that Sanctuary doesn't turn into a big bathtub. I admitted that I was a bit worried about that when I found out how deep they would be sinking the footers and foundation for the curtain wall but he said Scott took that into account. As soon as the curtain wall is complete they will be digging some drainage ditches that will direct the worst water pile up areas either into our small wetland area or into the canals. Plus, the large water catchment system on the curtain wall will also help deal with any water pile up caused by the wall itself.

David was fooling around after dinner – Rose had late shift at the Clinic (OK, that didn't come out exactly right, eeeww mother brain overload effect) – and took some PVC that came out of the ground where they are clearing the foundation and digging the dry moat and cut it into 18-inch lengths. It is that heavy-duty stuff that is used for main sewer and water lines. He's going to find a way to "cap" off one end so that we can do those "upside down grow pots" like you used to see on TV. I've used 2-liter soda bottles to do this a couple of years ago but all of our soda bottles are used for water storage these days.

The next thing will be to set up a bunch of poles that will serve two purposes. First we need to run strong wire from pole to pole to create a grid pattern. Then we will lay a sunshade type of netting on top of the poles and grid of wires. The wires will be what we hang the "upside down pots" from and the netting is to keep the roots from getting scorched. We'll use nitrogen rich water from the fish ponds to water the plant roots and voila! … the hydroponics component of the aquaculture plan. In one of the larger canals we are also going to see if we can eventually start wild rice or cattails … both will be another food source for us. I'm not sure that Sanctuary will ever be totally self-sufficient but with what we have now and what we are creating for the near future we will certainly have the ability to withstand a longterm siege … assuming we don't get bombed into submission (or out of existence) from the sky. But even with that I suspect that between Dix, Glenn, and a couple of the others we could come up with some mitigating tools that would make folks think twice before taking a bite out of us that way.

And from what I am already seeing we won't run out of firewood for a long while. In a way it hurts to see all of the trees coming down that we had tried so diligently to save but our reality trumps any tree-hugging tendency I have. Scott and Dix both promised to save what trees they could … they don't want issues with erosion or to run all of our small game out of the area after all … but they aren't going to bleed green if a tree is in the way either.

Bob has already had to fix two teeth on one of the big root rakes that they have attached to the front loaders. They are running it right at the edge of the first Big Fire boundary and there is a lot of debris underground that isn't apparent now that things have gotten overgrown again.

Some of the debris is simply unsalvageable. They are loading all of that up in a dump truck and they are dumping it in piles along a lot of the roads that are still in the area. This will prevent any vehicle from being able to get up to speed on a straightaway and prevent kamikaze drivers or high-speed drive-by type shootings. We hear that they are picking up on the other side of town. We don't know if it is the blackmarketeers driving this or due to the vacuum of power left over from the demise of the ZKK or perhaps even a combination of the two. Dix said one possibility is that the blackmarketeers are creating a market for what they offer by turning certain items from a luxury to a necessity. I can see the logic in that even if I personally find it demented. It's what the old drug gangs did when they moved into an area; get the kids hooked by giving it away free and then start charging an arm and a leg for the drugs that they had become addicted to.

During dinner when this was being discussed Nana called the whole thing capitalism at its worst. I could see Scott starting to get hot under the collar so I forestalled a blow up by telling her that the blackmarketeers actions, assuming they were behind this, had no more to do with capitalism than sex had to do with rape. It's about power and subjugation … sex/money are only by products, not the primary goal. Amazingly I think she might have actually heard what I said as she dropped the matter and didn't make any more derogatory comments in that direction.

We've had the Sanctuary School running for nearly a month now and I have to admit that though it is different than what I would personally have done it is proving to be successful. Angus, with a little help from the tweens and teens, was able to clear out the house we had picked for the education building. Our "library" is conveniently right next to it. He's gone in there and painted all of the walls with primer. The short wall in each room is going to get a coat of that "black board" paint that Scott salvaged from several local paint suppliers. He was going to have the kids paint/decorate the rooms themselves but the blackboard space will let them have the chance to decorate, erase, and redecorate to their the hearts' content so long as we have chalk. I can make chalk as long as we have Plaster of Paris so that shouldn't be a problem for a while.

Next he plans on getting creative. The younger kids' rooms are going to look like an indoor treehouse if I'm understanding him correctly. The upstairs rooms may lean more towards a Viking stronghold or medieval castle. The way I understand it most of the furnishings will be homemade. His plans are ambitious but the kids are so excited about it that I think it will be a huge hit no matter what the end result is. This also gives Angus and his tremendous energies something to focus on while his knee continues to heal. It is taking much longer than I thought it would. I know James is worried though he doesn't let on about that stuff much. I think, as a guy, he doesn't particularly like the idea of something breaking and not being able to fix it to his liking. That's youth speaking too. There are mornings when my early 40s feel like my late 60s. Particularly on days like today when I've been spending a lot of time bending up and down.

My blackberry hedge is giving off its own berries now. We'll preserve everything that we are getting from out in Plant City and use the stuff in the hedge for fresh berries and juice. My little blueberry bushes that I used to be so proud of look puny after seeing those big bushes full of berries out at the U-Pick farm. There were some smaller bushes that I think I might be able to dig and transplant but most of their nursery stock that was in pots has died.

With all the guys working on the curtain wall project I've got less help. James used to give me what help he could even if it was only lifting and carrying stuff that I left at the end of each row. All the females help out and I'm happy to hear that Saen wants to organize a regular group from Aldea to come over and help in the gardens. I know it is kind of awful to say, but I'll be glad when the garden slows down. I'm tired … and getting wore out. Having to work outside in the heat of the day so much is also getting to me. Even with a hat on I had to sit down about three times just to finish a hundred-foot row.

Saen and Fy and maybe a few others from Aldea are coming in the morning to help. I'm grateful and then some even though I know mostly it's because Glenn and the crew will be coming in some time tomorrow. They had to make a major detour when they ran into not one but two small, local bridges that wouldn't take the weight of the trucks they are driving.

That will be something special for our anniversary tomorrow. Scott and I talked it out. In years past we've always taken the day off for our anniversary. This year there just doesn't seem like it is the right thing to do. He's already lost part of a day working on the curtain wall project because he had to put up the Laundromat structure and I can't just let stuff rot in the fields; not stewarding our abundance today could well mean having starvation forced on us tomorrow. We've decided to do our normal work during the day and then have a quiet bit of alone time in the evening. David, Rose, James, and Charlene have agreed to manage all of the kids for us for a few hours and we are going to take our dinner and "picnic" in the old house in the orange grove that used to be our guard shack. Right now it is little more than a place to store our garden tools but it's reasonably clean.

I worked on my harvest inventory to give to Dante' while listening to Scott, David, and James banter about what they would do if we do have a run that goes north for a bit. David has no interest in going. I think that is because of his early unsettled life being pulled from pillar to post. Now that he has a real home he prefers to remain grounded there. Scott and James on the other hand are so eager to go off gallivanting around that I had to stop listening to them or I was going to get upset again. I know there will be a run to the north, I just don't know when, probably a lot sooner than I'm going to be comfortable with. I'm also not sure who all will be going. I have a feeling that both Scott and James will want to go and I may just have to resign myself to that though I'm far from happy with it. There are sound reasons for a run north, not the least of which is to find some way to trade for wheat and/or flour of some type. I guess I am going to have to learn to survive it the same way pioneer women did when their men would leave for who knows how long to gather what they would need to survive another season or even another whole year.

At least the inventory kept me occupied while they talked. Today I brought in the following types of produce: black turtle beans, great northern beans, jacob's cattle dried beans, navy bean, pinto beans, soldier beans, wren's egg beans, moon and starts watermelons, blue lake pole beans, genuine cornfield pole beans, Kentucky Wonder pole beans, painted lady pole beans, romano pole beans, Jackson wonder lima beans, lemon cucumbers, long green cucumbers, Mexican sour gherkins, straight 8 cucumbers, black eyed peas, and kohlrabi. I wasn't able to get all of the dried beans in but they should be fine on the vine another few days, it's more important to keep the fresh produce picked. I also harvest a couple of heads of lettuce every day. At least we can have a fresh salad and/or a fruit salad every day if we want.

The dried beans we'll likely store in buckets though we'll have to be careful because they aren't rodent proof. By the end of this week we will start adding dried blue corn to our storage as well. The blue Hopi corn started coming in last month and I've got two hundred feet of row that is now dried on the stalk. They need to be cut and then stacked so that they can complete their drying and from there I'll have to decide whether to shuck the dry kernels out or to leave them on the cob for storage.

We are about to cycle through another round of heavy tomato production that will require time to dry and can. And, a bunch of fresh sweet corn should be ready by the end of the week if the sun keeps shining the way it has. The popcorn should be coming in at the same time, not to mention the heirloom corn that we are letting dry on the stalk and the shoe peg corn.

I've had to keep Butch and Sundance out in the garden at night. We are having problems with raccoons again. I thought we had cleaned them out of Sanctuary but I guess there were a few left and they've been breeding and having kits. Same with the possums. If I could trust the puppies not to run roughshod over the rows I'd let them into the garden all day to scare up the varmints but they'll just cause as much damage as they prevent digging up stuff and dragging it hither and yon.

And with that I'm going to drag myself from hither typewriter to yon bed. I'm beat and I want to be able to have dinner with Scott tomorrow without falling asleep in my plate. I hope he likes what I made him for his anniversary present.


	239. Day 281

_**Author's Note** : Sorry for this next interruption. I have a POLL up that I would appreciate you readers participating in so that I can configure and format Year 2 of "Journal of the Zombie Years." It is at: u/7315490/# which is my bio page with all of my story links here at FF. If for some reason the link is broken, at the top right hand of the page you can put in "MotherHeninFlorida" in the search box and then select the writer option from the drop down menu and you'll be able to get to my page from there as well._

 _I'm just looking for a little guidance from all of you readers essentially letting me know whether to continue Year 2 right after Year 1 or to start Year 2 as a new story so that it will have a separate link/page. The reason being is you can see we are already well over 200 chapters. Take your pic and let me know. If you don't want to register to vote then send me your choice as a "guest" review. Also, I will consider any reasonable suggestion/question/etc. You can send that as a "review" as well. Thanks for your time!_

* * *

 _ **Day 281 (Tuesday) – May 7 – Happy Anniversary to Us**_

I'm not going to spend the whole night typing. I'm just waiting for Scott to get off of guard duty.

Wowzer, how different … like night and day … from last year on this date. Yes NRS was around but only in very isolated cases, at least here in the USA. The way the news about it was covered it was almost a joke, exaggeration, or tall tale; more hyperbole than anything else. Last year Rose and James watched the younger three and Scott and I actually got to go to dress up and make a whole day of having fun to celebrate our anniversary. We went walking along the Pier first, got a small bite to eat, then came home and got really gussied up and went to a nice steak restaurant and then to the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center to catch a reprise of _The Jersey Boys_ , one of our favorites.

This year we can't count all of our kids on one hand any more. I haven't been near a beach in a year and it will likely be some time before we could take the time to do such a thing again … and even when we do I doubt it will be with anything less on than camo and a side arm. Getting gussied up tonight was taking a midweek bath and using Avon Skin-So-Soft instead of Deep Woods Off to keep the bugs away. Our fancy dinner was eating a picnic version of what everyone else was eating sitting on one of my old quilts by the glow of a citronella candle. And the Performing Arts Center is nothing but rubble.

My, my, my; what a difference a year can make. But, the most important thing remains true; we are still together regardless of the problems that have beset us. I still have him, he still has me and we have all of the children as reasonably safe and secure as we can.

I didn't have much work in the garden today … or should I say I didn't have as much work. Saen, Anne, Tina, and Becky came over to help. Mostly the only new thing to harvest was a few new rows of hot peppers but there are always things to harvest. They picked several bushels of beans and about of which they took back with them when they left in the afternoon.

I haven't seen Becky much since they moved to Aldea. She's 22 weeks along and boy is she showing. I wasn't sure what to make of Tina being there. I saw her talking to Dante' mid-morning … more like fussing at him from the looks of it. I asked Saen and she told me they are having trouble with Bo. He isn't taking his parents' separation at all well. Tina is blaming Dante' for giving the boy ideas that maybe she and Dante' could still get back together. I don't know. Kids can have that idea all on their own when they want it bad enough. From what I now hear they are going to try and have Bo with Dante' Monday through Thursday so he can have some consistent schooling and then Friday through Sunday afternoon he'll be with Tina at Aldea. I guess they'll just have to see how that goes.

As far as how well Scott and I are doing … "fine as frogs hair" as my Daddy used to say, so long as he doesn't get long winded about going north. He wants me to be all excited for him but I feel like tossing my cookies from anxiety. Maybe if we were all going together but that just isn't reasonable and I can't have both Scott and I gone from the kids at the same time. And either he didn't have the run on his mind or he was trying to keep the peace and didn't mention it … either way suited me just fine, nothing about it was brought up except in a roundabout way when he said he had wanted to find me some apples as a surprise but no one has any to sell or trade around here. We here they are cheap up north according to the radio but … like I said, it was brought up and dropped so fast I didn't even have time to get upset.

Besides I was all agog over the gift Scott had given me; or I should say gifts. The first one was this cool hand sickle … looked very similar to one that you see on the Russian flag only this one had lots of detail work on the outside of the blade and was shaped just a wee bit different. It's called a hisaya. It is about eleven inches all together with a four and a quarter inch handle as part of that length. It only weighs about six ounces. He found it months ago in that strange house were we found all the big game hunting equipment. It has a perfect weight and balance for my hand. Scott said it was too small for many of the men so it could very well have been designed for a woman to use in the field. I was already planning how much use I could get out of it and what was the best way to carry it when he gave me the second gift.

It brought me to tears. He knew how much the loss of my machete was bothering me. He hadn't really realized how much I had used it and how much comfort it had brought me until it was gone. First he had asked Bob to put it back together the best way he could and then he mounted it and the sheath on a really nice piece of wood and I have it hanging over the top of my closet door. It is strictly ornamental of course but there is lots of sentimental value to it. It that had been all I would have been more than satisfied but he wasn't finished.

On one of Glenn's recent forays Scott asked him to keep an eye out for a cutlery store or something similar and see if he could find a high quality replacement for the machete. He admitted that he hadn't had much hope of that and Glenn said that had he stuck with store fronts it would have been a lost cause. However, salvaging for something totally different on this last run he busted into a warehouse only to find out it was a shared space with an import/export business. There was a whole selection of Asian imports and of this, not a small selection was from Thailand. He was scooping all of that stuff that he could … seasonings, cloth, etc. … and then he found a bunch of Thai weaponry. Now most of the stuff was purely decorative but somehow or other there came to be a few pieces of authentic stuff in there and Glenn offered a couple of pieces to Scott when they arrived back this afternoon.

Scott said it was in the nick of time. It is different from my old machete but … it's beautiful. It is called an e-nep. It is the Thai version of a machete, or sword, or long knife … kind of all combined. It is nineteen inches long and Scott weighed it in at a pound two ounces. Wow is it efficient at what it does. It was cutting through small limbs with almost no effort. Scott sharpened it with my dad's sharpening kit so it had that wow-factor to it. The handle is a little different but Scott said if I wind up not being able to get used to it he'll trim the wood back so that it fits better in my hand.

The e-nep has this really wicked curve to the blade that … it is like it is so eager to work that the blade is hurrying up to get where you are sending it. I know that sounds weird but that's how it feels in my hand. The e-nep kind of looks like the khukuri that my dad almost bought years ago but not quite as fancy. The e-nep is definitely a working man's tool that gives me a lot of control in confined spaces. It's not a sword; I may have to take Scott up on his offer to shave the handle down a bit.

After that bit of excitement I felt chagrinned that my gift to him wasn't more but I'm happy to say he was very pleased with it. I'm glad as I did put a lot of work into it. I took one of those single sling backpacks and made a pattern from it then using some chamois, leather, and heavy-duty camouflage material I had I made a duplicate of the original. Only the one I fixed unzipped so that it would open up flat like a book. I had used some of those armor pieces from the NRSC and inserted them into the lining of the backpack so that when it is open he will have a hard surface to draw or write on. On one of the inside sides I put these zippered pockets on the inside that hold his squares, tape measures, plumb lines, and stuff like that. On the other side is a clip board. Basically it is all his surveying stuff in one handy-dandy carrier. And the bonus is that the NRSC armor is exactly that … armor. When he is wearing it on his back it's like Kevlar. Scott brought me to tears again when he said, "Now you have my back even when you aren't around." Gack … the big mushy romantic.

Well, I hear Scott rattling the door knob and coming in so I'm am going to stop for the evening. All the kids are asleep and we plan on extended our "mushy moments" for a little while longer.


	240. Day 282

_**Day 282 (Wednesday) – May 8**_

The day went well enough until shortly after lunch. I've spent the rest of this day in the Clinic and in fact that is where I am now, writing this entry instead of typing it.

The morning was actually wonderful. Yesterday was so nice that Scott and I woke up in a wonderful mood. David ribbed us about it a little which made Rose (and James) blush. I didn't care at all, that's how good a mood I was in. Since I didn't have to cook breakfast we had even slept in an extra thirty minutes and after our late night even thirty minutes was a welcome addition.

Right after breakfast I started more preserving and since I had already dried most of the peaches, nectarines, and plums, or used them in canning recipes, I thought it would be a good time to make some of them into glace' fruit. This is a multi-day activity so I have to make sure and put the stuff where varmints and insects can't get at it and ruin it before the project is finished.

First, you make a sugar syrup. Yes, I know that is using more sugar but I used watered down cane syrup for this part instead of water with granulated sugar. Then you bring that to a gentle boil and let it boil like that for 20 minutes to thicken it back up. I know that's a little silly but it is what you have to do, plus you need to raise the temperature of the syrup anyway. You want to slowly bring the syrup to the softball candy stage (that's 189 degrees F on a candy thermometer). You have to be careful not to make it too hot or your syrup will get dark and crackly when it cools.

Once you have your sugar syrup to the right temp you remove it from the heat and one pound up cut up and peeled (if necessary) fruit. Stir it gently to make sure all of the surfaces are covered by the syrup. Then you put the pan of fruit and syrup back onto the heat and bring it back up to 189 degree F. The fruit will have cooled the syrup down a bit. After you have achieved the right temperature again, take the pan off the heat again and then cover it and let it sit at room temperature for twenty-four hours. Its work if you are running multiple batches but it is worth it.

I made two other things today and have already had to lock them away to keep the guys out of them. I candied watermelon rind and I made mock figs.

For the candied watermelon rind you want to get about four cups of rind cut into two-inch by ¼ - inch slices. Then you put the slices into a saucepan with three cups of water and bring it to a boil, boiling until the rind turns translucent. This usually takes about 30 minutes after which you drain off the water. In another saucepan combine ½ cup of corn syrup, one and ¾ cups granulated sugar, and 1 ½ cups of water and bring it all to a boil until the granulated sugar dissolves. Then you gently add the now translucent watermelon rind, reduce the heat to medium low, and cook until almost all of the sugar syrup has been absorbed which takes about 40 minutes.

You take that mess off of the heat and stir in a small box of Jell-O (of which we seem to have more than we will ever be able to use) until it is dissolved and all surfaces of the rind are coated. Let that cool. With a slotted spoon – this is messy – move the watermelon rind to drying trays and then dry the slices until it is leathery but not hard. This should take about four hours.

When you take the fruit off of the tray, roll the slices in confectioner's sugar and store in layers separated by waxed paper in airtight containers. I had made several pounds when I noticed that two boxes were missing. Scott had casually carried one away and then David grabbed another one and hauled it in the opposite direction. They shared and at least I got my containers back so I'm not going to fuss too much. The guys work so hard every single day. I'm not going to begrudge them a treat … I just don't want all the hard work to get used up in a single day.

I'll explain how I made the mock figs tomorrow if I remember to. I'm so rattled right now that I just can't think to make sure I don't miss a step in the explanation.

Like I said, the day was going fine and dandy; really clicking along and productive. Lunch had just come and gone and I didn't notice anything wrong.

About an hour after lunch I see Bob and Angus come running from the metal shop. Bob has Bubby and Angus has Johnnie. I'm thinking, "Oh my God, some kind of accident."

Actually it was just Bubby and Johnnie was so upset that Angus had to deal with him. Angus met me as I was running to find out what had happened and Johnnie quickly shifted from Angus to me and started crying that he wanted Scott.

Bubby just collapsed. Both men thought he was fooling around because he'd just been laughing and cutting up but by the time they got to him he was burning up with fever. Angus radioed Scott with the unit in the Clinic and it wasn't five minutes later that he was there. Good thing too because Johnnie was really starting to freak.

Ski and I stripped Bubby and got him into a tub of water to try and cool him off. He was so hot he was even hard for me to hold. Ski and Scott listened while Bob and Angus repeated what had happened in more detail.

It took forever to get his fever down. It was as high as 104.3 F and that scared the bejeebers out of me. We alternated children's Tylenol and children's Motrin every two hours and that finally started bringing it back down into the normal range. Ski also started him on antibiotics. We don't know if it is viral or bacterial at this point but whatever it is also seems to be making him appear anemic.

I was worried that Sis was going to be particularly upset. We've always assumed that they were biological siblings because we found them together and they look so similar but there doesn't appear to be any extra special bond between the two of them. In fact, Bubby and Johnnie are more tightly bonded than Bubby and Sis are. Sis just kind of hangs out with the girls although she is particularly attached to Rose who acts as her second mother I guess.

I wish we knew what was going on, it is driving Scott and I a little crazy. None of our biological kids have ever really been sick except for Sarah who had a ruptured appendix when she was three. Now that I think of that though, what would happen if one of the kids (or adults) was to have that happen to them now. We don't exactly have the surgical facilities to take care of something like that although Chad would probably give it his best shot.

And speaking of Chad he is going to come by tomorrow and check over Bubby. Not because we requested it but because Waleski did. Ski, for all he has come so far in so short a period of time has still only got basic medical training; everything else he is learning on his own. He was very up front with us telling us the symptoms could mean anything at this point. When we asked if he had anything particular in mind he again said he simply didn't have enough facts to make a single diagnosis and wanted Chad to see what he thought.

Chad has been slowly setting up a medical lab of sorts over at OSAG headquarters. Now that they've managed to build a couple of indoor coolers built along the same principles as our big Cooler he is even seeing if he can create simple penicillin. What a boon to the TTT that would be although we've got a couple of people deathly allergic to it so it isn't a panacea.

About eight o'clock Bubby's temperature went away as quickly as it appeared and he was even hungry though his energy level was decidedly on the low end from what it usually is. This is just bizarre is all I can say. It could have been something he ate but on the other hand we all ate the same thing unless he got into something he shouldn't have and while that is unlikely (and he claims he didn't) we can't totally rule that out. It could be bacterial or viral, again though we don't know. The antibiotics help which you would think would rule out viral yet if it is a secondary infection to a viral infection. Ski also said he could have a parasitic problem but before he gives him anything for that he wants Chad to check him over.

Since Bubby was so hungry, and because he has already lost a significant amount of weight, Ski said to go ahead and give him broth. As soon as he had finished that and a decent sized container of Pedialyte from the Clinic's supplies he was out like a light … but no recurrence of the fever, at least not yet.

I decided to stay the night at the Clinic since Scott was so wrung out. We had some problems with zombies today and he's been running back and forth between the work sites and us to check on Bubby. They poured the first footers for the first tower today at the new far NW corner. It is taking them longer than they expected but Scott thinks they will pick up speed with experience.

The zombies have come, attracted to the noise of the big equipment. This has caused a problem because normally the zombies have been travelling in waves, all going the same direction. However, now that they've been attracted to sounds they are coming at the work sites from all directions. The problem this causes besides the obvious is that instead of protecting roughly one side we have to have guards in a circle around the whole site which cuts down on the number of hands left to do the heavy work. That also means that we have to spend time hauling off the sanitized corpses at the end of the day which is just one more chore to do.

James and David … the sweethearts split my guard duty tonight (again) so that I could sit with Bubby. It worries me though because David is working just as hard as the other men and James is just now getting fully healed from the ZKK offensive. And we have signs of big cats digging around in the area looking for food. Mr. Choi's group has taken to locking all their livestock up at night and night before last they came out to find all the animals in a tizzy and huge scratch marks around the doors, windows, and in one place on the roof where something had tried to get in. They radioed that they had put security bars over the barn windows or whatever it was would likely have broken in that way it appeared so desperate.

Dora said she lost a chick a couple of days ago but she thinks it was to a small feral cat the kids have seen slinking around. The smell was really strong so I suggested it might not be a house cat type cat but an African Civet (could have escaped from Busch Gardens) or a spotted skunk of some type. Some of the Civet cats we have in Florida are hard to tell from house cats except for their smell and the fact that they are black and white. A hawk could also have gotten it while no one was looking. The Red-Tails are making a decided comeback and we find them sitting on fence posts inside Sanctuary all the time … hopefully they'll help with the rodent population.

I'm going to lay down and see if I can get a little sleep. My nerves are strung tight but if I don't get some sleep now it will only be worse tomorrow and I need all my wits to understand whatever Chad has to say.


	241. Day 283

_**Author's Note:** My apologies for having disappeared for so long. Life, family, work, and computer issues pretty much made it impossible for me to get back to posting for a bit. Anyway ... here they come. I might miss some typos so forgive me. I'll be updating all of the stories and trying to finish a couple this week. Yahooooo._

* * *

 _ **Day 283 (Thursday) – May 9**_

I like Chad. Really I do. But gee … he is such a … a … a doctor. OK, maybe that sounds stupid but … No, I know my frustration isn't Chad's fault. We've lost so much and it's at times like these that that realization hits home the hardest.

Bubby was acting fine today after scaring the dickens out of us yesterday; no fever, reasonable appetite if not quite what it used to be. Complaining a bit about feeling achy but we don't know if that is a virus symptom or simply due to being in bed so much lately and not getting the exercise that he is used to.

Chad took some blood and is going to attempt to run some tests but unless it is something obvious he isn't sure whether his equipment will let him be able to positively diagnose what is going on. Even if it shows up in the blood and cultures it will take him time to figure out what it is and how best to treat it. Chad said he isn't going to say anything until he has more information. He gave Bubby a thorough check up, noting everything that could give him leads; he also checked Johnnie just in case since they share so much. Whatever it is Chad said the symptoms cover a wide range of both similar and dissimilar possibilities and that until he narrows it down there wasn't even a course of treatment that he is willing to settle on since some contraindicated one another if he picks the wrong one.

I mean, what did Scott and I expect? Are we truly being so unreasonable? Yes, we probably are. Even with a fully functional lab, with trained staff, results for some of the tests he is going to try and run took weeks to get back pre-NRS. He is just one man with a pieced together lab and only his determination and dedication to set him apart from some of the witch doctor types that have set up shop out there.

Even some legitimate doctors and scientists are beginning to sound three-quarters crazy when they get on the radio these days. That Dr. Jager was back on, though not on OSAG's broadcast channel. I listened to him tonight talk about why there aren't more child zombies out there and why we didn't have zombies springing up out of the graveyards. He is sounding crazier and crazier; I'll admit he sounds a lot like the late and unlamented Brother Jeremiah these days.

Despite his rather bizarre hallucinogenic sounding blather – like he's been at the wrong kind of mushrooms if you get my meaning – he still manages to make some sense. He must have been a real scientist at some point but lately you have flake away the crazy to get at the brains. Even then however, you can tell he knows what he is talking about, at least as far as the virus is concerned.

First, as far as the graveyard zombies go we already knew that brains that were too physically damaged could not reanimate. What Dr. Jager and his team have also determined is that if you die before you are infected you aren't going to reanimate. It takes that initial spark of life to set the NRS virus in motion, and there has to be sufficient amounts of the NRS system in your brain and bloodstream as well. Why most bodies reanimate, and the speed at which the reanimate, apparently falls within logical and scientific parameters; it is the amount of infection within the blood, lymph nodes, and brain (especially the limbic system). Many people right before death also experience an adrenaline surge that also seems to have something to do with a population explosion of the NRS virus. A lot of this was scientific jargon that was well over my head but it did give me something to think on.

The other issue of why there weren't more child zombies however really drew my attention. Apparently in addition to the amount of virus in the blood there is also the issue of the number of synaptic contacts within the brain itself. Children's brains are still developing. Some children's brains seem to make synaptic connections more quickly than others … in other words their brain is developing at a phenomenal rate until they get to about the adolescent stage of development, then it is the other parts of the body that is the primary focus of development energies. There are some variables – perhaps immeasurable – that likely explain why some children do become infected. It falls back to the issue of the amount of infection in the body overwhelming whatever would naturally be holding the brain back from being able to "catch" the NRS.

Dr. Jager explained it like this. Take a child, any child of any age since brain development is flexible by age and sex, and if that child's brain has not reached a currently unknown number of synaptic connections then s/he won't return as a zombie. The closer to the optimal number of synaptic connections a child gets - usually based on nearness to adolescence - the greater the likelihood of becoming a zombie. However, there is a variable to this "protection." If enough virus is dumped into the child's system, either from exposure or direct contact (a bite, infected blood products, etc.) or casual contact (soil or perhaps aerosoled water droplets), then they can have a lower number of synaptic connections and still get infected because somehow the virus itself strings together to create the synaptic connections. But there is a point where the lack of synaptic connections cannot be breached by the virus.

The few fetal or newborn infecteds that have been reported were full of their mother's adrenaline, at least according to Dr. Jager and would not have lived long either due to quick brain deterioration or due to physical deprivation of the newborn body itself. How on earth the doctor knew about this I am really very sure I don't want to ever know.

I promised to write out how I make Mock Figs. It really isn't that hard at all and all you need are Roma Tomatoes, butter, and brown sugar. First you peel one pound of Roma tomatoes. Then after you've peeled the tomatoes (using boiling water helps with this), you take a serrated knife and core the tomatoes, cut off a slice from both ends, and then quarter the tomatoes lengthwise. In a saucepan melt a tablespoon of butter and then add ¾ cup brown sugar and cook this until the sugar melts. Then you add the tomatoes to the sugar and cook them for 10 to 20 minutes or until the sugar permeates the tomatoes. Using a slotted spoon you take the tomatoes out of the pan and put them on a very lightly oiled drying tray. Place the drying trays in the dehydrator and dry for about 8 hours. While they dry, the tomatoes will darken in color to look very similar to figs.

After the tomatoes are dry you sprinkle them with confectioner's sugar and then store in layers separated by waxed paper in airtight containers. A pound of Roma tomatoes will give you about 28 mock figs. They are better than you think they would be. The candying and then drying really concentrates the sweetness of the tomatoes in a way that is unexpected.

Talked to Saen a bit, she got Glenn to bring her over with him while he played in the skunkworks. She's dancing on air after Glenn was able to find all that stuff for her. She wanted to trade some though for some of my more "American" type herbs and spices as not everyone is fond of the flaming hot Thai dishes that she cooks. She also told me it looked like the gators on the river were settling down. I told her the males might be but the females would get a little testy if they had a nest with eggs. It might be a good time to thin a few if they are seen too close to their side of the river. They could put the gator meat in their version of a cooler and stretch the hide for boots or belts or something.

I left Saen chatting with our new moms … and our moms-to-be. I was right. Rilla and Melody both are expecting. Cease gets red in the face every time it is brought up and Waleski can't seem to make up his mind whether he is going to strut like a rooster or faint. They'll all do just fine but I will admit that Melody having a baby makes me a little leery. I wonder if this will push Rose closer or further away from David's obvious devotion. And now I have Charlene and James to keep an eye on. I thought I'd have to worry about Maddie and Tris but Maddie has flat out said that one baby at a time is plenty, referring to Cinda.

I'm having baby problems of my own … Kitty is teething again and now she is starting to try to walk in earnest. Rose was nine months old when she started walking but James waited until his first birthday before he would turn loose and start on his own. Sarah and Bekah were between the two but Johnnie was walking at 8 months and hasn't stopped yet. I noticed Johnnie is real clingy right now, especially with Scott. It appears that Bubby's illness has him upset and in need of reassurance. Last night when Scott and I checked on the kids for the last time we found that Johnnie had put his pillow and covers on the floor beside Bubby's bed and cried when we tried to put him back in his bed. Poor kid, he's as anxious as the rest of us to find out what is going on with Bubby.

And with that I think I'll check on all my little pumpkins and head to bed. I know I haven't typed a great deal but I feel all wrung out. The highs and lows of the past few days just doesn't seem to leave me any extra energy at all.


	242. Day 284

_**Day 284 (Friday) – May 10**_

Today was a cleaning and gardening day and I was well into my morning "to do" list when there was a "whooomp" and then a "thud" from the skunkworks and a bunch of laughing and cheering. They are driving me nuts with their tomfoolery. I think they are making fireworks or something similar because at lunch Angus had a singed eyebrow, Jim had burnt all the hair off of his right forearm, and Ronan's ear was blistered at the top. Waleski's eye occasionally twitches like he wants to slug somebody when they come over to be bandaged up wearing their fools' grins. I'm doing my best not to be a fuss budget but Scott and David both came home smelling like chemicals. I made them hang their clothes outside to air out. I have suspicions about what is going on over there but I don't want to guess out loud.

What I would like to know however is what Glenn has been into lately. It is like his spring got wound too tight. I've caught him talking to some imaginary companion a couple of times and then laughing at jokes only he seems to understand. Saen says he is OK, just working on a project. Apparently our resident mad scientist/crazy engineer goes all Dr. Demento when he is problem solving and making plans. Well, I can put up with a little crazy if he continues to come up with ideas like he has for the last few months.

Speaking of good ideas, Dix and Scott have just about worked out the logistics for a better comm system for here inside Sanctuary. If we can work it out then Aldea will put it together and OSAG will do their thing as well, though I suspect they already have something already set up. When we took down all the telephone and electric poles in the area we wound up with a ton of cable; literally miles and miles of the stuff. Dix is testing out a Morse Code set up between the current guard stations and the comm center in the Radio Shack. Scott has said that he would prefer to bury the cables instead of having them strung up all over the place. When the Morse Code set up is perfected – and you might as well say it is now – they are going to go for landline hook ups using field phones and old style telephones. It will be a closed, point-to-point system so that it doesn't require a switchboard.

However, once the curtain wall is completed it is very possible that each building within Sanctuary will have landlines installed so that we can have total coverage of phone communication. Due to the complexity of that set up however we will need a switchboard operator. Bekah and Claire are already all over that idea. I'm not sure of all the requirements for such as system but it will require batteries for the electrical charge I think and probably a few more elements in addition to the simple hardware of phones and cables. It might be very primitive but if they did it in the late 1800s/early 1900s then recreating it shouldn't be that difficult. It could help increase our efficiency … no more having to locate a kid to run a message around or stopping to do it yourself … but it could complicate things as well. We'll have to make sure we don't bury the lines anyplace that we will have to dig and we'll have to be careful that we put the conduit deep enough that if it is driven over, it doesn't get crushed. And best part, no running around in the middle of a firefight or storm … of course if Scott starts getting maintenance calls in the middle of the night again I might just have to rethink the whole phones being wonderful thing idea.

The kids are all fine and dandy although Kitty teething makes for a dangerous and cranky baby … Angus wasn't paying attention and she got him right on the knuckle. She has jaws like a pit bull and it wasn't easy to pry her off. Thank goodness she didn't break the skin but had it been me I would have been laughing and making jokes about how good she is going to be against the boys one day like Angus was. I'm beginning to think Uncle Angus may be encouraging her with some of her more … unusual … reactions. I watched Kitty sneak up on Al and Padric with a stick today and go "bam, bam" as she hit them. Now you tell me that was a mini-shelaleigh wielder having some practice.

Scott and I are becoming more resigned to Rose getting married younger than we had ever expected. Are she and David acting any more serious than they did before? No. On the other hand, Rose will be eighteen next month and life being what it is I have a hard time imagining her (and him) waiting until she is twenty-one to pair off. On the other hand, maybe they will wait. Neither one seems to be in a hurry. Most of the time I just put it to the side and try not to think about it too hard.

Argh, those awful ravens and blackbirds are back. They are after the corn. So far they haven't done too much damage but we've had to use the slingshots quite a bit. The red tail hawks also keep their numbers somewhat in check but there is so many of them that no one method works completely. What is so totally gross about them is that I know they are breeding like crazy because the ravens at least are kind of omnivorous and I'm sure they pick at the zombies and other corpses. The more food the more egg production … and the meaner those blasted birds get. I swear I have had more than a few dive bomb me when I try and shoo them out of the corn. It's gotten so bad that I've started dreaming about the blasted things a la The Birds, that movie by Alfred Hitchcock. Scott had to wake me up the last time I was dreaming about them. Somehow the birds and the zombies all got mixed up and I dreamed of decomposing Ravens attacking my children, only they had the same lifeless eyes as the zombies; the smell in my dream was enough to have me waking up retching.

All of the footers and foundations for the towers on the north side of the curtain wall have been dug and poured. The footers and foundations are going considerably faster than pouring the walls of the towers are going. The thickness of the towers – three feet – requires more drying time than we thought it would, and Scott is trying to be particularly careful that there are no air pockets in the pour around the solid debris which means the actual pouring itself has to go slower. The first tower they started on has three courses poured, the second tower has two courses poured, the third tower has one course poured, and the fourth tower that they have footers and foundations ready for a first course pour tomorrow if it doesn't rain before they can get to it.

Scott had told Glenn rather than getting liftable equipment to get one of those concrete pumper trucks. Rather than having to life equipment they use a crane mechanism that lifts the hose that sprays the concrete in. But they found after the first course was poured that that the work became progressively more difficult as they had to lift the concrete rubble and lay it into to the slip molds neatly as they went. It is rough work under the hot sun even with everyone helping. Even I took a turn running the concrete hose for a few minutes.

In the later afternoons there has also been a crew working on a foundation for two large storm shelters, one of which will also serve as a food storehouse for our grains and such. It is kind of hard to believe but June 1st will start hurricane season all over again. Last year and the year before that weren't bad at all. A few years back we had a couple of absolutely horrible seasons but no direct hits or Tampa Bay though there were land falls just to the south and just to the north. I pray for another "quiet" season; we can't handle that kind of devastation on top of everything else. The buildings will be dome-shaped when they are finished and the building process is going to be pretty neat the way they explain it around the dinner table but I'll wait and detail it when the work actually begins.

Heard that the peddlers are in the area but not necessarily close by. Apparently they've begun to behave with an abundance of caution with all the unattached gangbangers going around now that the ZKK snakehead has been squashed. I guess it is that, but I'm anxious to see what Tasha has from Iggy. Now that I'm sitting down and trying to think about it I can't remember for sure whether Iggy meant a letter or if I assumed that was what he meant. Argh! I'll have to find the time and go back over my journal tomorrow and see if I can find it … and hope I didn't misinterpret what I was hearing when I wrote it down.

Memorial Day is coming. I'm not sure whether we will celebrate it or not. I got a mixed reaction when I mentioned it. There are a lot of people to remember that have left us. I think whether people want to do something communitywide I will still do my own remembrance in some way. I used to take flowers to the local cemeteries; there isn't anything stopping me from doing the same thing for our own little cemetery over in the orange grove.

I worry that we forget too easily these days; that we push the emotions of grief and sorrow away to readily rather than dealing with it. Those on-air counseling shows are very popular but I have a hard time listening to them for long; I've lost my ability to remain detached. The stories eat me up and add to my nightmares. Sometimes it feels like I've reached the end of my rope and then I find out – to my horror – I can take more. I know I need to be strong for my family but I worry about becoming too hardened at the same time.

Take today for instance. I had gone out to take something cool for the wall workers to drink. I had the cooler strapped into a child's little red wagon and was pulling it along. All of the noise from the construction continues to draw the zombies in dribs and drabs. We can easily pick most of them off but sometimes the men miss a few. As I neared one of the work sites two shamblers came out of the over growth in front of me. I stopped, took sight, aimed and shot once … twice. They were so close it was like shooting fish in a barrel or nearly so.

No panic, no nothing. It is like I barely registered what I did. I got to the work site and someone asked, "Trouble or food?" That meant trouble or had I been hunting. I answered, "Neither, just some shamblers." No one was upset, no one cared. "Ok, we'll haul 'em to Juicer when we are finished here."

Scott pitched a bit of a fit tonight when he found out about it but it wasn't until then that it really struck me; the zombies were young, not children but not much more than teenagers from the look of them. One of them had on what was left of a letterman's jacket of all things. It was an "H" so more than likely it was from Hillsborough Highschool. My imagination then went into overdrive … were they brother and sister, boyfriend and girlfriend, did they know each other at all and the fact that two teenager type shamblers were travelling together simply a coincidence? What happened to them? When did it happen to them? They were decomposed but not too badly? If the jacket didn't stand for Hillsborough Highschool where was it from? How far had they travelled? How much damage had they done? They had dried and caked blood all over them but didn't have enough damage for it to be all their own.

Around and around and around the thoughts started to fly and all I could do was tell Scott I needed to be held. He slowly let off fussing at me when he realized I was in a delayed reaction brought on by his anger. I'm sorry it upset him that he thought he upset me … but I'm glad to have dealt with it during my waking hours than having that nightmarish funhouse waiting for me in my unconscious dreams.

In fact I'm going to do something I really don't like to do but I think I need to. I'm going to take a sleeping pill and go lay in bed and wait for it to take effect. I know it is stress but I dream all night and wake up more tired than when I went to bed the night before. That cannot continue unless I want to get sick.


	243. Day 285

_**Day 285 (Saturday) – May 11**_

Worked my buns off in the garden today. I was grateful for some help from Aldea and one of Shorty's daughters came over with a couple of ladies from OSAG. I don't know them as well as Saen does. Their proximity means the folks from Aldea and OSAG run into each other more and they also do cooperative work on the roads and surrounding infrastructure whereas we are more the food growing location. For example some folks from Aldea and OSAG pulled down a couple of bridges that were already getting wobbly after all the NRSC troopers had come through following the Hive. The bridges were dangerous but they were also a security risk so down they came.

Saen delegates better than I do when it comes to adults so I let her set the group's pace out in the garden. I can boss kids around all day but telling the other adult women what they should and should not do has gotten harder for me unless I'm acting as some type of instructor. Even Rose remarked the other day that I'm not near as chatty as I used to be. I guess I just don't feel like talking much these days. I'm concentrating on getting through my daily "gotta do" list to leave me time for things on my "wanna do" list and I just don't have time to socialize. I know I keep saying that I'm going to come to tea time but it always seems to slip by me. Besides, by now those women really shouldn't need me to tell them how to pick beans; any comments I made would have made me appear bossy.

I went back out to the garden after they left and now wish maybe that I had said something after all. Several of the rows had a lot of beans that were missed. Plus they picked over the bushes (of beans) that I had set aside for seed. I guess I'll be back out there tomorrow even though it is a rest day. I can't let anything go to waste if I can prevent it. Charlene said she will help but I hate to work the girl like that as it's my own fault for not speaking up while I had the chance, plus Betty and Reba are going to need help in the kitchen getting all of these beans processed. We've got bushel baskets stacked in the Cooler waiting to be canned and dried.

Scott isn't taking a rest day either. Tomorrow they will make the final pour on the first tower they started so that on Monday they can set the crenellations at the top in place on that tower and finish the pour on the second tower as well. The towers are something to behold and I'm very happy to say that Scott and crew did a good job with the leveling and foundations. The dry moat is also a sight to behold. It looks like a massive retention pond type thing that stretches all the way around Sanctuary.

Theo comes over a lot From Dora's place. He is the oldest boy over there and I think all the girls give him an awful time of it. I heard him telling James that the work doesn't bother him; it's really an escape from all of his "sisters" that are constantly pestering him and trying to order him about. The younger boys don't seem to mind it and take it in stride but Theo doesn't appear to be the kind of boy that can put up with much of that without getting angry. I guess in that respect it is better that he works some of that off on the curtain wall. Dora seems relieved to have found him something to do as well.

Angus has gone over to help Dora a few times; the girls don't fluster him at all. Most of the kids over there are already calling him "Uncle Angus" just like our kids. Angus is actually doing Scott and Dix a favor by keeping an eye on the satellite communities. We don't have any real authority to force the satellite communities to maintain certain standards of hygiene, security, etc. but Angus has a way of guiding them through suggestions that works better than Dix going over there and saying something to the same effect. Jim pops in and out as well as a distraction to let Angus get a look-see; everyone loves Jim's accent. Jim can get away with a lot just with that accent alone. His naughtiness will even get a chuckle out of me at times. He plays the crazy Australian so well at times you know he has to be playing fast and loose which only makes it funnier. He and Angus actually got a smile out of me today and it was the last thing I felt like doing at the time.

Kim and Daniel have settled into a little on the other side of one of the lakes on the west side of us. The house they picked wasn't too damaged and Angus and Jim lent Daniel some extra hands to take care of some of the fix up that needed doing. They've got their own citrus trees surrounding them which look like they are going to do fairly well this winter. There is plenty of space for a garden big enough for the two of them and Daniel traded some more techie work for some baby angora bunnies so that she can start her own hutches for natural fibers to weave with. She also showed Sarah and Samuel how to gather the Alpacas' hair in a curry comb and save it for her. I heard she wasn't feeling good and has "female problems" so Melody and Rose and going through the meds inventory to see if there is anything that she can use.

The kids are up to something, I'm not sure what. And my head hurts too much to wonder for too long. Scott and I had another fight today about him going north on the run. He wants to take James. I keep saying OK, fine but they won't just leave it alone. They want me to be "OK with it." What? Am I supposed to give them my blessing or something? They are going to go. I can't stop them. I'm done trying to stop them. I'm trying to find some peace about it. How dare they act like that isn't enough.

I don't know if I even want to write this stuff in my journal. It's just too … something; nasty, confusing, hurtful, whatever. Scott and I aren't perfect. We've both got tempers and both can be hard headed as all get out. I know that. Most of the time we can work our way through it. Usually I'm the one that is too pushy to fix things, make things right. This time Scott is the one that just won't let it go.

He and James both want something I can't give them … I can't be happy or excited for them. I'm scared that either one or both of them won't be coming home. What do they expect from me?! I've capitulated. I'm not arguing about them going. I'm even helping them go by making sure they have clothes and food and whatever else I can think of. Why can't that be enough? Why is it they both want more than I've already given them? All they care about is not feekubg any guilt about going. I'm not asking them to feel guilty. I'm not asking them not to go. I've stopped doing the sad face thing. I've stopped trying everything that I have been trying; it's nothing but wasted energy and emotionally draining for me and them.

But I'll be damned if I'm going to be a fake and dance around like I'm happy about it. They want my blessing? I'm already saying, "fine, go." What the heck else do they want me to say?!

I can't write anymore tonight. I thought it would help maybe to bleed everything off into this journal but it's only concentrating my emotions and making them more potent. I'm going to stop right now, put away the typewriter and just … meditate or something. Anything to get away from how angry I am that unconditional surrender isn't enough.


	244. Day 286

_**Day 286 (Sunday) – May 12 – Mother's Day**_

Day started wonderfully, ended horribly. Why does it have to be this way?!


	245. Day 287

_**Day 287 (Monday) – May 13**_

I guess it will help if I write this stuff out. Yesterday the kids surprised all of the mothers in Sanctuary with a Mother's Day breakfast. It was a little hard for some of them … Maddie cried a bit, Tris barely put Cinda down, some of the Cheval kids were extremely silent during the early part of the day.

About mid-day yesterday the kids put on a "talent showcase." There was no competition; they just wanted a chance to show off for us. I had had no idea but Padric can play the violin … I mean play it, not just make cat scratching noise on it. Some did pieces on the piano or sang, some showed pictures they had drawn or painted, some of the boys did exhibitions of the animals they were caring for and training or new skills they had learned like archery.

I didn't do any work yesterday, the kids did it all. Charlene was in charge of the garden chores and Rose was in charge of the house chores. I guess the men were in on it to a certain extent or the kids would have been able to get away with half of what they did without it asinterfering with the normal schedule.

Pup was acting bizarre all through dinner. I thought something was wrong with Wiggles but the puppy was fine. Pup was running in circles and when she was finally allowed in the Dining Hall (she is one of the few dogs that are allowed in there) she marched stiff legged under the kids' table. We thought that perhaps she could either hear something we couldn't or sensed zombies in the area and wanted the kids to go back home. She has done that a few times so Dix told the guards on the Wall to keep an eye out.

We made it all the way through dinner and the day was ending quietly and everyone seemed to be satisfied. No zombies, no strangers in the area, nothing. It was a nice, quiet day. In fact our family was walking back home right as it was getting dark when the nightmare started.

Scott looked back and told the boys to keep up – they tend to drag their feet when they know it is bath time and then bed time right afterwards – when he saw Johnnie with his arm around Bubby helping him along. Scott said at first he thought they were just goofing around like they do putting their arms around each other like buddies but a longer look made him realize that Bubby was having problems. The first I knew what was going on Scott had let go of my hand and run back.

By the time we got Bubby to the Clinic he was already having a seizure. That seizure was the worst one up to that point. And there was no fever associated with this one which was even scarier because we couldn't put it down to being a febrile seizure any more. Within a couple of hours where we had held him to try and prevent him from doing himself an injury during the seizure he was black and blue. It looked like we beat him on a regular basis. We hadn't even held him tightly as we were afraid of breaking bones, just enough to keep him from hurting himself.

Even scarier than the seizure itself was the fact that Bubby was completely zoned out afterwards. He was acting confused and even vomited a couple of times. Ski told us that some seizures can result in these behaviors but he still put out a call to Chad.

OSAG was dealing with a small horde of zombies that had their building surrounded so he couldn't come right away but he and Waleski conferred by radio and the only thing that could be done at that point was to make Bubby comfortable and to watch for signs of more seizures. Ski also reported the other symptoms to Chad including this rash that he was developing that Ski called petechiae and the fact that his lymph glades were swollen.

Ski wouldn't comment or make a diagnosis. I was getting angry, I knew he had some idea of what was going on but he wouldn't say until Chad got there with the results of the blood work he did. Rose and David kept watch of the kids at home, Ski didn't want her at the Clinic which raised my suspicions even higher.

I know it had to have been Scott that did it. I remember him handing me a cup of juice and then the next thing I remember is kind of waking up on a cot in the waiting room. But I wasn't all the way awake, I couldn't open my eyes. I heard Ski and Scott talking in hallway and once I had heard it I fell back to sleep against my will no matter how anxious I was.

 _Scott asked, "How sure are you?"_

 _Ski answered, "It was one of the things I suspected from the outset but when things went downhill so fast I called over Chad and it was one of the first things out of his mouth as well. Neither one of us wanted to be wrong about it so Chad took some blood and he'll bring the results with him as soon as he comes over tomorrow but it doesn't look good Scott. Every symptom is pointing that direction. Chad said the initial tests he did only confirmed what we suspected from the other symptoms."_

 _"_ _You know this is going to kill my wife?" I heard Scott whisper._

 _"_ _What about you? Are you doing OK?"_

 _"_ _Hell no. That's a dumb ass ques … sorry. I'm already messed up thinking about what is coming."_

 _"_ _Don't worry about it man. You won't be alone in this. This is going to be a shock for everyone. It's going to make them think if nothing else ..."_

And with that I was completely out again.

There are things in life that you never really contemplate having to face. Not really. You may be able to academically be able to wrap your head around an idea but truly internalizing it is impossible … not until you are actually faced with it. We've already gone through so many trials. We watched as friends and family succumbed to what life has thrown at us in the form of NRS. We've faced the aftermath of a complete breakdown in the infrastructure we relied on for our day to day wants and needs. We struggle every day to rebuild a semblance of that infrastructure while at the same time providing ourselves with a certain level of security that transcends even what we had pre-NRS. I believe that we've become hardened but not heartless, but it is a close thing on some days.

I've faced my own mortality enough times to believe that if it comes down to it I'll do and accept what is necessary without a whimper or whine. I've even, to a certain extent, come to accept the mortality of Scott. I'm not comfortable with it, I'll fight it tooth and nail with everything I have within me, but I recognize the reality of it. But the mortality of my children … blood of my blood or adopted in spirit … is something that I will not accept with simple equanimity. I cannot simply sit back and …

I guess I need to start over; I was starting to feel a little crazy there. I woke up before the sun and went to check on Bubby as quickly as I could get my lethargic muscles to respond. Scott was sitting in a chair in a half doze but woke up completely when I rushed in. He was prepared for a fight I guess but I wasn't in the mood to give him one, at least not the one he expected.

 _"_ _I heard you and Ski talking last night. I want to know exactly what is suspected and stop trying to keep it from me," I said forestalling him trying to distract me with an argument regarding the doped fruit juice he gave me._

 _"_ _When Chad gets here …"_

 _"_ _No. Now. You know. Now I'm going to know. Keeping this from me is unconscionable."_

Scott and I were in a stare down contest when Chad showed up. Scott and I still haven't settled things. I resent like hell him (and Waleski and Chad too) keeping this from me. Yes, I feel like I've been slapped around by God and man at this point but what they did was still wrong. I feel like I'm not trusted and in return I'm not sure how far I can trust them to be totally honest we me either. That hurts enough that I can feel it through the other hurt that I'm already feeling.

Chad checked over Bubby as soon as he came in. Scott stood on one side of the room, me on the other. I was trying to focus on what was happening but it already felt as if my heart was breaking.

Chad said, "It looks like he is sleeping peacefully. We need to talk. Let's go out in the waiting area."

"OK, it sounds like you three obviously know or suspect something and it's bad. I want to know what and how bad. And I think it is just better that you don't sugar coat it. I need to know what we are looking at and what we can do about it." I said as soon as we had left the room.

"Sissy, you need to sit down and you need to listen to me," Chad said trying to gently take control of the conversation.

"I can stand. It helps me to work off … " I didn't get far before Scott unceremoniously parked me in a chair and then sat beside me and put his arm around me to keep me from going any place. Or it was for comfort. It could have been either.

"Ski and I didn't say anything before now because we weren't sure. Even once we became reasonably sure there was still enough doubt that to get this wrong would have been untenable. But when we add all of the symptoms up and Bubby's age, the diagnosis is all but inescapable now."

All I could do was look at him and wait for the other shoe to drop.

"The unexplained fevers and chills that were helped with antibiotics. Some flu-like symptoms like aches and pains. Then the symptoms of anemia. The listlessness. The nausea. Lack of appetite and weight loss. The seizures. Now the petechiae and the swollen lymph nodes. Those were the physical symptoms we could see. The blood work I was able to do showed a severe lack of platelets. Those are the blood cells that help stop bleeding. I wasn't really one hundred percent sure until yesterday when I was able to get a good slide of the white blood cells."

Chad took a deep breath and continued, "Its leukemia. I can't say for sure which kind it is but given Bubby's age it is likely Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia or ALL. It is in an advanced stage. And there isn't a damn thing I can do to fix this."

I just sat there, trapped by Scott's arm and by the stares of all three men. I suspect they were waiting for me to erupt, get hysterical, get angry … something. Scott has often called me perverse when we argue. That's a polite way of saying that I don't fight fair. I rarely react the way he expects me to. My dad was the same way. Growing up, before he "got religion" he used to say things like, "to win an argument you don't have the high ground on you throw a sink when they expect a feather and throw a feather when they are expecting a sink." Part of it is that my personality is, for better or worse, a lot like Daddy's was. He was much more self-contained than me though. I internalize things quite often; Daddy did it 99% of the time, that and smoking is probably what led to his heart problems.

It was Daddy that explained to me that our tempers could hurt people. He sowed his wild oats but once he met Momma when they were both so young he got balanced out; and because Momma was such a gentle soul and he was so in love with her … it … tamed him I guess you could say. His brother, my uncle, wasn't so lucky and made a mess of his life that never did get fixed. His father was the same way and in a sense it was a good thing that the man died in a railroad accident when my dad was a little boy. Hardly any girls in the family ever turned out like me – they were "normal" or at least didn't go chasing whatever fast times were available to them; I was a match for all my male cousins and they treated me with more respect than the rest of the girls (or at least I remember it that way). I wasn't wild, but they knew not to mess with me and I could hold my own against them.

My own brother was more like our Momma than I am even now. My brother could be wild but only when someone had hurt him. He was like Daddy without the temper; sometimes I used to wonder if that was what was wrong with him. He was soft hearted like Momma but didn't have the self-preservation he needed to keep the hurt from eating him alive sometimes.

I guess that was one of the reasons that Daddy and I got along so well once I had become an adult and had our tangles when I was a teen. It isn't that I was a bad kid. Luckily I never felt the need to do all of that experimentation with stuff my friends found fascinating; my brother sowed his own wild oats following the crowd yet Daddy seem to take that OK since he was a boy I suppose. Plus my dad had both boots firmly planted on the side of a line we knew not to cross. It always seemed he was harder on me than on Brother, but I guess he felt he had reason. He was always pushing me to be more like Momma. I wanted to be but at the same time I didn't … the "didn't" won out in the end.

I guess at some point Daddy must have figured out that I was his shadow in more ways than one. For a while he even suggested that I would do well to go into the military. You don't often hear of men pushing their daughters that direction. I had been intrigued with the idea of the military for a while but once I met Scott all of that flew right out of my head. I can still remember the day when I was sixteen and Brother and I had nearly come to blows over some stupid stunt he had pulled with a couple of his friends. I was right, he was wrong … but Daddy explained I had handled it wrong. Daddy took me aside and explained that a lot of people in his family ruined their lives because they lacked self control. It was one of the reasons he had us move away from most of them in the guise of being stationed in Florida while they all stayed back in Kentucky and Tennessee.

Daddy lectured me off and on ad nauseum for the next several months on this issue, enough that sometimes that alone is why Daddy and I would get in an argument. I still say Daddy could be too self-contained. I see it in Rose. You hold things inside too much and no good comes of it.

I'm trying to explain to myself why I reacted like I did but I don't know if there is a whole lot of true reason to it. I know why I am like I am. And I know the dangers and how to act and not act. I know what sets me off and what to avoid. But there are times that I just don't give a rat's behind.

In a voice calm enough that Ski admitted was scary I asked, "Explain, 'can't fix.'"

Chad answered, "Sissy, if this was pre-NRS we would prescribe systemic chemotherapy and drugs that would address the symptoms and any complications from the treatment or the leukemia itself. Even if we did have the chemicals to prescribe, all of those drugs have to be calibrated on an individual basis by a specialist using equipment we may have but can't run. I had Steve and Dave crawling all through both the Children's Hospital and Moffitt Center on USF's campus but most of that stuff has been destroyed or is simply gone. I've looked Sissy; even drove to the other side of town trying to see what was left of St. Joe's Childrens Hospital. I radioed out to other doctors. Even out in the Free Zones they are faced with the same thing. The infrastructure and manufacturing capacity we used to have to create these drugs is gone and might not be coming back for a while. It isn't just leukemia - its insulin, high blood pressure medications, antibiotics of all types, birth control pills … all of it is gone right now."

Waleski chimed in, "I've looked through all of the natural and homeopathic volumes I've been able to find. We can treat symptoms but the cancer itself is out of our hands."

I had known all of this stuff intellectually. My parents are gone because their meds disappeared. I got the concept. Applying it to my little boy was a different matter. Pre-NRS leukemia was 80 to 90% curable in children. If they remained in remission for five years they could be considered "cured." But now, because of NRS and our ability to control and contain it before it tore the world apart I was hearing that my boy had a death sentence.

"How bad is he going to get? And don't look at me like that I understand what you are saying. How bad is he going to get before he dies? What quality of life can we give him?" I asked trying really hard not to kill the messenger. I remember wanting to scratch Chad's eyes out.

Chad sat back in the chair and responded, "Sissy, if I … "

Part of me could see how hard this was for Chad. He had been a doctor in training when the manure hit the fan. He and Ski both were learning as they went with very little in the way of mentors. The way he handled this would affect him as much as it would affect Scott and I. On the other hand I could feel myself become impatient. I had asked a question and I wanted an answer.

After an audible swallow Chad leaned forward again and continued, "The symptoms that Bubby is experiencing and how fast they are occurring leads me to believe that this may not be his first round of cancer. This is all hypothesis and Bubby is too young to communicate very linearly. I confirmed with Ski that the little boy you call Bubby and a little girl you call Sis were found in the same building as a few other survivors on the USF campus. I spoke with Patricia and she said people from all over campus were brought there. During the attacks some people tried to escape, some successful and some not. No sign of any adult supervision was from with either child, am I correct?"

At my affirmative answer he continued, "Here's my hypothesis and it is worth absolutely nothing. Bubby and Sis look enough alike that they may be siblings. They share quite a few similarities including eye, skin tone, and hair color as well as some bone structure. Whatever sequence of events it is possible that Bubby was in treatment or had been treated at Moffitt Center or the Children's Hospital at USF. A few things tell me he was at least familiar with it … he recognized the Moffitt logo and called it 'Mo's Place.' He also seems familiar with clinical exams and you'll remember that while he cried when we drew his blood the other day he also knew exactly what to do like balling his fist and holding still. Most kids would be doing everything else but that to get away from the needle."

"So, he was either treated or being treated for leukemia … I'm going with treated and was on follow up since it has taken so long for these symptoms to manifest themselves."

Scott and I could only sit there and listen. Waleski must have heard all of this at some point because he didn't look surprised. I asked, "So how does knowing that … or hypothesizing that … help us to help him."

"It doesn't," he sighed. "Not really. What it does do however is give me some idea of how fast the cancer will debilitate him and how quickly we will need to have comfort care available for him. At the most he will have twelve months and that is assuming no complications."

I figured that. I wanted to scream at them "I'm not stupid! I know that! Tell me what is mostly likely!"

Ski then picked it up. "Sissy, I already told Scott … and I know you are angry about that but I'm doing the best I can here … these seizures cause us to believe that Bubby's leukemia is advanced, very advanced. The seizures are likely being caused by leukocytes that have made it to the spinal fluid and brain. The seizures are only going to get worse because we can treat the symptoms but not the root cause. How quickly his symptoms worsen we can't say. And before you ask we don't have enough data to even guess. It may not be the leukemia that actually kills him, but the collateral damage from complications."

There, someone had finally said it. The leukemia was going to kill Bubby. I needed to hear someone finally just say it out loud. It took some effort but I shrugged off Scott's arm and stood up and walked back into Bubby's room and sat down.

I know I cried a little bit but it wasn't the big noisy crying that would have helped me to clean my psyche out, that would have been too close to losing control.

I'm angry. There isn't anyone to be angry about as far as the leukemia goes. It is what it is. There is a part of me that I've got locked away right now … my father's daughter … that is kicking and screaming and thinking about all the ways that I would like to lash out but the lock on that room I shoved her into is pretty strong and I'm doing what I can to reinforce it. It's insane but my faith has almost already helped me to understand that Bubby is just a fleeting physical Blessing that was brought into my life and that I learned lots of lessons to take with me forever. So long as I remember him he'll never truly be gone. Like my parents. Like my brother and nephews.

What isn't acceptable, what I can't and won't … I won't be treated that way. It was disrespectful. It made me out to be something small and undependable … after all that I've done to prove myself over the last few months. How could they do that? How could he do that?! I keep trying to reassert my rational side. He was doing it to protect me; he wasn't doing it to hurt me. But dammit it did hurt and I didn't need one more hurt cutting me to my soul.

Now who am I supposed to go to when I need support? Will every request for support make him/them think I'm that much weaker? How the hell am I supposed to get through this by myself? I'm not even going to go into the platitudes I heard today after everyone found out. I was trying to comfort the kids; especially Johnnie who barely understands but yet understands enough to break his little heart. Trying to explain to Bubby that he is sick and yet I'm sure that this last seizure must have done something because some spark is missing, like he already has one foot in the grave. The only one that seemed to really get it was Dante' and he didn't say a single word just came by and sat for a while.

I wish I could just disappear for a while but Bubby needs me and Johnnie needs me and the other kids need me. All of them – even Padric – keep needing to touch me and be touched by me like I'm some lodestone. Scott and I keep circling each other. We're here but not touching. The children are between us so we are still connected but it isn't directly. Again my rational side says, "Warning! Warning! Danger Will Robinson!" I know this is bad but at the same time I can't seem to stop. My father's daughter screams, "When I needed you to trust me the most you let me down!" If I'm going to salvage anything from this I have to keep her silent but I've got to vent her off soon too. If I don't I'll explode and God only knows what I could destroy in the process.

I guess I'll just sit out here on the lanai for a …

No breaks. No breaks. Here come the zombies and there is a bunch of them. Maybe I'll vent my spleen on them and it will be enough.


	246. Day 290

_**Day 290 (Thursday) – May 16**_

You always want to know "why" when bad things happen but so often the question is either the last one answered or never answered, at least not to your satisfaction.

I've been drifting in and out the last couple of days. Sanctuary has carried on without me, like it should; for all my over-sized self esteem I'm a cog in a wheel and right now I'm really grateful not to be "indispensable." I know I've got responsibilities and other children but the idea of leaving Bubby (and Johnnie since he won't leave Bubby without throwing a hysterical fit) makes me feel like I am forsaking them in some way right when they need me most. So here I am, sitting in the Clinic writing this journal entry by hand because the typewriter is too noisy. Tomorrow will be different however.

It's been a couple of days since I wrote anything in my journal. That last night – it was Monday – we got the horde that had surrounded OSAG Sunday night. I was so furious at that point. I just wanted to destroy something; rend, tear, stab, vaporize an enemy. I went to the Wall but I found out the object was to just wait them out. If the horde had been a little smaller we might have sanitized them all but there was between 150 and 200 of the walking corpses. I got the concept and understood why but it didn't help my disposition any. I decided to take part in the groups that patrol the inside of the Wall to make sure no incursions are taking place.

I wasn't up for people but rules prohibit anyone from going without a partner on jobs like this. I wound up picking up James, not that I had any choice. It was either James or one of the younger kids and I just wasn't able to handle the questions that would likely have arisen. As it was while we patrolled the animal enclosure I had to explain in detail what was going on.

Then James wanted to know, _"What is up with you and Dad?"_

 _Argh! "James we are just both very stressed out. My hear literally hurts over this. It's not being able to do anything to fix things and not having the answers we need."_

 _"_ _No it's not. I mean it is, but that isn't all. I can tell. Did you and Dad have a fight?"_

 _"_ _James … "_

 _"_ _Mom, I'm not a little kid anymore; when are you going to stop treating me like one? I'm not being nosy but don't you think you should at least let either Rose or I in on what is going on so we can keep the little kids from putting their foot in it or something and making a bad situation worse?"_

That gave me pause. I've never wanted to put my kids in the position of having to run interference between Scott and I. We keep the kids out of it for the most part when we are having a disagreement but there was a time when we weren't as careful, especially when Rose and James were little. I guess we'll pay for that the rest of our lives.

 _"_ _Look son, it's really hard to explain. I'm doing my best to treat you like an adult when I say this so please hear me. I just can't talk about it right now. I'm hurting. Your dad is hurting. We have to focus on Bubby right now and Johnnie isn't taking this well at all. None of us are. The rest of it is just background noise and I don't have the energy or desire to deal with it. I'm too angry and when I'm angry I say things that I regret later and do things that are hurtful to myself and others. Just let it go, OK?"_

He didn't want to hear that so I was stuck trying to hold my temper and my tongue while he tried several different tactics to make me talk. I guess looking back it was the shoe on the other foot and a case of the boy definitely being his mother's son.

We were on our third circuit of the animal area when we heard the distinct "ping" of a piece of metal giving way on the side of the enclosure that is shared by skunkworks. That put us in motion.

We pushed through the small gate that separated the animal area from the rest of Sanctuary and grabbed Dix just before he ascended one of the staircases to the top of the Wall. If zombies get into the skunkworks area they can't access Sanctuary that way but they can make a mess of what is being built in there … not that most of us are actually supposed to know what goes on in there. I'm really only guessing but I'm sure they don't want to just having guns go off willy-nilly inside there.

The skunkworks was designed to be a temporary space so the gate and wall sections that seal it off aren't as sturdy. The gate in particular isn't the greatest comparatively speaking. It turned out after later inspection the next day that the "ping" we heard was some of the barbed wire popping from the pressure of so many corpses pushing against it.

I went down into the skunkworks with Dix and Angus as everyone else was busy; Dix positioned James back on the Wall in case he needed a sharp shooter. I don't even think Dix realized I was there until Angus turned to help me over some cordage that had been left on the ground that I nearly tripped over. Dix looked at Angus and Angus looked at Dix as if to say, "You going to be the one to send her back?"

I think the idea was just to keep me on the side lines but while they looked for something to get rid of the zombies that were getting hung up in the gate I stepped around them, hauled out my new e-nep and shaved off any limbs that stuck on our side of the fencing. Since zombies don't have active pain receptors the corpses didn't really react as their limbs were lopped off but most of them, once they had been "un-stuck" from the barbs in the fencing, moved off. While I was doing it I remember having the thought that it wasn't much different than trimming a hedge, that's how smooth the e-nep dealt with flesh and bone. I know that is callous and not a little bit gross but that was my state of mind and also how we've had to come to think of the zombies … "cord wood" as Stephen King put forward. It's what keeps us sane.

Sometime between three and four a.m. the infecteds began wandering to the northwest again. I wish we knew what drove the movements of the zombies. I only have one calendar of tidal predictions left and it said that moonset was at 4:02 a.m. at Anclote Key outside of Tarpon Springs … close enough that it is worth tracking the zombies to see if they are affected by the phases of the moon at all. I mentioned it and a couple of people looked at me like my head was on backwards but I didn't (and don't) care whether they think I'm crazy or not. I think it is a possibility worth investigating more.

I went back to the Clinic and was in time to see Melody getting off duty and Rose coming on. Melody had been crying. She tried to put it off as hormones but then she really busted down and I held her and let it run its course. She lived with Scott and I long enough that we had all but adopted her. I'm sure she is scared for her baby's future and for Trent and Belle too. There is nothing like a big slap by reality to jerk a knot in the tail of all your fantasies that things are going to be alright and that you've got everything under control.

It is hard on all of us to keep having these adjustment reactions to all of the things that we've lost. Now here is one more thing that was practically curable pre-NRS that has returned to being a death sentence.

Rose did her fair share of crying too and so I comforted her the best I could as well. I wasn't able to cry very much and a part of me knows the few tears that did roll down my face were alligator tears just dredged up for the girls' benefit. The tears were more about the girls crying than crying from my own emotions; I can recognize that now.

I did find out from Rose that Scott had been around looking for me and had a tiff with James when he found out I'd been on patrol with James rather than with him. Angus must have calmed Scott down some however as Tuesday after breakfast I saw them head out together to lay out more lines for the towers on the east side of the curtain wall. After all, nothing must stop the construction. The whole thing is a little too _Rose Red_ for me right now.

Over breakfast Scott and I got more platitudes from the folks that showed up from Aldea to help with construction and to help with the garden. I don't mean that in a bad way. I know they really are trying to be sympathetic. Maybe one day I'll even go back and read this journal and want to slap myself for being this way. Right now though everything feels like acid against my psyche. I know how inevitable it is for Bubby to pass and one day I may even be grateful that he has passed beyond what is obviously going to be a horrible trial. There is going to be pain. Chad explained that to us. He's exact words were, "How he is feeling now is probably the best he is ever going to feel again. We'll try and create a pain management plan that meets his needs but it's going to be striking a balance between the pain medication totally doping him up and trying to continue to give him a decent quality of life."

Yeah, that was so not comforting. I know they were saying they would do their best under poor conditions. I also know that Scott and I need to know what we are going to be facing, what Bubby is going to be going through. This is just all so hard.

Tuesday I was mostly at the Clinic. People would come and go but Rilla shooed most of them off. I'm sure I dozed off and on after the sleepless night. Scott and I even sat in there together though "together" was only in the physical sense. It was hard to playact for the boys that everything was alright. What made it worse was that we could tell that Bubby really wasn't well at all. At that point we weren't sure whether it was the leukemia, the seizure, or if he was suffering from an undiagnosed infection as he had before.

That was our Tuesday. Me in the Clinic, Scott in and out but otherwise trying to continue work on the curtain wall so that construction didn't fall behind. Rose and David thankfully taking up the slack with the kids at home. Scott and I both sleeping on mats in Bubby's room at the Clinic while Johnnie took turns sleeping with us and in Bubby's bed with him.

Wednesday started out much the same way. I was little more than an animaton at that point; there but not there. I was focused on the boys. At lunch I stepped out to go to the outhouse and I was just buckling up when I heard Johnnie's shriek. Sound carries these days when all the mechanical noise has pretty much disappeared. Maybe if the construction equipment had been running I wouldn't have heard him but everyone had stopped for lunch. As it was the shriek nearly stopped my heart it was so loud. I nearly tripped over my own feet getting out of the port-o-potty and back to the Clinic.

Scott was closer and as I was trying to barrel in he was coming out with Johnnie in his arms crying and in hysterics.

Scott put Johnnie in my arms and ran back inside. Johnnie had blood all over him and my heart nearly stopped. I hit the ground right there and started looking for where the blood was coming from. That was when Rilla ran out with some soap and damp rags.

"Bubby had another seizure. I think he bit his tongue and he also banged his head pretty hard. Johnnie here was trying to help weren't you buddy," Rilla told me as she talked over Johnnie's head, trying to calm us both I think.

The seizure was violent and lasted for nearly ten minutes. The rest of Wednesday was a blur.

I must have slept at some point during the night because I closed my eyes for just a second trying to fake Johnnie out and get him to sleep and then next thing I remember is waking up because a sunbeam was on my face. I startled awake and in the process woke up Johnnie who had become so distraught overnight that he had wet himself and me too. He hadn't had an accident since he was three and this just made him more miserable.

When I ascertained that Bubby was still sleeping I tried to take Johnnie home to bathe and change him and myself but he wasn't having any of it. Rilla finally helped me by bringing over a small tub so I could bathe both boys – Bubby never woke up – and Rose brought over clean clothes for him. Ski doctored a little warm milk with a very mild sedative and Johnnie was soon asleep again. Rose and Melody both promised to watch the boys while I went and cleaned up.

I got back to the house to find that Charlene had the younger kids doing their lessons while the older ones were off doing their chores. James was on his way out.

"Don't you want to know where dad is?" he asked.

"He's working on the curtain wall," I responded.

"Yeah. But … ," then he just shrugged and left to go do whatever it was he was scheduled to do.

I washed and changed as quickly as I could and gave everyone a kiss and answered their questions as I hurried out the door. I know they needed more but at that moment I didn't think I had more to give.

I heard the crews from Aldea out in the garden so I decided to go the long way around and try and avoid having to talk to anyone else. I was almost out of the bushes next to the canal when I ran smack into an oversized Viking.

"You need to talk to Scott," Angus' base voice rumbled at me.

"I'll talk to him a bit," I said as I tried to brush by him.

"You need to talk to him now. He's killing himself," he told me, refusing to let me pass.

"Dammit Angus. I need to get back to the Clinic. Enough with the marriage counseling already."

"Oh, so we're gonna be that way are we?" Angus said while he looked down at me, still refusing to let me pass.

"Angus, I know you mean well but I'm just not … I can't … look, I just can't right now. OK?" I grumbled wondering why Angus always managed to know which of my buttons to push and when. I can't stand for people to rub my size in my face.

"Too bad. You two are not doing yourselves any favors. I woulda got Scott drunk if I thought it woulda helped. But at the rate he's going it'll just make things worse. He's puked up every bite he's eat. I don't know if he's slept more than a few hours the last couple of days but he's put in double hours out in that damn mosquito infested, hot hell hole where the new curtain wall is going in. What have you got to say to that missy?" Angus growled.

"I told you I don't want to talk right now Angus. I need to go to the Clinic!" I said beginning to get fired up.

"Look you. This whole business … it's about to rip my heart out so I know you and Scott must be hurting worse. But, you can't stop that boy from dying. It's going to happen. We all have to live with that. But if you don't get off your ass and talk to your husband you're gonna wind up losing him too. Is that what you really want?" Angus asked, giving me no quarter.

"You're exaggerating … " I started.

"Hell no I'm not. He's over there hacking away at a pile of wood. Most of the other guys are too embarrassed scared or some other shit to even go near him. He's coming unglued Sissy. I talked to him. He knows he messed up and he is beating himself up about that too. Cut him some slack. Some men are like that. He's also the kind of man that can't help himself unless he's helping someone else in the process."

I tried shaking my head but wound up being shaken by Angus instead.

"Girly, I swear you are the damndest, hard headedest … Scott needs you to need him. He ain't no good otherwise. You cut him off. And stop the face already, I ain't talking about sex. You cut him off from comforting you. That's the only thing that is going to bring him any comfort. How long you gonna make him pay? He made a mistake, but he was trying to protect you. You want him dead of a heart attack? 'Cause at this rate that ain't gonna be long in coming."

I simply did not want to hear what Angus was saying. If I had had something to throw at him I would have I was just that mad. Looking back I know I wasn't being reasonable. I know I felt a little crazy so I was probably a lot crazy. Looking back I also realize that Angus was making me angry on purpose, trying to crack the wall I had build around my emotions and heart while trying to keep the hurt and pain out. He's lucky I didn't haul off and kick him in his bad knee; I was in that nasty a mood.

"Fine, you want to know what I don't want to talk to him?! Well here it is. He didn't just 'make a mistake,' he shut me out and shut me down. That says that he doesn't trust me. That he can't rely on me. That's a hell of a thing to find out right now dontcha think?! Right when we need to be able to count on each other the most I find out we apparently can't count on each other at all!" I hissed at him.

"Baby girl, you need to listen. I know you are mad and I know you are hurting. Hell, in your shoes I'd feel the same. But … " And that's when I got a look at something that I think Angus might not share with many people. "Look, you got a chance here to fix this and it is slipping away from you. You don't grab this chance you are going to pay worse than you ever thought possible. Don't ask me how I know but I do. And you and me both know you don't always get a second chance. It's up to you. You're gonna have to be the one. Scott's too messed up and blaming himself. He ain't thinking straight. He thinks this is what you want."

At that point I honestly wasn't for sure what I was going to do. But my feet must have made up my mind for me because I found myself moving … no small thanks to a less than gentle push by Angus … in the direction of the big wood pile.

We have trails cut through to all the places of importance inside the Wall. The problem is this time of year the heat and the rain have the plants growing faster than we have the manpower to keep in check. The trails, once clean and wide, now had tall weeds and bushes pushing in from the side.

I crept through the green mess, wiping sweat from my forehead and upper lip, swatting at the mosquitoes and other annoying flying insects that were dive bombing all of my exposed skin. Abruptly the path emptied out into a wide place where we were stacking all of the fallen wood the kids gathered as well as the trees that we were thinning as the foundations for the curtain wall was being cut and laid.

Scott didn't know I was there. He was too busy hacking at a big log that would have been better cut by a chainsaw. Angus was right. For the first time in a couple of days I really looked at Scott. Even from across the clearing I could tell he'd lost weight. The t-shirt he wore hadn't flapped that way last week. His hair stuck every which way and he had a heavy beard where he hadn't shaved for a couple of days. He had dark bags under sunken eyes, sure signs of dehydration.

I was just standing there watching the whirling dervish whack away at the wood when he looked up and caught sight of me. He was swinging up then lost his footing. The ax was flung behind him and Scott tripped and went down hard; I could hear his teeth clack together.

I don't know why I propelled myself over to his side but I did; habit, natural concern … I wasn't really thinking. But once I was there it just felt more natural to put my arms around him than to scold him for working so hard in the heat. And then his arms came around me. And then we were both crying.

We've still got some talking to do. We were both wrong. Maybe if it hadn't involved one of our kids we could have handled the situation better, more quickly, but we didn't. We aren't perfect. We can't let things go this way anymore. Communication is a must between two people like us. When the communication goes everything else will follow.

I got him up and we walked back to the Clinic together. For once Waleski didn't scold for doing something stupid or crazy. Rilla is good for him that way; she'll catch social cues that will completely pass him by. I washed Scott up in the same tub I had the boys, pouring water over his head with a pitcher to cool him down. I also got him to drink some homemade Gatorade to get his electrolytes balanced.

Rose ran home to get Scott some clean clothes for her dad but James brought them when she walked back. They both didn't know whether to grin or not. It was still a somber time but they were obviously relieved that Scott and I were mending things. Nearly as soon as Scott got cooled down and dressed he was out like a light. He slept beside Johnnie on the pallet we had put together.

Word must have gotten out. No worse gossips than small town people and that's about what Sanctuary is, a small town. Dante' came by. Again, he didn't say much, but he didn't need to. All he said was, "I'm glad. Coulda turned out … the other way." I knew he was thinking of his and Tina's situation.

People filed by in ones and twos like they needed to see it to believe it. I finally moved out onto the porch to keep too many from traipsing into the Clinic. People just wanted to express their feelings. I still find myself overwhelmed by that sometimes but it doesn't feel like an attack any more. Scott and Johnnie both woke up and as soon as I thought about them needing to eat I realized I hadn't eaten since the previous day either.

Charlene and James walked up with some lunch for us and Scott and I sat and fed Johnnie because he was reverting to acting the same way he had when we had come out of the attic. Bubby finally woke up and I was able to feed him some broth and a smoothie made with yogurt and pureed fruit. He recognized us but he was definitely fuzzy. The fuzziness was from the seizure but it was also from the small dose of pain meds that Chad prescribed after he had come by to check on Bubby's status.

Chad hadn't simply given his diagnosis and then left. Apparently he had been reading up on the cancer. As much as Scott and I didn't want to hear what he told us we needed to. We had to be prepared. Untreated acute leukemia usually brings death within three months of diagnosis or symptom onset, whichever comes first. Bubby had been having symptoms about a month that we are aware of, with children it is sometimes difficult to tell. Chad was also going on the hypothesis that this was a recurrence which shaved more time off of how long we had left with him.

"Assuming no complications. Assuming no major infections. Assuming we can address all of the 'normal' symptoms. Those are a lot of assumptions. H is seizures have increased in frequency and severity which means the neural system is fully involved. That's never a good symptom. The seizures are what we have to watch for right now. Sissy, Scott, you both wanted me to be upfront about this. I'm not going to sugar coat it. My prognosis for Bubby isn't good. At best I believe he only has six to eight weeks, but truthfully we are probably looking at less than that, maybe a lot less than that, maybe only days."

Of all the shocks Scott and I had faced the last few days, even knowing how bleak the situation was, hearing that we could literally only have hours left with Bubby was devastating. After Chad left we gathered the kids and explained things the best we could. The older ones understood, the younger ones didn't really but knew that things were bad. They understood loss and understood "going away and not coming back." Everyone cried but they didn't cry quite so hard as they had when we told them originally. It was sinking in.

Dix has set up a pair of dedicated hand helds for Scott and I to use. One of us will be with him at all times. We had put some consideration into bringing him home but the danger is too high that he could pass away in his sleep and … well, we can't just take that Dr. Jager's word on it. Much like a DNR order, Scott and I have told Ski and Chad both that as soon as Bubby passes we won't to make sure NRS doesn't resurrect his body and cause even more pain.

Scott really did do a number on himself so tonight he is sleeping at home. The kids need to see him I think. Tomorrow, regardless of what Johnnie wants he will be sleeping at home from now on. We'll play it by ear as far as how much time he spends with Bubby. We need to try and get a little separation going so that Johnnie isn't so traumatized when Bubby passes … it's going to be bad enough as it is.

Thank God for Rose and Charlene … Sarah and Bekah as well. Kitty was fed and watered and cared for as well as the rest of the kids. Betty and Reba made sure that all of my kitchen duty was covered. Patricia and Rhonda did all of our laundry and I didn't even find that out until tonight. Dix talked to Matlock and Glenn and they are going to make sure the building crews run steady. Jim and Angus are going to keep an eye on Scott and take over whatever he is doing in case he gets an emergency call or if they see him doing too much. Those two along with Glenn and Dix are probably the only ones that he wouldn't get too hard headed with.

After Scott went to bed, I got Johnnie down for the night, and everything got quiet in our little corner of the world I went outside to look at the stars while Ski and Melody took Bubby's vitals one more time. Angus walked up. "Heard. We ain't going to have the little boy long."

"No," I whispered on the verge of tears again.

"You OK?"

"I suppose I will be, eventually. You know what I believe."

"Yeah. You and Scott work things out?"

"Getting there. Thanks for the kick in the backside."

"No problem. Do it again if you need it."

I gave a rather watery chuckle then gave the big Viking a hug that he wasn't expecting. He patted my shoulder and I patted his and he walked off into the night with Huey, Dewey, and Louie for once behaving like they ought to. Then I came inside and wrote this all out.

I still don't have a reason for why things are happening the way they are. I'm still wondering when will the losses be over with. When will death leave us alone? I rail against fate and scream this isn't fair but it wouldn't change a thing. All we can do is take it day by day and do our best and just accept that sometimes our best just isn't going to be good enough.


	247. Day 291

_**Day 291 (Friday) – May 17**_

Oh man. Looking at my calendar I just realized I passed Momma's birthday without even thinking about it. It was the 14th. Part of me wonders what kind of daughter that makes me and part of me realizes that under the circumstances Momma wouldn't have minded even had she been alive. Still, it's just another strand of guilt that I'm going to have to sit down and untangle one of these days. I'll mention it to Scott tomorrow but I'm not going to say anything to the kids. Things are hard enough on them as it is.

Bubby has been stable today, Johnnie not so much. Bubby has started bruising so easily that Chad thought it best to insert a pic line directly into the vein and leave it there. They can administer meds through the line rather than having to constantly poke him and traumatize him further. Bubby is having localized seizures where he just "goes away" but doesn't show any other symptoms than a blank stare and one hand that curls into a fist. He hasn't had the other kind of seizure today at all which is encouraging.

While Bubby is now stable Johnnie has just been … very similar to the shock when we were stuck up in the attic. He's getting too big to be carried but it is almost easier to walk if we do. He is practically wrapped around one of us at all times. He wants to be with either Scott or I but he'll also go with Rose, James, or Sarah. Well, he'll got to Rose if she isn't wearing her Clinic smock. And we have to watch him all the time or he tries to sneak off to the Clinic to see Bubby.

We finally got him to stop this when we told them it wasn't helping Bubby that Bubby wouldn't take his naps like he was supposed to. That isn't technically accurate but it is something that Johnnie will understand so we are leaving the explanation at that.

Bubby won't eat anything solid; he says that it "feels funny in his tummy." I'm doing what I can by giving him broth and yogurt smoothies. The other thing he was complaining about today was a bad headache that increased with each local seizure. Dora came by today and she had made Bubby this pillow that had dried herbs in it mixed with this little plastic pellets. She warmed it just a little and then Bubby laid his neck back on it. It eased him quite a bit and then Mi-Sook, the young Korean woman that Conrad has taken up with, came and offered some homemade incense made of lavender and when this was burned even I relaxed a bit. You could see the wheels turning in Ski's head so I know he'll be hitting up these two new sources of alternative healing.

When Scott came to take his turn Bubby wanted to play and then became cranky very quickly when he ran out of energy without even leaving the bed. Scott played cars with him on top of the bed covers until Bubby fell back to sleep. Saen was there to pull me out and had a glass of Thai Iced Tea that she stood there and made me drink. It was made of tea leaves, sugar, evaporated milk and water to thin it out a bit all poured over crushed ice. It was a real pick me up in the hot, stick weather that seems to have settled in.

She had me out walking in the gardens and brought me up-to-date on everything that had been going on. I don't think she or Glenn will ever know how grateful I am that she took this over. Reba can't; she has too much work to do to do the milking and all that accompanies that work. Mr. Morris helps but he's slowing down and even I notice it. Betty is keeping everyone fed. The other women help of course but they all have babies or very little ones.

Dante' caught up with us and got me to help him name the different varieties that were being harvested. I have the rows numbered and those number correspond to a garden plan that I keep in a notebook but Saen didn't know where it was. She was able to track how much of what came out of each row and she gave that to Dante' while I provided varieties.

Here are the things that have been harvested: Amarillo Oro melons, Ananas melons, Casaba melons, White Crenshaw melons, Giant beefsteak tomatoes, Hungarian sweet wax peppers, Marconi red sweet peppers, red cherry sweet peppers, Anaheim chili hot peppers, black Hungarian hot peppers, cubanelle hot peppers, jalapeno hot peppers, purple tiger hot peppers, scotch bonnet yellow hot peppers, diamond eggplants, Rosa Bianca eggplants, charentais melons, black mountain watermelons, bush sugar baby watermelons, cushaw winter squash, Cherokee pole beans, lazy wife pole beans, jacob's cattle dry beans, soldier dry beans, agate soybeans, shirofumi soybeans, blue hopi corn, banana legs tomatoes, Hickory King heirloom corn, Squaw Corn heirloom, Lady Finger popcorn, South American popcorn, gold self-blanching celery, purple hull peas, California wonder green bell peppers, California wonder yellow bell peppers, California wonder purple bell peppers, sunbright bell peppers, Caribbean red hot peppers, el chaco hot peppers, Jamaican red hot peppers, cayenne peppers, pepperoncini hot peppers, and Serrano hot peppers.

The problem is that most of this stuff is just sitting in the Cooler waiting for someone to do something with it. I was sitting here with the list in my lap and trying to stay focused on coming up with a work plan for tomorrow when I decided to put it down for a while and type. Scott is over at the Clinic and I'm sitting on the lanai trying to get rid of enough of my tension to go to sleep.

Tomorrow is Saturday and Charlene has said that she is willing to organize what can be organized with Maddie to help her if Betty is nearby in case they have questions. I've already talked to Betty and that isn't a problem at all. Reba said she will be in the kitchen as well since she is going to be making more cheese. Patricia said she will also be around and she'll help chop and stir and then get the boys to help take completed items over to the Storehouse while she logs it into the inventory and gets them on the shelves. That will help and Josie is pretty good about staying in the sling and Jack tries to give her a break from the baby during lunch and in the evenings but he can't take her far in case it gets to be feeding time. Angus said he will hang out too as he is going to marinate some fish he caught before it gets dried into fish jerky. That ought to give the girls more than enough supervision.

Jim brought in a croaker sack full of frogs and crawdaddies from where they are draining one of the swampy areas that was running just a little too close to the curtain wall. The curtain wall is going up on dry ground but they need to cut the moat through so they are temporarily moving the water to a couple of our canals. And Jim set aside half the crawdaddies to go to Aldea for the rice paddies and a quarter of them he dumped near one of our shallowest ponds. The last quarter were fixed to go with dinner and frog legs from the frogs that he didn't dump along the canals. The butt-bumpers we didn't eat should help with the mosquito population; at least I hope so.

One of the things that Glenn brought back for Saen from that last salvage run was a bunch of seed packets. Some of these packets were for Thai lemon grass. Saen told me that as soon as our seedlings get big enough we need to try and get them planted near houses and gathering places and out near the barn. There is something in the lemon grass that acts like a mosquito repellent. I'm all for that. No matter what we do we are all covered with mosquito bites. I don't like it but I can live with it but I hate for them to get into the house. We check the screens every couple of days to make sure there are no holes and even better the kids no longer have to be reminded not to leave the doors open letting the bugs in.

I've had several people want to come by and look at the e-nep. Bob is going to try and duplicate the blade and heft over in the machine shop. More power to him if he can. I don't want to say I like it better than my old faithful machete but I don't like it any less. I could not believe how easy it was to clear the infecteds from the skunkworks gate the other night. Saen also showed me how to braid and weave some skinny bamboo to make a sheath for it. I'm used to a leather sheath but the bamboo one works although it feels odd against my leg.

Well, I've put it off long enough. I need to pull out my recipe file and make a list of items for the girls to work on tomorrow. Tomorrow Angus said he would take Johnnie and distract him a bit by having him help train the puppies. They were allowed to go their own way too long so they are resisting the training they need … about like kids in general I expect. That will let Scott and I sit with Bubby together for a little while.

Hopefully I'll be able to get a little sleep when I'm finished.


	248. Day 292

_**Day 292 (Saturday) – May 18**_

Today hasn't been so good. I mean there have been some good parts but overall it's been pretty cruddy.

I guess it is best to start off with the good stuff. The peddlers finally came by. I have to say Tasha is doing fairly well, I guess she is the equivalent to their leader's daughter-in-law. And she is pregnant. I knew there was going to be a lot of that going around at this stage but it brings me no comfort to be correct.

Iggy actually didn't send but a quick note on Baron's progress up to the point that he left the package with the peddlers. The purpose of the peddlers' stop was to bring me a case of those big commercial grade vermin catchers, perfect for rats with two that are big enough for raccoons and opossums. They are already installed in the Food Storehouse, under the Cooler, and in the Radio Shack which has also had its run-ins with mice and rats chewing on wires and I don't know what all. It didn't even take twenty-four hours for us to make our first captures.

The other bit of good news is that the peddlers reported running into Iggy and Baron again just two days ago and they expect the both of them to be here in just a few days. I assume that means that Iggy has managed to tame Baron to some extent. Where we will go from there I don't know, but we all agreed to accept Iggy's recommendation when he gets back, at least until Baron is through with his probationary period.

Now for the not so great of the day. Bubby spiked another temp and had several seizures, one of the seizures was nearly as bad as the one he had the other day where he bit his tongue. I'm sitting here crying, banging away on this typewriter. It feels so awful, like we've already lost a bit of him.

After the seizures we couldn't get much cognitive response out of him for nearly three hours. Even after he started responding you could tell that some bit of light had gone out. Chad rushed over – I don't know if the man is sleeping any more than we are right now – and this time brought his sister. The type of care that Bubby now needs is beyond Melody and Rose's skill level and experience. Chad and his sister are sleeping over at the Clinic tonight. Scott is over there as well, he wanted me to stay home tonight. I know they think it can't be long now.

I … I don't know what to pray for. I don't want Bubby to die yet I know in my heart that he is hurting and this is a miserable existence for him. They had to drug him up quite a bit last night and earlier today. Chad brought a different kind of pain medication with him and hopefully this will work better without doping him up so much. For my own selfish desires I'd like to hold him once again while he knew me and make sure that he understood that I love him as much as I love my biological children.

Can't type any more. Gonna go stand out under the stars for a while.


	249. Day 294

_**Day 294 (Monday) – May 20**_

 _Rest In Peace_

 _Beloved Son_

 _Bubby Chapman_

 _Left us May 19th this year of our Lord_

We buried him this morning out in the orange grove cemetery beside all of those others that we've lost over the last ten months. We're all just numb. It's different when you lose a child. The world looks different. Even the breeze feels different.

But, and I hope this doesn't make me a bad mother, I'm so glad he is no longer suffering. This has been harder than just about anything that I've faced up to this point in my life.

Johnnie is actually doing better than we expected him to. One of the few things that he has said has been that Bubby's boo-boos are now better. Our faith will carry us through but we'll still have rough patches and I'm about to go through one right now. I'll try and write more another time.


	250. Day 296

_**Day 296 (Wednesday) – May 22**_

Work is helping. So is our faith. Nothing makes it easy, but it is helping. Dante' has been kind, he talked to Scott and I. Sucks to have the death of a child in common but there you go. Not sure that I can write anything else at this point that will make any sense. Striving for some normalcy for the sake of others but for myself there's a hole that nothing fills. Bubby was ours ... our child. He may not have come from our bodies but that doesn't change that he was ours. And now he is gone. For his sake I am relieved because he was in so much pain but for those he left behind ... I can't write anymore.


	251. Day 297

_**Day 297 (Thursday) – May 23**_

Spent most of the day working in the food storehouse and made some good progress. Good progress is welcome. Scott and I talked to the kids yesterday. It is so hard; the grieving process is so much different than it would have been before. Now if we are going to survive, if we are going to ensure the other children survive, we can't sit around and wallow in our grief. Wallow? We're barely able to do more than ... than ... than whatever this is we are doing.

I used to imagine what pioneer women, women from earlier centuries, felt as they put child after child into the cold ground, some stillborn, some victims of childhood illnesses, some from accidents. How did they bury a child one day and then carry on the next? Now I know and I wish to God that I didn't.

But, I can't just give up and wallow in the misery that I could so easily allow to overwhelm me. I have to keep going. I have other children that need me. Scott needs me. And I need them. As long as we still have that we'll make it.

One of the things that Scott and I talked to the kids about was that we needed to clean up all of Bubby's things but we didn't want to appear callous about it. Packing up his things didn't mean we were packing away the memory of him but we have to be practical. We left the photo of him that Brandon took a couple of months back hanging on the wall in the hallway where we have pictures of all of the kids. The only difference is that the girls intertwined a blue silk rose in the filigree of the frame so that his picture stands out from the others. It was their way of saying gone but not forgotten.

Iggy and Baron are back; back just in time for Iggy to help Chad and Ski with Bubby's last day. Iggy was terribly shocked but being a trained pediatric nurse he knows under the circumstances there isn't anything he could have done to have changed the outcome. He was there to make our boy's ending easier. He found a stash of some heavy-duty narcotics and what looks like a newer model of the funeral director's sanitizing tool in an overturned NRSC vehicle that had disappeared in the overgrowth surrounding a dry retention pond.

I'm not ashamed of what we had to do but it isn't something that I'm going to dwell on either. When someone passes we automatically sanitize them as a precaution. Ski said it is best if we think about it at all to simply think about it in the same way we would have the embalming process pre-NRS, or maybe a written DNR order. It's not just part of the process; it removes doubt and worry and prevents unnecessary emotional turmoil of dealing with a reanimation of a loved one.

We haven't forgotten about Bubby. We never will. None of us will. But life must go on and that is what we are trying to do.


	252. Day 298

_**Day 298 (Friday) – May 24**_

More work … and work and work and work. It helps keep us focused but Scott and I talked this morning after we both came to the conclusion we were looking a lot rougher around the edges than was good. We are going to take some family time and just relax this coming Rest Day. I know it will be the week anniversary but … we've got to use some commonsense. We've started back to taking dinner with everyone in the Dining Hall though I think it makes everyone a little subdued. We don't begrudge them the fact that they aren't grieving in the same way we are, it's just a fact of life. They cut their laughter short and that isn't what we want. Bubby was such a character and up to pranks and mischief all the time; it would be a shame that his very memory causes the opposite of what he brought into our lives. We've both agreed to talk to people in ones and twos and try and explain how we feel. Hopefully that will make things a bit easier for everyone.

I've been in the kitchen most of today. The primary reason was I was on cooking detail but I've also been trying to catch up on food preservation that we are decidedly behind on. For breakfast I fixed Praline Biscuits with some of the canned pecans that are getting a little close to their "use by" date. Seems a lot of stuff is getting close to its "use by" date these days. I fried up some slices of pork from a feral hog that Angus and Jim caught rooting around in the area that they cleared for the next set of footers yesterday. We poached eggs for anyone that wanted one. And there was the ever present fruit bowl that rounded out the food groups. I also had a platter of fresh sliced tomatoes just because we had the abundance and could spare it.

 ** _Praline Biscuits_**

 _1/2 cup butter_

 _1/2 cup packed brown sugar_

 _36 pecan or walnut halves_

 _Ground cinnamon_

 _2 cups biscuit baking mix_

 _1/3 cup applesauce_

 _1/3 cup milk_

 _Preheat oven to 450 degrees F. Place 2 teaspoons butter, 2 teaspoons brown sugar and 3 pecan halves in each of 12 (2 1/2 x 1 1/4-inch muffin cups. Sprinkle cinnamon in each cup. Heat in oven until melted. Mix baking mix, applesauce and milk until dough forms. Beat 20 strokes. Spoon onto mixture into cups. Bake for 10 minutes. Invert onto a serving plate. Serve warm. Makes 12 biscuits._

For lunch I tried my hand at a gator gumbo … that was Jim again. Surprisingly we are having more problems with gators than I thought possible. Yesterday Huey nearly got taken under by the gator we ate today. Angus thinks Huey's ribs are only a little bruised where he got caught by the gator's tail. Thankfully he was able to get purchase under his paws and get out of the edge of the swamp before the gator attacked again. The gator had to fight the cypress knees that Huey hopped over. Jim got there before Angus and took the shot but it still took the gator a second to realize he was dead.

Actually Dante' was the one that directed how I fixed the gumbo but he wouldn't let anyone but him fix the roux … that's the gumbo base. We all got a long lecture on how important a Cajun roux is. His antics brought the first real smile to my face that I've had in a while. To go with the gumbo Dante' asked if I'd fix a Syrup Cake. It was easy enough so I indulged him and turned it into a lesson for the girls. For every cake you take one cup of cane syrup, one cup of white sugar, two cups of flour, one teaspoon baking soda, two eggs, half a cup of boiling water, and one teaspoon of vanilla. Mix everything together and then pour it into an ungreased baking tin and bake thirty minutes at 350 degrees F. Johnnie, who still like to keep me in sight, got to lick the spoon and said it was "easy peezy nice and squeezy." It was the first truly goofy thing he has said. I guess we are all regaining our balance a bit at a time.

Aldea is having some trouble with female gators getting testy about their nests. Gator eggs incubate for two months and Momma Gator hangs around the whole time and then a little afterwards. Momma gators can be nastier than male gators during nesting season as Chris found out. He was nearly dumped out of his canoe when he got too close to a Momma Gator's turf; she charged the canoe but only made it rock wildly. Everyone is learning to be much more careful as wildlife of all flavors tries to return to supremacy around us.

But we are man … the pointy top of the food chain. I forget where that comes from; knowing my brain it is some weird show I was only half way listening to with the kids, but it is true. Of course nature has been known to win a few as well so we avoid taking stupid chances. There are gator hides stretched on the sides of several buildings within Sanctuary. Where there aren't gator hides there are deer hides, and small animal pelts. Come December we'll probably be adding a couple of beef hides when we cull the herd of the weaker animals. I still have plenty of chamois from all our salvaging runs but it will be good to have some leather to trade to the shoemaker for moccasins and for patching work jean with. Be nice for winter coats as well since some of our folks don't have any kind of winter wear at all though that seems a million years off, doing all the sewing by hand or with treadle machines takes a lot of pre-planning.

I've started wearing road sandals when the weather is good and leaving the closed toe shoes for the girls. I'm getting too old to get a complex if my feet aren't "pretty." Our road sandals are just sandals made out of old tires that can't be used for anything else. They are comfortable after you break them in though I did get blisters between my toes until I changed the design to be more like a Roman sandal than a flip flop. I prefer the strap running across the top of my foot even if it does mean adding a strap that holds the sandal to the heel. The one drawback on the sandals is that they pick up a lot of heat if you are walking on concrete for any length of time or standing in direct sunlight. If we have enough leather bits and pieces left over I may eventually switch the uppers on the sandals to leather or maybe even some of that bamboo cloth that Kim and Saen are playing around with.

One of the things that we helped Kim and Daniel do was reinforce the fence around their place. That last round of zombies did a number on it but luckily the house was already well enforced and they didn't have too much trouble. Kim swore she has a couple of dozen new gray hairs from the experience but I told her she still had a way to go before she approached my now visible gray streaked locks.

The reason my dye job washed out so quickly is that we have to use homemade products that tend to be a little more stringent or harsher. Even with washing our hair only once a week now the harsh lye-based hair shampoos just really do a number. Poor Rose who, now that she has cut her hair shoulder length, has Shirley Temple curls. I did warn her but she is at an age to experiment and working in the Clinic the shorter hair is easier for her to manage. But it gets terribly frizzy at the least provocation. I've given the last of the "real" shampoo to her and Sarah because they share the same hair woes but that won't last much longer. I've been scrambling through my homemade cleaning recipes and found one that I'll try tomorrow night.

You take hibiscus leaves and put water on them and then basically puree the leaves and water together. Then you strain out the leaf bits through a fine sieve and use right away to wash your hair. Another recipes says that I can used dried soapwort root. I've got some soapwort growing out in the herb garden but it hasn't spread much yet. Maybe in a few months I'll take one of the plants out and see about drying the root and trying it. I hate to use roots until I have enough of the plant growing to replace what I use.

I asked Dora if she knows how to make shampoo that isn't quite so harsh and she says she does but it requires a lot of olive oil and that it is hard to come by. I didn't tell her we have over a year's supply of the stuff left from where we salvaged down in Ybor City and most people had a bottle of olive oil stashed in their homes in this area. I'd love to trade her for some olive oil soap but I'm not quite ready to share that bit of info just yet. I wonder if I have any books on how olive oil is made? Of course since we don't grow olives the whole exercise is likely pointless but it still might be worth looking into.

Good grief my mind is hazy the last week or so. I know why but I keep straying from what I mean to write down. Like I was saying I was in the kitchen most of today and besides cooking I've been preserving. I dried a lot of stuff that was sitting in the Cooler though I did have to throw a couple of tomatoes that got a bit squished into the hog slop pail. That irritated me a bit but I really don't have any room to complain. People were helping the best they could and I should be more grateful.

The big thing was shocking the corn. I had thought we were going to be able to leave the shocks of corn in the field but one walk out there this morning told me we are losing too much to varmints … probably raccoons. I had the kids bring in a couple of shocks at a time. Whoa, better back up and explain what a shock of corn is.

With "field" or "dent" corn you leave the corn in the field until the plants have died and dried up. The leaves are kind of this beige-gray color at this point. You cut the stalks off at the ground leaving the ears of corn in place. Even though the corn plants are ready for harvest and the ears of corn appear dry the kernels still have too much moisture in them to truly qualify as dried yet. There is no standard number of stalks to a shock but I remember my Granddaddy's rule of thumb that you should be able to get about 870 shocks per acre and he used 20 stalks per shock.

We've got over an acre of field corn planted but dopey me thought it was the right thing to do to plant it consecutively so it wouldn't all be ready for harvest at one time. Stupid. Next season I'll plant only the sweet corn consecutively in blocks of four rows for better pollination. The field corn will all go in the ground as close together as I can manage it so it will be ready for harvest all at the same time. As it is cultivating the corn field has been a pain in the tush and now harvesting is more work that it needed to be.

Anyway I had the kids bring a shock or two at a time; whatever they could managed in the wagons that Bob built for the golf cart. On each stalk you only get one or two ears of corn. Sweet corn you can run two to four but usually two. We got lucky this year and the field corn had more twos than one. I hope that continues to breed true with the heirlooms we used.

Next I cut the ears off of the stalks but leave the husks untouched until I had cut all of the ears off of one shock; that was usually between thirty and forty ears of corn that looked dried but wasn't dry enough for permanent storage. Then I would pull back the husks from ear but leave them attached at the stub end. The next part was easy and hard at the same time. I learned real quick to wear gloves because those dried husks sliced like a paper cut. I would start bay lying three ears of corn side-by-side and then braiding the husks together. As a husk would start to get too short to braid I would add a new ear and husk. I'm getting pretty good; I can get nearly a bushel of corn ears into a braid.

I then tied the beginning of the corn braid to a long metal pole. When Scott came in from working on the curtain wall he got a couple of the guys to help him hang the pole (with the corn braids handing down). It was hung up in the rafters of the new pole barn over the washing machines much like my grandfather used to hang tobacco sticks full of tobacco leaves. The corn will need to dry for at least three months before it can be ground into corn meal. Scott has plans for building a big – as in two stories tall, and plenty long, with levels of rafters – shed that we can secure, putting ridge vents on top, and then running a couple of big blowers through it. Basically it would be a big drying shed and hopefully that would cut down the drying time.

Once the corn is dried you have to shuck the corn from the ears which is going to be an oversized pain in the tush unless I can remember how to make a dried kernel remover. How I'm going to remember exactly how this thing is made when I can't even remember what it is called is beyond me. Basically is was a hole in a wooden plank and my grandfather had somehow driven nails in the hole so that it looked like a hole with teeth. You pushed the dried cob of corn through the hole with a twisting action and the dried kernels popped off and fell into a bucket set under the hole. It was our job – all of us younger cousins – to wait for a cob to fall through the hole and we would pull it out of the bucket and toss it into another bucket leaving only the corn kernels in the first bucket.

Then my grandfather would take the grandfather would take the dried corn cob and run them through a shredder so they made a mulch. This mulch was used as flooring in and around the hen house. The chickens loved to scratch through the stuff looking for stray kernels of corn that were left. Better yet the cobs were very absorbent and kept the floor of the hen house dry.

And now my hands are so sore I'm going to have to stop typing. I'm very glad I thought to leave the gloves on even those they were a little bit of a pain otherwise in addition to sore they'd be all cut up. I'm going to go inside and have Scott massage my hands with some lotion if he is still awake. He's been working awful hard. The towers on the north and west side are completely finished except for framing out the inside. Even the new main gate has been poured and is curing. The footers and foundations and most of the levels have been poured on the towers on the south side and they should finish the footers and foundations for the towers on the west side early next week if rain doesn't hold them up. After that they will start on the straight sections of the wall.

When I asked him why they were pushing so hard he said because he wanted to get enough done so that they could leave on the northern run after Rose's birthday. Rose's birthday is June 12th. So … we just lost Bubby and now I'm having to contemplate Scott and James leaving and never coming back. I'm trying hard not to get angry and the only reason I'm succeeding is I don't have the energy.

So I'm going to bed and just try and make the best of it that I can.


	253. Day 299

_**Day 299 (Saturday) – May 25**_

Spent a lot of the day in the garden playing catch up. The harvesting got done pretty well while I was out of it but the hoeing didn't. I tried to hit the worst spots and next week when the crew from Aldea comes over they can help me get the rest of it I hope. The thing is you have to start so early in the day because it is already busting up into the upper 80s in the afternoon and that is with nearly 100% humidity, especially after the afternoon rain showers we've been getting nearly every day.

The rain is good but when it rains in the late afternoon that means there is usually a heavy dew the next morning. That in turns means I have to wait longer to harvest things. What I've started doing is hoeing first thing in the morning, then harvesting and then go back to hoeing until it gets too hot. Then I'll harvest anything I didn't get to and then rest when the rain comes. Not a perfect solution but it makes the best use of my time.

Today I pulled all the dried bean plants and took them to the kids who sat under a tree and pulled off the pods and put them into a bushel basket. Each kind of bean had its own bushel basket. Before dinner I put the bean pods into mesh bags and hung them up with the corn that I braided today. The bean pods should be dry as they need to be shortly and then we'll shell out the dried beans and put them in big gallon jars with a bay leaf to keep the bugs away.

While Charlene and I hoed we talked about what needed to be done so that the guys going on the northern run would have food. The food needed to be easy to fix and lightweight. The easiest would be to just give them a bunch of MREs but there aren't that many of those things left. That meant make up trail food and hoping they could supplement with some hunting if they got a chance. I have two or three cookbooks that have the perfect recipes for this kind of stuff and Charlene and I are going to sit down tomorrow and plan some stuff out and then run it by Scott to see what he thinks of it.

Betty was back in charge of the kitchen and we had potato omelets for breakfast, vegetable soup for lunch, and for dinner we had enchiladas and refried beans. What the guys didn't know is that there was TVP mixed up with the ground pork in the enchiladas. I sure as heck wasn't telling Scott. He has a prejudice against TVP. He doesn't care if he doesn't know it is in a recipe but if I say something he always thinks he can taste it. Honestly, if it is in a recipe it is in a recipe. What difference does it make to the taste if I tell him what is in it?

Betty came out to the garden to talk to me and I sent Charlene off to get us some water when it was apparent she wanted to say something privately. We are really getting low on flour and half of the flour we do have left has weevils in it. She is going to sift the infested flour and stick it in the Cooler to try and keep the bugs from reappearing but the bottom line is we've got maybe a month's worth of flour left. We have a couple of super pails of whole wheat and wheat berries but that won't go very far either feeding everyone here in Sanctuary. Aldea is just about as bad off. I haven't a clue how OSAG is doing in that respect because Phillip plays their food storage really close to the vest.

What she wanted to know was how long before we could grind the corn into cornmeal and how much were we likely to have. After I told her it would be three months before we could do anything with the corn I'd already hung to dry I told her that if things keep going well, we'll get a hundred bushels of corn off of the acre of dent corn we planted. That was just the dent corn. We also had an acre of sweet corn and another acre of miscellaneous other corn varieties like popcorn and Indian corn.

It was the dent corn that made the best cornmeal but we also need the corn to make corn oil so we wouldn't be so dependent on lard alone for cooking. A bushel of corn yields a little over two pounds of corn oil so some of the dent corn was going to get used that way. We also wanted to use some of it to make hominy with. I also wanted to see if I could make corn syrup the old fashioned way. As for grinding it, a bushel of shelled corn weighs fifty-six pounds and will yield just about the same weight in cornmeal once it is ground if you leave the germ in.

We won't have a lot for trading this year after we split the harvest three ways and set aside a little for our small satellite communities but we should be OK. Now that I know what I'm doing we'll plant more next year. And I told Betty that Saen thinks the rice crop will be really good as well considering this is her first try growing it in Florida under less than ideal circumstances. If no wheat is found for trade on the Northern Run we should be able to make do with what we can make from corn and rice. It will be an adjustment but what hasn't been these days?

I was just too tired to sit around talking after dinner so I gathered up the little kids and headed back to the house. On the way over I kept counting my ducklings and coming up one short. I was just about ready to panic when I realized I was still counting Bubby. That did it. I shooed the kids inside and had them get their night clothes on while I took Kitty to change her. I barely made it to the bedroom and closed the door before the tears started falling. I put Kitty down long enough to wash my face and had just picked her up before Johnnie banged into the room wanting to sleep with us.

Scott and I had decided it was time for him to go back to the boys' room and it took me and Padric both to convince him to sleep in there. Padric is turning into a good kid. I'm hoping with time he'll be less of a pushover but Scott and I will protect him the best way we can until he is stronger.

Scott wasn't much later than I was. In fact, everyone is tired. All the hard work everyone is been doing in the humidity combined with all the recent drama just takes it out of a body. Scott fell asleep reading the boys a bedtime story. As soon as I can put the typewriter away I'm going to get him up and make him go to bed. Tomorrow may be a rest day but we still have things to do.


	254. Day 300

_**Day 300 (Sunday) – May 26**_

I passed a personal milestone today … it has been 300 days since I started this journal. When I started it I had no idea how much our lives were going to change and how long that change would last. The "new and bizarre" has leveled off lately; it hasn't completely stopped happening but at least it has leveled off. For a while there it was like living in the Twilight Zone, now the Twilight Zone seems almost normal and our old "normal" would be weird.

That started me thinking if I would ever want to go back to the way things were before. To be honest I could do without the zombies and the daily struggle for survival against ridiculous odds. I would like to have access to the medical care we used to have in this country. I would really like not having to think about burying another person out in the orange grove, especially none of my children. But would I go all the way back to the way things were before? I really don't think so for lots of different reasons.

My main task of the day is to start planning out the food that will go on the Northern Run. Charlene and I pulled out about a half dozen cookbooks and drew up a list of options for the guys to go over. This was made a little easier when I found out the guys decided two divide the run into two different runs. The first run is going to be up to and possibly over the state line for information gathering and to see what kind of markets are available; maybe even arrange some trading pacts. Once those people get back then a larger run will occur based on their information.

Scott, James, Jim, Iggy, and Ronan are going on the information gathering run. We might get someone from OSAG as well but that isn't for certain though they've said they would send one or two people on the bigger run to the north. I'm still not happy with Scott and James going but I'm coming to terms with it. I sense that they both need this. I don't know why and perhaps I am rationalizing it but that doesn't change the fact that it is what I am sensing. Sound like one of those ridiculous prognosticators that used to blather all over the tv and internet back in the day predicting this and that or claiming they could sense people's emotions, yada, yada. There is no spooky to this, only a wife and mom's intuition. Or at least that is my story and I am sticking to it.

As far as the meal choices go the food has to be lightweight and nutritious, but with enough bulk that they aren't constantly hungry. The road is going to be a hard place and they'll need to keep their strength up. Here is the list we've got so far.

Breakfasts:

*Granola with dried fruit

*Pancakes with apricot leather syrup

*Fruit leather breakfast cookies

*Cranberry pan biscuits

*Cheesy Bacon Grits

*Supercharged Oatmeal

*Brown sugar and cinnamon quinoa

*Powdered egg omelet

*Fruity Breakfast Rice

*Powdered egg scramble

*Dried fruit couscous

*Pizza pan biscuits

*Cheese and Meat Potatoes

*Granola cereal and milk (no cook)

Lunches/Dinners:

*Creamy rosa chicken pasta

*Chickpea and sweet corn salad (no cook)

*Cranberry ranch chicken salad on crackers (no cook)

*Tuna Lemon Couscous Salad (no cook)

*Salsa chicken wraps (no cook)

*Lentil and tomato salad (no cook)

*PB and honey granola wraps (no cook)

*Harvest chicken salad wraps (no cook)

*Fish balls (recipe from Saen)

*Thai ginger chicken noodles

*Pizza spaghetti

*Bruschetta pasta

*Rice and beans

*Orange rice with salmon

*Ramen pot pie

*Red bean stew

*Pesto salmon salad

*Thai chicken curry

*Fried rice

*Tuna tortellini

*French onion noodle bowl

*Bacon and pea alfredo pasta

*Chicken cheddar polenta

*Spamtastic lo mein

There are only ten dinners as opposed to fourteen breakfasts and fourteen lunches because Scott wants to try and supplement their food supply with hunting and Jim thinks it is pretty realistic. I'd rather them have it and not need it than need it and not have it but the guys also have to consider the weight and bulk of the food they are taking on top of everything else. We still need to work on ideas for drink mixes and some snacks but otherwise so far the guys are pretty happy with what we have planned for them.

I let one of my secrets out of the bag with Charlene but told her to keep mum about it. For most of all the ingredients to make the foods we'll be able to pull from the Food Storehouse but for some of them … like the chicken, spam, and salmon … I'm going to pull from my secret pantry stash. That stuff needs to be rotated and I need the space to store the stuff I'm canning and preserving out of our personal garden in the backyard.

If OSAG doesn't send someone for the first run then the guys are going to take an F350 truck that Bob has done some stuff to "harden it against attack" – gotta love that man's accent – and load both fuel tanks with biodiesel as well as an oversized third tank that has been built into the oversized long bed. The dual tanks hold 38 gallons each and the reserve tank in the bed of the truck holds 98 gallons for a total of 174 gallons of biodiesel. Scott says at a conservative average of ten miles per gallon (they aren't going to be towing anything) that will give them over 1700 miles without a refuel. That would get them to Kentucky and back so I'm not too worried about them running out of gas. Ronan is pretty handy mechanically as is Jim but Bob and Conrad are giving them extra pointers before they head out.

Before they can finalize the departure date however a couple of things have to be finished. One, Scott won't go until after Rose's birthday; she'll be 18 and we always planned on making a big deal out of it and I think it is important in case, God forbid, something should happen beyond what already has. Two, 174 gallons of biodiesel is no small amount so we need to have that set aside from what we normally make and use. Three, the curtain wall needs to reach a point that the surveying is completely finished and all of the traces are at least started if not finished. They only plan on being gone two weeks for the first northern run but Scott doesn't want to put everything on hold during that time. If the first trace or two is poured for the entire curtain wall then while Scott is gone Glenn – who is the closest thing to a real engineer that we have – will still be able to split his time between making sure the traces are going up straight and making sure the projects in the skunkworks get completed on time.

And we've added one more caveat to their departure. Salt. We are running out faster than I ever would have expected. Preserving the meat in the smokehouse takes more salt that I thought plus canning and preserving use a lot as well. We need it for seasoning fresh food too. In fact we use salt in a lot of different ways … for mixing with baking soda as a tooth cleaner, for mixing with vinegar for an all purpose cleaner, for soaking up oily spills, killing poison ivy, and for taking the itch out of mosquito bites.

Padric was the one that came up with our solution believe it or not. He over heard Scott and the men talking about how to get salt and the little booger just asked why they didn't go where his dad used to work; they had lots and lots of salt there. Apparently he was some type of safety geek at Cargill. One of the things that Cargill did here in Tampa was salt. Of course Padric couldn't tell us where the plant was but a trip through the yellow pages helped jog Scott's memory.

Angus, Jim, Austin, and Brian are going to take a trailer and go over to Hooker's Point off of the north end of the 22nd Street Causeway bridge. If nothing has happened to the salt plant it will be right on Maritime Blvd right between a CSX rail line. They leave tomorrow and plan on being gone overnight, maybe two, so that meant Charlene and I had to pack some food for them as well.

Before dinner Scott and I took a walk around Sanctuary. We started comparing the way things used to be with the way they are now and realized that there was no real comparison. We've changed the face of the land and our house and a very few others is the center of a totally new, practically self-sufficient community.

Self-sufficient in no way means that we can make everything we need but we can make most of what we need if you look at the TTT as a whole. And for what we can't make we are building healthy trade relationships, emphasis on the word healthy. We keep need fulfillment local and are only stretching outside our immediate territory to take care of some wants. But we won't get shafted either by paying more than fair market value for something.

I noticed my blood lilies and pineapple lilies were close to blooming. I love the extra color they add to things. For a while I tried to plant flowers all over Sanctuary but it came down to how much time I had. I keep my personal flower garden up, the herb garden, and all the marigolds in the vegetable fields but all the other stuff has gone to pot. The other women are the same; there just isn't enough time in the day. Maybe one day there will be, but not at the moment.

And speaking of that, it is now time for me to prioritize for some extra sleep. It was mentally exhausting trying to not get all the upset by this being the week anniversary of Bubby's death. Rose, Charlene, Sarah, and I had a bit of a cry over in the kitchen but only a bit because we had been talking about some shenanigan or other that Bubby and Johnnie had gotten up to last month. Johnnie is spending a lot of time with Scott and David which helps with his feelings but when Scott and James go away I'm afraid we are going to have a very upset little boy on our hands.


	255. Day 304

_**Day 304 (Thursday) – May 30**_

Rain, rain go away come again some other day. Scott has been so frustrated; the last three days of rain has made it very hard for them to work. Monday and early Tuesday let them finish all of the footers and foundations for the curtain wall. They also finished all of the pours for the towers except for a couple of crenellations on the main gate which have to wait until the end to make sure they have room for all the gadgets and security gizmos they want to build in. They even got several sections of pouring frames built and installed but Tuesday afternoon it started raining and it hasn't really stopped since.

Problem number one, they can't really pour in the heavy rain. If it was just a sprinkle that would be fine but too much rain makes for a bad concrete pour so until things dry up they aren't able to pour. They've been trying to save some time however by building more slip molds and by putting in the chunks of concrete debris for the next pours. Problem number two is the dry moat is turning into a wet moat. Glenn and Scott thinks this is a good chance to make sure the sides of the moat are going to hold up or whether there are any sections that are going to over flow. So far so good but what a way to test to see if all that work pouring the walls will hold and stay upright.

With the rain I expect the mosquitoes to start being a serious problem next week, especially if the moats keep water in them. If there is any section that looks like it is going to keep any depth of water in it I may ask the guys to go back to Busch Gardens and try and break back some of those big carp in the "river" over in the bird gardens. The carps will be happy to eat the mosquito larvae and dragon flies that are taking up residence around here. Dang dragon flies hurt with they bite.

Charlene and I continue to put the food packages together for the Northern Run. Iggy is definitely going on the run which made me concerned about what we were going to do with Baron; well that's been handled to everyone's satisfaction, even Baron's. Chad and his sister has agreed to take Baron on. This will give Chad some help and Baron will be able to continue learning basic medical care. There are enough former LEOs and the like in OSAG that Baron should be too intimidated to pull any stunts … or at least pull any more after a first one. OSAG doesn't have as many children as Sanctuary and Aldea has too few and isn't really a good match for Baron anyway.

The younger children are getting irritable that they can't go outside, and the older kids are getting the sniffles because they have to in order to complete their chores. The guys on the Wall aren't exactly having fun either. They are either stuck in the guard stations during the worst rain or stuck on the Wall Walk when the rain is lighter. Everyone's clothing is soaked and doesn't have a chance to dry before it has to be used again. Angus mentioned some natural waterproofing that uses beeswax and bear grease. Well we have the beeswax but no bear grease. Personally I wouldn't know how to go about getting bear grease in this area but Angus and Jim are up to something.

Mr. Morris reported that two of his earliest wines have gone to vinegar. I thought he would be upset but he said that is actually a good thing because now he can make more vinegar by just preserving the "mother." I think that is the slime that formed when the wine went over and that is the starter for each new batch of vinegar. I knew Angus and Mr. Morris had been up to something but this is a great thing. We use a lot of vinegar and I wasn't sure what we would do when we ran out. Saen told me she would also like to make some rice vinegar and coconut vinegar. Hopefully we can do that because Reba said with a starter she can show me how to make fruit vinegar and even a cane vinegar which might be very good items for trading.

The rain has given us a chance to catch up on our canning which has been very helpful. I've had to pick beans in the rain to do it but I pick only a bushel at a time and then get the beans snapped and going before I go out for the next bushel. I do it this way to keep the food from souring while it just sits around waiting on us. I've had to piece out melons to the whole TTT so many are coming in; it's crazy. Conrad took three big ones over to Mr. Choi's group and Mr. Choi himself came over to thank me. Underneath that austereness he is actually a very warmhearted man.

Getting the dried corn harvested and strung up to dry isn't easy. I've actually taken to cutting the ears, opening the husks, and then putting them in the drying oven for an hour or so to dry out everything before I start braiding. That way I don't have to worry about braiding damp husks which could ruin everything.

Other than that and the occasional crying jag I have over Bubby things have been going along as they should. As soon as the rain lets up however we are going to really have to hoof it. And Scott said that David talked to him about talking to both of us about giving Rose a promise ring for her birthday. It won't be an engagement ring but he just wants her to know he is serious about being serious … but serious enough to give her time as well. Scott and I have agreed so long as it is only a promise ring and that there is no pressure on Rose to make any immediate choices. Poor David looked ready to panic at the thought of getting married when we brought it up. I think it is just more of a formal statement that they are more than friends – like no one has noticed. What is really cute about the whole thing is that David made the ring himself with Bob's help. It is going to be silver with a flat knot where a stone would normally be.

I'm going to bed and try and get some sleep. With all the rain the sheets and everything else in the house feels damp and I can't stand that. And the dampness is also stirring up all of the nasty, rotten smell from the zombies. It adds a depressing miasma to what is an already difficult situation.


	256. Day 306

_**Day 306 (Saturday) – June 1**_

I'm dragging. I know I'm dragging. Part of it is this rain. A couple of days of full rain and now the last two days it has been overcast in the morning and then it rains like a lunatic from about three o'clock in the afternoon until midnight. I've been harvesting what I can and what is too far from harvest I trying to keep up off the wet ground by putting hay beneath it, or the long, dried grass we use as hay. I've already lost one big pumpkin to rot; possibly one of my big hubbard squash as well, I'm not sure yet. Doggone if I didn't jinx things by talking about how well the gardens have been going.

Our drying oven has been kept busy for the last 72 hours straight. As soon as stuff comes out of the garden it is prepared for canning or dehydrating. The beans are mildewing almost faster than we can get them shelled and canned. Honestly though my biggest worry is the corn that is still in the field. We bring in four or five shocks of corn at a time, cut all of the ears off and load them on the big drying oven trays. A couple of hours of drying then we braid the ears together and lay that in the oven to dry a couple of more hours. We've been going at this for the last 48 hours … and I mean that literally. We attached one of those newish outdoor propane tiki torches right up to a tank of AldeaFuel in the kitchen and we are working shifts trying to get everything we can in out of the field. Scott isn't liking the weather at all, he says it is the first of June so this is the storm season rolling in. I hope this isn't a precursor of things to come.

I met someone new today. This man was quite the character … on par with Angus when he really gets going. As a matter of fact, Mr. Wallace, Mr. Morris and Angus spent most of the evening drinking all of the younger men under the table. There are going to be some very sore heads tomorrow.

Mr. Wallace is Jedidiah Wallace from the coal mines of West Virginia. Mr. Wallace's beauteous companion is a sorry looking hound dog that answers to the name of Donkey, or Donk for short. I had stepped across the road to rescue one of Glenn's gnomes that had somehow fallen over into a water filled pothole. I was standing up when he was suddenly just there on the edge of the old tarmac.

"What dang fool thought up those things? Whoever it is must be crazier than ol' Shelack Davis after he's got a toot on."

Since I couldn't really deny the charges on Glenn's behalf I asked him if he had come to trade. I wasn't too nervous as I knew for a fact that James had me in his line of sight from the corner of the new tower.

"Nope, looking for a place to dry off. But I will trade yer some news from the road for a warm meal."

I could tell the old man – he was in his late 60s easily – was favoring his right hip and knee. James must have signaled that I was with a stranger because Angus and Waleski came out and after a brief conversation the four of us went inside. I could tell Waleski wanted to get Mr. Wallace some relief for his arthritis and Angus is a good judge of character. Angus may be eccentric but his instincts haven't failed us yet though he has let them run him into trouble a couple of times.

Our visitor gave everyone something to focus on besides the rain. And like yesterday the heavy rains started at three o'clock. Mr. Wallace – I never could bring myself to call him Jedidiah because he reminded me too much of my grandfather's brothers – was a small, wiry man that had obviously seen a rough life. He claims to have worked in the coal mines and he certainly looks like it in his bib overalls and drawling West Virginia accent. He claims the mines filled up with zombies so when work ran out he started walking south and doesn't plan to stop until he gets to the end of the Keys.

While people milled in and out listening to the old man's stories some of us went over to the kitchen and got dinner started. Jim brought in two more gators that were cruising the rapidly filling moat. We decided to try something new at Dante's suggestion. We made marinated gator ribs.

MARINATED GATOR RIBS

2 pounds Florida alligator ribs  
1/4 cup cider vinegar  
1/3 cup lemon juice  
2 tablespoons vegetable oil  
1 teaspoon season salt  
1/2 teaspoon season black pepper

Place ribs in a shallow glass dish or large resealable plastic food storage bag. Pour vinegar over ribs; toss to thoroughly coat all pieces well. Cover dish or close bag; marinate in vinegar for 15 minutes in the refrigerator. Combine juice, oil, salt, and pepper until well blended. Reserve 1/8 cup marinade for basting. Add remaining marinade to ribs. Turn and coat well. Marinate in the refrigerator for 45 minutes. Remove ribs from marinade; discard marinade. Grill over medium coals about 45 minutes or until ribs are tender, basting frequently with 1/8 cup marinade.

Two sets of gator ribs wasn't going to fill up the crowd we had in Sanctuary so I also took the tail meat and made a boatload of Sautéed Alligator, a big dish of rice pilaf, squash casserole and a couple of carrot cakes for dessert.

Sautéed Alligator Medallions in Dijon Mustard Sauce

1 lb. Florida alligator meat  
4 extra large Florida eggs, beaten  
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour  
1/2 cup drawn butter seasoned with salt and pepper

Dijon Mustard Sauce  
1 cup mayonnaise  
1 tbs. Dijon mustard  
1 tsp. soy sauce  
1 tsp. Florida lemon juice  
Combine all ingredients and mix well.

Make sure meat is free of fat. Cut meat into small medallion like pieces and tenderize with a meat mallet until very thin. Roll the medallions in seasoned flour making sure the meat is completely covered. Dip each piece into beaten eggs. Then quickly sauté in hot sauté pan with butter until golden brown on both sides. Drain and serve with Dijon Mustard Sauce.

Carrot Cake

2 cups flour

1 cup sugar

1 1/4 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. salt

1 tsp. cinnamon

1 tsp. nutmeg

1 tsp. allspice

5 slices candied ginger, chopped

4 tsp. Just Whites

1 cup raisins

1 can sliced carrots

1/2 cup oil

Put the carrots in a bowl and mash a bit with a fork. Leave them looking like shredded carrots. Add the dry ingredients and the raisins. Mix well. The carrot liquid should be enough, but if batter is too dry, add a little water. Grease your cast iron skillet and put the batter in it. Cover and cook at low heat for about 30–40 minutes.

Some of the men - including Scott, James, and David – talked well into the night. I brought the kids home with intention of putting them to bed and then quickly crawling into my own but it didn't work that way. The kids went to bed easily enough with the older ones voluntarily heading to bed as well; working in the rain is unexpectedly tiring. But every time I put my head down to sleep my sinuses would rebel and I would get so stuffy that I just couldn't stand it.

I got up and made myself a pot of peppermint tea hoping that it would help with the stuffiness and it has some but while I waited on the peppermint to work I started going over my notes of things that need to be done and writing in the journal … not typing because it is too wet to be out on the lanai and typing here in the house would keep the kids awake.

Tomorrow it is going to be more of the same. I am planting some sweet potatoes that I traded for at the last Market Day but I'm doing it in large barrel halves in the hopes of saving them from the armadillos that Dora warned me of. I've seen a couple of those things in Sanctuary but they run off when I try and see where there nest or den or whatever they sleep in. Huey, Dewey, and Louie brought Angus one that they had killed day before yesterday; it was probably flooded out from its home and disoriented which made it easier for them to catch.

Varmints are another reason however why I want to be careful with the garden. There isn't much that I can plant now that the hot months and hurricane season is here, that means that our access to fresh veggies is going to go down. We have a lot preserved and stored away but that doesn't mean that we won't miss the fresh stuff. I'll especially miss the fresh lettuce that is beginning to wilt.

I got with Rose today and asked her if there was anything in particular that she wanted for her birthday. That must have given her the opening to ask if her dad and I were really OK with David giving her a ring. I asked her whether it was OK with her that David was giving her a ring. She blushed bright red and nearly didn't answer me but eventually she said yes so long as it isn't anything more than a promise ring.

I asked her if that is because she still wasn't sure that David was the one and then she told me something that I hadn't expected at all. She said she was sure but she wanted to give him the option of changing his mind for a while longer because she thought maybe he might get tired of waiting until she was ready for all of the stuff that comes with marriage.

"Mom, I was a little jealous of Melody at first but now … now I know I'm not ready for everything she's going through. I'm not ready for kids. I'm not ready for being the person in charge of everything that goes on in the house. I like … love … David but I'm just not ready for anything else, um, like sex and babies and all of that. I could do it but I don't want to yet. If David wants all that right now he's asking too much."

I assured her that David turned green when we mentioned it and she was relieved rather than insulted at what could have been an implied insult. "That's what he told me," she said with relief. "I do love him Mom but … I just don't want the rest of it yet. Things are complicated enough." Which is perfectly fine with Scott and I; one less thing to worry about. Rose never had been inclined with the boys despite her looks. Scott and I had wondered if we were holding her back at one point but were summarily told when we tried to breach the subject when she was younger that a lot of her friends just preferred "group dates" and casual get togethers as opposed to the intensity (and temptation) involved with one-on-one dating. I spoke with a few other parents and they told me the same kind of stories. Sure, you had a few kids that did the one on one dating scene but not like it was when we were growing up. Geez, sounding - and feeling - a little old. Whatever the story, I'm just glad that Rose is waiting; she's correct, things are complicated enough.

And I think James and Charlene are taking their cue from David and Rose. They are very careful not to do something that gets them noticed as a couple even though you'd have to be blind not to notice it. But the "mushy stuff" doesn't appear to be a huge part of their more-than-friends relationship; they held hands once and the littles noticed and absolutely tortured them for days over it. Even Scott and I started feeling sorry for them.

I hear Scott stumbling up the walk. He must have dropped by the Dining Hall after guard duty. Best go get his dry clothes ready and keep him from waking all the kids up.


	257. Day 308

_**Day 308 (Monday) – June 3**_

We've finally caught a break with the rain. Yesterday it only rained for an hour in the afternoon and today it hasn't rained at all. That's not to say things are still soaking wet. We hear from the radio that sections of town are basically flooded. The flooding wasn't caused by the amount of rain per se but because there were areas of town that were dependent on storm drains to move water out of the area. Storms drain are clogged or full or some have even collapsed so low places are beginning to have the problems they'd had before the city and county went in and "improved" the area.

Aldea probably came out the best in TTT. They don't have very much concrete over there and the swamp lands are obviously swamp lands and did what they were supposed to do which is absorb all the rain and filter it into the river. The river has been pretty low the last couple of years so even though it rose really fast a couple of times it was nowhere near threatening to overflow its banks. OSAG has the most concrete but the university built a lot of retention ponds and saved as many green spaces as they could. The ditches along Fletcher Avenue flooded and there is a lot of standing water on the campus grounds but no building flooding or anything like that although Shorty told me that there are roof in window links in some of the more damaged buildings. To make sure their own buildings are secure they are re-tarring the flat roofs with stuff they found at the Physical Plant buildings around campus.

Sanctuary's only real problem is that the potholes in the remaining roads get worse with every rain. Not even a year ago the road looked practically brand new but all of the heavy equipment and abuse have really destroyed it in places. Scott says we need to decide whether to repair the road or simply take it up and turn it into gravel. I'm not sure which would be better. David spent most of yesterday dredging out a couple of the still shallow canals. In a few days, after the mud settles, he will break down the thin wall of dirt down separating that set of canals from the remainder of the canal system inside Sanctuary and his initial plan will be complete. Next will come building up the habitat and then adding more fish and frogs and stuff.

The dry moats are a joke. A grown man could drown in the "dry" moats now. Glenn and Scott are surprised at how well they are holding water, they expected the water to filter through faster than it is doing. There are only two possible reasons for this. The first is that moats are acting as the new retention ponds and are catching a lot more run-off than they had anticipated. If that is true then the water will eventually be absorbed and the moats will return to being dry. The other possibility is that there is a pan of clay underneath the moats or a stratum of limestone. If that is the case then the moats will continue wet except during very dry spells.

Either way Scott is glad that they had all the foundations and foots dug and poured before the rain and that he and Glenn agreed to widen the base from the original three foot they had intended. The deeper footings and the wider base will make the wall much more stable in the long run even if located against a moat that has water in it year round. But the now wet moats did make them have to re-think the exterior water catchment thing that we were going to have. There is just too much risk of contamination not to mention it would be too hard to get to if the moats remain wet or are wet when we need access to it. The problem is that it was built as that section of the curtain wall was poured. Scott plans on filling it in with rubble and sealing it up. He doesn't want to take the chance of anyone on the wall walk falling in and getting hurt or drowning. It is also designing secure caps for the interior water storage towers. The caps have to let water in but need to keep debris, animals, and people out. He thinks the has it finalized but wants to go another couple of days to see if anything else comes to mind.

Mr. Wallace left on Sunday as well. We tried to convince him to stay a while longer and rest up but he wanted to get ahead of the rain. We filled his belly at breakfast and Betty insisted on putting some things in a sack for him to take for the road. Not even Dix got cross-eyed about that. One, we are in a time of plenty and two, the news he shared was invaluable. Dix invited Steve over on Sunday and I made crab rolls, stuffed potatoes, and peccadillo over yellow rice for a late lunch early dinner. He brought Shorty and the girls but Hunter stayed at OSAG to do his radio show.

Mr. Wallace had worked all over in the WV coal mines. His father and grandfather were in the infamous Coal Mine Wars back in the 1910s and were part of the first unionization of coal miners during the New Deal in 1933. He said that the unions were essential for getting safety practices and good pay for miners and were a good force in the community for a long time. But by the time he was forced to retire some of the union bigwigs were getting "too big for their britches" and they had forgotten what the union was for … the men … and not for using union dues for getting into politics.

After Mr. Wallace retired he lived on the outskirts of the Monongahela National Forest. When things started going bad, it started going bad all over. The big cities of WV were no different that the big cities of FL. West Virginia had another problem though. WV had one of the lowest per capita incomes in the US; a lot of people were just plain poor. When the economy got tight there wasn't a lot of room to cinch the belt up because most people were already on the last hole. There was also a big dependence on public assistance in some communities; when that stopped people got hungry real fast. And poor health was also a problem. All of these things combined to allow NRS to sweep the state.

Those that have been able to tough it out and take advantage of the areas of hunting and fishing that still exist in the state have become very protective of what they consider theirs. The valleys and hollers are often armed encampments and strangers approach at their own risk. Some of the larger mining operations were taken over by the US military or by the NRSC. There are still a few independent mining operations but they sound almost like city-states, operating outside of any kind of government regulating, making their own trade agreements, etc. In those places the boards of directors rule with a harsh hand and things have reverted to pre-union practices and in some cases abuses.

When Mr. Wallace got news that his last son died in a mining accident and not having any other close family he decided he was going to retire in Florida, or at least go visit for a long time. The man sounds like he occasionally slips into the early stages of dementia but it could just be the sum total of all he has experienced in his life up to this point making him eccentric. Waleski and Iggy agree there is nothing physically wrong with the man except the natural aging process and what he told us was too plausible to at least not consider it to be a version of the truth out there.

His walk south has been haphazard. He walks when he feels like, sleeps when he feels like it, and eats when he can. At first he completely avoided all cities. Name any major city and it is just as bad or worse than Tampa. Mr. Wallace actually said Tampa was better off than many locations he had heard and seen.

The winter weather had been devastating for many people up north. Many survived the zombies only to be taken by the cold. When the weather froze the zombies caught out in the open would freeze as well. You could tell a frozen zombie by the swollen look it had about it … the human body is mostly water and when water freezes it swells. Some zombies would split open during the freezing/thawing process and this in turn sped up the decomposition process and sometimes it seemed to damage the brain as well, though not enough to kill them.

Smart communities learned to take advantage of the hard freezes and used it has a time to sanitize every zombie they came across. It was also a time of learning because not all zombies completely froze those many slowed down. Since a zombie never had to stop and rest the constant movement kept the blood pumping and it took a prolonged freeze to actually stop them cold. Partially frozen zombies were still zombies and still dangerous. More than one person was bitten when they forgot to take the same precautions that they would have had the weather not been so cold.

Frozen zombies didn't mean dead zombies and there were even more to deal with in the Spring because their numbers had been added to by people that had starved to death over the winter. And there was rampant stories of cannibalism … both of human remains and in worst case scenarios of zombie remains. Lots of illness from that including rumors that cannibalism itself led to cases of NRS infection. This time it was the non-infecteds doing the biting (and chewing) and they ingested enough of the virus to kick off the conversion while they were still alive. Mr. Wallace said he'd actually witnessed a case like that it was a long, hard way to die. He had gotten thrown in the drunk tank by a local sheriff during a bar brawl outside of a place called Goose Creek, South Carolina. That's when he learned to stay farther away from the cities.

When he got tossed onto a federal work train after that and wound up in Alabama where rumors of battles circulated every day. Kentucky and Tennessee were hot spots for a while until the NRSC learned that not even the full force of the NRSC troops could compete against the generational memories of backwoodsmen who knew every rock and tree and crevice in their area. The NRSC now stick to the cities and leave the rural areas alone, or they do unless they want to lose a lot of men.

The skirmishes these days are smaller than they were at the beginning of the Second Civil War. Most men (and women) fall from sharpshooters or from injuries sustained from tripping booby traps. Both sides are losing people to disease and not just NRS … cholera, dysentery, and measles have made a comeback. In the deep south along the Gulf Coast of Louisiana and Mississippi Yellow Fever and Typhoid are back.

There is very little interstate trading going on. The NRSC intentionally destroyed most of the interstates and highways that crossed state lines trying to prevent large scale troop movements by members of the Quarantine Zones militias. Rumors have surfaced that it was also to hamper the US military but it doesn't seem to have done much in that respect.

The US military presence is negligible in most places. Many of their bases have been destroyed and/or abandoned. Ft. Campbell outside of Clarksville, TN is supposed to still be operating but it's been locked down so tight not even the NRSC dares to go anywhere near it.

Most large scale farming operations have failed. The machinery and chemicals that kept such businesses going are no longer accessible. Families who can have gone back to raising much of their own food … at least the families outside of the Free Zones do. Inside the Free Zones there are so many rules and regulations and "taxes" on what the garden produces that most people have chosen to continue to rely on NRSC distribution points for their food and other goods. Even foraged food and hunting is heavily regulated and the NRSC does spot inspections to make sure that proper redistribution of goods is occurring.

Things are pretty quiet right now compared to the last fall and this spring. A lot of people seem to be sitting back and licking their wounds and having and adjustment reaction that makes them see that they need to stop waiting on things to go back to the way they were before. People are beginning to realize it isn't happening anytime soon.

Politically the lines are firmly drawn. The Free Zones appear to be completely controlled by the NRSC. Some places in the Free Zone still have electricity though it is rationed but only in the population centers. The power grid collapsed so towns that bought rather than produced their own power are out of luck. Even those that produced much of their own power, like Tampa, are out of luck because the delivery of base elements to produce the electricity (like coal for coal powered plants) stopped. There is also the issue of repair parts for broken components in the system.

Home-grown and foreign-born terrorism added to the problems. So far there haven't been any nuclear or dirty bombs but there has been widespread destruction of transfer stations, water treatment plants, dams and waterways, locks, and all sorts of transportation hubs.

Mr. Wallace said he heard of a major earthquake in California but how big or how much damage was done he doesn't know. Doesn't seem to care either as his opinion of the state wasn't very high.

Mr. Wallace said if we were heading for Georgia be very careful of crossing the state line in any number. Apparently they are having problems with incursions from salvagers and people are getting twitchy. The countryside remains mostly peaceful but communities have cut themselves off and don't like outsiders. Avoid the NRSC like the plague as they can take you and put you in a work camp for an indefinite period of time because habeas corpus has been suspended.

Those are the highlights. He gave Dix more specific information about a few locations but I had enough to think about. I feel less and less like my brother ever made it to Kentucky. I just don't see how he could have with two young boys in tow.

There's more I could write tonight, like how the Native Grove is putting out so much fruit we have to give some of it to the hogs to keep it from rotting on the ground. Like how I caught James stuffing his face with blackberries and how I didn't say anything about it because he is growing so fast and working so hard that he is painfully hungry almost all the time though he tries not to let it show. Like how I finally boxed up the last of Bubby's things and put them in my hope chest … and I didn't cry. Like how my oldest daughter will soon be 18 and I haven't got any idea how to celebrate her officially being an adult when she's been acting like one for months now. Or like how I'm secretly scared to death as the day is quickly approaching for Scott and James to leave.

Instead I think I'm just going to bed.


	258. Day 309

_**Day 309 (Tuesday) – June 4**_

Finally things are starting to dry up a bit. Of course now it is like a sauna no matter where you go. It is so hot and humid that even the kids are moving slow. And the mosquitoes are terrible. People are practically bathing in our homemade repellents without much effect. The only alternative has been to wear long sleeves and pants which only makes this heat worse. How on God's green earth did the Florida pioneers put up with this?!

The harvesting of the last two days has been devoted almost exclusively to fruit. That is probably part of the problem with the mosquitoes. The native grove is going crazy: soursop, custard apple, zapote, karanda, white sapote, kei-apple, cherry of the rio grande, grumichama, pitomba, Surinam cherry, governor's plum, lychee, acerola, mango, sopadilla, , strawberry guava, downy myrtle, tamarind, calamondin, key lime, Persian lime, and carambolas. Betty, the girls, and I are keeping up only because we added the second AldeaFuel stove. Its crazy.

Then a group from Aldea and OSAG went back out to the U-Pick farm area and brought back bushels of peaches, nectarines, plums, and anna apples. I nearly cried when I saw the apples. I had to eat one warm right out of the basket. The fruit isn't pretty like you would find in a grocery store because there hasn't been any spraying, but it tastes just fine … more than fine. Mr. Morris keeps hanging around to see if we are going to have any leftovers that he can use for his mash.

After school I've had the kids picking blackberries and blueberries. Tomorrow Scott has agreed to let Angus take me and a couple other north on US41 to see if the blueberry Upick field up there near SR52 made it or not. If it did I'm going prepared to bring back as much as we can. Blueberries are nutritious and are especially good at promoting brain health and urinary tract health. Rose tried to tell me I was reacting to Bubby's death by going a little overboard with the "healthy diet" research. Maybe so, but it certainly doesn't hurt to try and prevent something before Waleski has to step in. We really don't have anyone to depend on any more and some of the stories I'm hearing of third world conditions around the country makes me even more determined that it is not going to happen to my children and to my community … not while I can do anything about it.

My pineapple plants are putting off babies as well. I won't be able to keep up with the demand for pineapple for a few years yet but Scott has promised me before the weather gets cold he will build me a greenhouse that I can devoted to pineapples so that I can get them started.

Starting pineapples is fairly easy. Cut off the top of a fresh pineapple, about two inches below the leaves, with a sharp knife so that the surface is level and flat, with no jagged edges. Remove some, but not all, of the leaves and let the pineapple top dry out for a few days before planting it. Start the pineapple in a shallow dish or container that has adequate drainage holes. I use old aluminum pie plates that I've poked holes into. Fill the container with a starting medium such as vermiculite to within a half-inch of the rim. Imbed the pineapple one inch into the vermiculite (with half the fruit below the surface and half the fruit above the surface).

Place the container in a bright, but not sunny, window or shaded greenhouse area. Don't put it outside or some kind of varmint will get it. Keep the vermiculite just barely moist — never soggy. If humidity is very low (not the problem for us right now), put a plastic bag loosely over the top and remove the bag when new green leaves appear. The pineapple needs bottom heat to grow properly. You don't want to cook it but you don't want it to have cold feet either.

A few weeks after planting, new green leaves should start to appear. That's the signal to replant the pineapple. You re-pot it in loose, porous soil. If you use standard potting soil, add some sand - about a handful of sand to a 6-inch pot. Use 1/3 each packaged soil, sand and small fir bark. You can also pot in fir bark alone. It allows air to reach the roots.

I plan on potting every pineapple top from the fruit my current plants are making. It will take two years for a plant to make fruit and that's under the best conditions. I've never had all of my pineapple plants making at the same time. But by planting every top and having most of them survive I could double my production every year … or close to it.

My own personal dooryard fruit are also making. My fig tree is going gang busters but I'm having to beat off the blasted raccoons. Lucky and her brood keep the squirrels in check … and the fact that we all hunt them as well … but the raccoons, though more cautious than they used to be, are still a pain in the rear bumper. One fell out of the tree in broad daylight today and scared wiggle nearly to pieces. Pup lets her waddle around in the yard a bit but when the raccoon came out of the tree she ran off with Wiggles and growled and snapped whenever anyone would get near. It was while before Sarah could get Pup to calm down which is totally unlike her. Pup kicking up a fuss upset the other dogs and I swear if they didn't put together a posse and start hunting that raccoon. It was the strangest thing I've seen though I suppose it would fit in with their pack mentality. Huey, Dewey, and Louie treed the raccoon and Angus shot him. He's a fat one … one of the biggest I've seen in a while … and Betty took him after Angus skinned him and we'll be having BBQ'd raccoon for lunch or dinner tomorrow.

My passion flower vines are making as well. I made a couple of passionfruit cakes for dinner. They weren't bad but everyone kept trying to figure out what the flavor was.

First you start by soaking the top and bottom of a clay pot in water for at least 15 minutes. Then you fix the batter. For the batter you put together the dry ingredient for a moist white cake … or use a boxed cake mix if there are any left in the pantry. To this add a small box of lemon gelatin powder (Jell-O), two teaspoons of vanilla extract, three egg whites that have been whipped, three-quarters cup of water, and one tablespoon of olive oil.

Line bottom and up sides of pot with waxed paper. Pour in your batter. Cover, and place in a cold oven, not a preheated one like you normally would. Set temperature to 400. Bake for 45 minutes or until the cake springs back when touched.

Meanwhile to prepare topping, combine six ounces of passionfruit juice, two cups of powdered sugar, three tablespoons of lemon juice, and one-quarter cup of water in a saucepan. Stir over medium heat until the sugar has dissolved. When the cake is done you remove it from the oven and prick the top all over with a fork. Immediately pour fruit juice mixture over top. It isn't a fancy dessert but it is very yummy. I used to be able to buy the passionfruit juice in a jug at the grocery store; I guess those days are long gone, kinda makes me sad.

Johnnie so lonesome. Padric and Al try and do their best but sometimes Johnnie, as young as he is, just goes off into a corner and cries. He misses Bubby. We all do, it is surprising just how much noise that boy made and how much space he took up in our lives. We are all doing better, getting used to it, but Johnnie continues to need extra help. I worry about him and with Scott going away soon this isn't going to make it better. Scott briefly mentioned maybe taking Johnnie with him and it nearly turned into a fight. I may have to suffer Scott and James going but no way am I going to watch Johnnie go off too on some dangerous expedition that doesn't really need to happen.

The corn is drying well despite my original worries. I did lose one ear out in the field but otherwise the extra drying in the oven is only helping things along even more. And today I started picking the white shoe peg corn as well. Scott just grumbles because he can't have any but last time he tried to eat corn he paid for it with a pain in his gut for almost a week. Waleski told him no more which I'm glad for. I hate for him to feel deprived but I hate him hurting even more.

The curtain wall is finally making headway again. Yesterday it went pretty fast because they had prepped so much during the rain. The extra forms are also helping them to go faster. The Front Gate is complete as well. It is larger than our other front gate which now needs to be widened or dismantled. The old front gate is only big enough for some of the equipment to drive through up to say a school bus size … Juicer could squeak in but had to go slow. The new front curtain gate is big enough to allow Glenn's semi through with the flatbed attached to it and loaded down. Scott's a little worried about where the old road meets the new gate so eventually he says he'll have to dig that area out, put in more rebar and re-pour it to prevent a ditch from forming that will eventually lead to cracking of the gate road foundation. A lot is going to depend on how often the big equipment goes in and out of the gate. It's a weight and wear and tear kind of issue.

The gates may be finished but the towers are not. I mean the outside of the towers are, there just isn't any finishing being done on the inside yet. The steel and wood floor joists and the staircase have been laid for each of three floors but the actual floors have not. The "fourth floor" is actually the top of the tower where the crenellations are and that has a floor but that is because it was poured at the same time the crenellations were set in place. Even if the curtain wall is finished before Scott leaves he will still have a lot of work to do when he gets back. Rome wasn't built in a day and Sanctuary obviously isn't going to be either.

I'm hitting the hay early tonight. Angus wants to leave at daybreak in the morning to go after those blueberries. I think he is hoping to bag a couple of deer before we start making a bunch of racket. Deer love blueberries and you can never have too much venison in the smoke house. Reba was saying we were running low on sausage today.


	259. Day 310

_**Day 310 (Wednesday) – June 5**_

Except for a few of the unfortunate realities that we face these days, it was a lovely and productive trip. We were all loaded up and in the truck and as soon as it got pink we pulled out with Angus driving the F350 with James riding shotgun and Charlene, Betty, and I along to do the picking.

Angus got us to Hudson without too much trouble but we had to drive through the burned over area with was a little depressing. It was a lucky thing that Hudson was a straight shot out SR52 and then a little north on US19. If we had had to get off the main road too much we would have been lost. Too many of the landmarks had disappeared.

I was getting discouraged that we'd find anything once we got to Kitten Trail Farm but amazingly the fire looks like it passed to the south by about a half-mile. I was so excited to find that the bushes were intact that I hoped out and for the first time I can remember I heard Angus snarl at me. Not that I didn't deserve it, I hadn't given him a chance to check things out before I opened the door. Angus takes his responsibilities seriously.

Finally he was satisfied that everything was OK and we got started picking. The berries had started getting ripe at least a week ago and had dropped some but even with that we got between five and teen pounds per bush easily. It was no problem to pick about fifteen pounds ever half hour per person. We'd been picking for an hour before we saw our first zombie. Angus and James sat on the hood and cab of the truck and shot zombies so that we could keep picking blueberries. The more they shot the more that they could see wandering through the farm coming our way.

It was three hours before Angus declared the zombies were getting too numerous and that we needed to get gone. We had loaded the berries as we went and between the three of us we picked about 250 pounds of berries and we could have picked a lot more. We passed the info along to Aldea and OSAG and they might head out to do a run there as well. If they do I know that Dora and Mr. Choi will be eager to go as well.

We were on our way back to SR52 when we blew a tire. Angus and James got it changed but it wasn't fun. Angus strained his knee and I could tell he was in some serious pain. Luckily I had dumped some Aleve into my fanny pack for my back but it worked just as well for his knee.

Angus had James drive a little bit while the Aleve went to work and that's when we spotted the boats off a makeshift pier. At the edge of the pier were a lot of people. Angus had James pull us a little closer and a man with a shotgun came out to meet us. Angus was a good haggler. Twenty pounds of blueberries got us coolers of shrimp and crabs but once we traded it was straight back to Sanctuary with no further incidences.

Dante' nearly cried when he saw the crabs and shrimp and volunteered to do a crab boil. Crazy Cajun. You don't really think us women are going to turn down a night off do you? The shrimp and crabs that didn't get used will be canned tomorrow.

We've also got a boatload of berries to do something with tomorrow. I want to can at least half of them but the rest can be dried. Tonight we made a large blueberry cobbler. I wish we had thought to make ice cream for it but I was actually tired after the trip and didn't give it enough thought.

Angus hasn't felt good at all, his knee is swollen and we are trying to get the swelling down by doing twenty minutes of ice and then one hour of warming up, another twenty minutes of ice and then another hour of warming up. He says it feels better but I don't know if he is just saying that because he doesn't want Ski to touch again or what.

The day was pretty productive for Scott as well. Had a little trouble with Johnnie but nothing out of the ordinary. I actually took his normal sort of misbehaving as a good sign. Scott said that they may get most of the curtain wall completed before their departure date which is tentatively June 17th. I am not thrilled but it gives me a couple of more days to work on the food. I'm trying to bag as many meals individually as possible so that each person can take a "grab and go" bag in case they need to dump the vehicle for some reason.

I want to make their load as light as possible in the event of ditching the vehicle also. Even James could haul around a fifty or sixty pound pack but I don't want them to have to. They won't be sleeping outside any more than they have to so abandoned buildings will be important for protection from the elements and from the zombies. If they have to they can sleep sitting up in the truck but that option leaves a lot to be desired.

Slowly we are pulling together all the elements of what they will need. The food is really the last thing … that and the armor. Dix and Jim are fitting them with the lightweight body armor that the NRSC had with them. But in my opinion it didn't do those troopers too much good so I'm hoping they aren't counting on it. Scott calls it a line of a defense and not the line of defense. I get the difference but it doesn't necessarily bring me any comfort.

I wish I could write more but I'm just too tired. And tomorrow is going to be a full day of cooking and canning.

A funny thing did happen; I caught James giving a kiss to Charlene. They didn't know I was there and they were so serious I couldn't embarrass them. It was James that actually told Charlene that they had to be "circumspect." He actually used that word. I had the hardest time not laughing. Charlene agreed and said that things were too crazy and they "needed to keep their heads" but that she hoped he would still feel the same way about her when he got back from his adventure. Then a little more of the mushy stuff from my son and then they walked back to the house like nothing unusual had happened.

I know it sounds like I'm making this stuff up but I'm not. Watching your son say stuff like that makes you realize he is growing up … and growing up in a good way. Of course, tomorrow could be different but I'm at least glad to see they are both aware they need to use some self-control. I know Scott has been talking to James about it and I've brought it into the conversation a few times with all of the girls but particularly with Rose and Charlene.

I don't think I could bare a repeat of Josephine's predicament or what Dante's family went through either. I'm not saying it would be the end of the world but it would certainly feel like it for a bit. Scott and I aren't ready for the kids to go that direction yet. And definitely not with life being so uncertain these days.


	260. Day 318

_**Day 318 (Thursday) – June 13**_

I haven't written anything in a while. I'm tired down to the marrow of my bones right now and I'd be sleeping if I had any sense at all, but the plain fact of the matter is I can't.

It has been work, work, work, for days. The curtain wall needed to get to a certain stage before they could leave and I've had more than a small load coming out of the gardens. Some of the other corn has come in as well. I left off when the shoe peg corn started coming in but since we've had the red corn come in, the Indian corn, the white sweet corn, and the yellow sweet corn. The broom corn is in also but that isn't a food but … well, like its name says it is for broom bristles. The strawberry popcorn came in at the same time as did the Spanish peanuts.

The peanuts we furrowed into rows and they need to dry a little while longer then we'll winnow out the shells and I'll toss all of the plant matter in the composters. Thank God for Angus and the littles. They go out there and "play" but the truth is it is his way of teaching them target practice. The birds and the squirrels would clean us out without them teaching those pests that the garden isn't an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Scott told me that he has asked Angus if he would start Johnnie on more serious training than the slingshots and arrows. Angus was kind enough to agree and he has a Jr. 22 he's using with Johnnie – and some of the other kids that he thinks are ready. The deal is that so long as he follows the rules then the lesson can continue, if he doesn't Johnnie knows he loses privileges. It's not about whether he can hit anything; it's about whether he knows how to properly behave with a firearm. Scott wishes he could do it but he realizes that Angus has been handling firearms longer and has also taught kids before so it's better if he takes over that part of the littles' training and education. Better to start out the right way than to have to unlearn bad habits.

Angus said Johnnie is doing fairly well for his age. He's a little over-eager but is good about remembering all the rules and following through. He still can't hit the target every time but he is improving.

It's not just the corn and peanuts that have been coming in. The pole beans were going crazy but this heat is causing them to wilt faster than the last plantings did. Beside pole beans we've got some bush beans, lima beans, scarlet runners, and some dried beans that have made. Watermelons and a couple of the other heirloom melons like crenshaws have been coming in hand over fist too. Pumpkins and winter squash get added in there too. Most of the rows of sweet potatoes did really well. I had armadillos get to one row but that's another thing that Angus has helped with … and believe it or not Pup has too. She'll dig 'em out and shoo them towards the big dogs who then have fun trying to figure out how to get into the leather ball they sometimes roll into. Huey, Dewey, and Louie were particular funny the first couple of times they were trying to figure out what kind of varmint and armadillo was.

I've also had some fun introducing celeriac to some of our community members. It's about as far from a pretty root as you can get but it's pretty good eating. Didn't have as much trouble as I expected though. Maybe they've learned to trust me that I wouldn't put anything on their plates that was truly foul. Or, it could be the guys are just so hungry at the end of a hard work day that they don't care so long as it isn't trying to escape their plate.

It wasn't just the harvesting either, it was finding ways to preserve everything … and find room for it all. Some of it got pieced out to Aldea and OSAG but not all of it. Sanctuary is providing security for the bulk storage items like the corn, cheese, and items like that. We've also got the bigger drying oven and can process more at a time.

I've backed way off of canning every little thing that comes out of the garden. We have quite a few jars and lids thanks to Glenn's excursion and accidental find but at this rate we still aren't going to have enough to go more than a year (two at the absolute most) down the road. I'm certainly not going to trade anything in jars. I'm still trying to work out how much – if any – surplus that we are going to have. What looks like a lot now will get used up pretty quick in the coming months as it heats up and he have to wait until it is time to plant the cooler weather crops. I've also got the crop rotation to think of.

The corn field needs to have a ton of compost dumped on it and Glenn said he may have something even better for me that he is cooking up.

I also had to get all of the food pulled together for the first northern run, get it separated so that each man had two weeks of meals, and make sure they had all they needed to make each meal with. That made me nervous as heck. It was my one major contribution to the run and it was an important one. They were going to try and do some hunting along the way but since you never know what you might (or might not) get I just wanted to have some back up plans in place.

Then there was the celebration for Rose's eighteenth birthday. It wasn't a party per se, more like a get together focused around a more extravagant that usual dinner. There's not much that Scott and I could give her that would make sense with our current lives. The girls and I made her a couple of new outfits for every day wear as well as a couple of heavy duty smocks for use at the clinic. I gave her one of my mother's rings and we both cried a bit over it and Scott pulled out his mother's birthstone necklace and gave it to here because they shared the same birth month and she cried a little more. She and James are the only ones that knew Scott's mother; his dad died a month before Rose was born. It is very hard to believe how long they've been gone.

I think it was Johnnie that tore us all up though. He drew a picture of the whole family and off in the corner of the picture was what we thought was a bird but he whispered that that was Bubby up in Heaven. I swear, there wasn't a dry eye at the table.

And now they're gone. Scott, James, Iggy, Jim, and Ronan took off in the truck that Bob modified. They are keeping in radio contact but it is limited. They don't want a lot of chatter to give their position away. The GPS they were hoping to use is next to useless. The signal is unreliable. Its either being blocked, scrambled, or something is wrong at some point in the system. That's left paper maps and Scott's geographic memory.

They made it to Brooksville fairly easily but after that it has been one problem after another. Bridges are out, trees are across the road (accidentally and on purpose), road blocks, fire damage destroying landmarks and road signs, obvious signs of battles of some type, even buildings that have fallen into the road. They also ran into two small hordes, one of which chased them for quite a while causing them to backtrack quite a long distance.

I had promised myself that I wasn't going to worry myself sick, that I was going to have some faith and trust that while things might prove difficult that they will come back in one piece. But hearing tonight's report has wound me all up. I'm sitting on the lanai typing because the thought of sleeping in the bed by myself is actually nauseating. I've got to get a handle on things and try and pull myself together. Rose and David understand how I feel and Rose isn't far from being a nervous wreck herself, I guess she and her dad had a good long talk before he left. It took their relationship as father and daughter to the next level and Rose is terrified that something is going to wreck that up.

But I can't afford to watch the sun come up either. Tomorrow is going to be another hellaciously full work day. We are going to start the storm shelter construction – no small amount of physical labor – and I've still got a ton of corn that needs to be tried and cured. I also need to be able to keep my game face on for the kids and fend off any well-meaning sympathy from my friends. What I do not want to do is break down and cry. I may do it in the privacy of my room late at night, but no place else. I have to keep having faith. Or at least look like I do.


	261. Day 320

_**Day 320 (Saturday) – June 15**_

Why do things always seem to … I don't even know where to begin to write out my feelings. Yesterday really was busy. Glenn got this really cool idea for building storm shelters and as wonky as it sounded and looked in the beginning it appears to actually work.

Basically you are blowing up a big balloon … think a house sized tent … then you put some rebar framing over the "balloon." Then you start using the shot-crete equipment where you are blowing the concrete onto the frame. The "balloon" keeps the concrete from falling down. Then you smooth over the exterior of the concrete shell you've created. After a couple of days … the concrete shell has to set up and harden … you turn the big blower off that has been keeping the balloon inflated and pull it out through the hole that is going to be your door.

You can make them big or small, we've made a small barn sized one and an igloo sized one so far. Naturally the smaller structure was easier to do … certainly easier to smooth out … but the barn sized one wasn't too bad.

And I worked like a crazy woman at it too. Why? Because we haven't heard from Scott. Actually we heard from them yesterday morning saying that everything was fine and the traveling weather was going to be hot but fair. Then after that … nothing, nada, zilch, zip. It could be for any number of reasons so I'm trying not to panic but this is exactly the sort of thing that I was afraid of. Self-fulfilling prophecy? Don't know, don't care … all I know is that it is going on two days and still no word.

In addition to the igloo buildings Glenn designed we've had more corn come in. The Hickory King is so tall that not even our tallest men can reach the top of it … about eight feet would be my guess. Glenn meant to talk to me the last couple of days about some fertilizer ideas he had but we've been missing each other.

He has to come over tomorrow to check on the drying concrete and to make sure that the crews working on the different aspects of the curtain wall have all the supplies they need for their work next week. He's enjoying playing contractor at least sort of. I noticed he got out and played with the gnomes again. I swear, grown boys and their jokes. I'd love to be in on what is so funny. If I hear one more joke about how Saen and I finally found something shorter than we are my very short temper is going to explode.

Chris made a suggestion that I'd like to look into next season. He wanted to know about growing grain or sweet sorghum. The seed heads would feed the animals, could be ground into flour we could use, the leaves and stalks would make good silage for the animals and if we grow the sweet sorghum the canes could be squeezed and the juice boiled down to make sorghum molasses, very similar to what we are hoping to do with the sugar cane.

I guess I'll add that to my multi-page to do list. Right now I'm going to bed and I'm doing something I very rarely do because if I don't I'm going to be sick, get sick, and Lord only knows what else at this stage. I'm going to take a sleeping pill. Maybe I shouldn't need one. Maybe I shouldn't be so weak. But I can't get rid of this feeling that something is wrong … very, very wrong.


	262. Day 321

_**Day 321 (Sunday) – June 16**_

OK, I'm old enough to know firsthand that nothing in life is really fair but this is just too much. Still no word from Scott or the rest of the crew. I'm having a hard time eating today, too much acid in my stomach. As each hour passes by I'm more and more certain that something terrible has happened.


	263. Day 322

_**Day 322 (Monday) – June 17**_

Still no word.


	264. Day 323

_**Day 323 (Tuesday) – June 18**_

Might as well admit it, I'm heading for the loony bin. I've noticed recently that Glenn and a couple of the other men won't meet my eyes. I don't know if it is because they think I've gone off the deep end or if it is because they share my worries … fears.


	265. Day 324

_**Day 324 (Wednesday) – June 19**_

They had Angus tell me. They'd heard some noise of a battle taking place up near Lake City but it happened during a time that our men shouldn't have gotten there yet. But apparently there have been guerilla groups – soldiers, not the animals – heading south for some time looking for "draftees" and supplies.

The hypothesis is that our men may have run into one of these groups or may have had to abandon the vehicle to avoid trouble. Either way I'm exhausted from worrying. I can't eat, can't sleep. Something is freaking wrong!


	266. Day 327

_**Day 327 (Saturday) – June 22**_

Scott is home. Sort of. We lost two in the run north. I can't talk or write about it right now. My heart is broken.


	267. Day 329

_**Day 329 (Monday) – June 24**_

OK, I think I'm a little more composed now that we know that Scott is out of the woods. But …

God, help me because I'm way beyond the point of being able to help myself. We …

I can't even write this.


	268. Day 330

_**Day 330 (Tuesday) – June 25**_

God, please help me bleed off some of these feelings before they kill me. We've lost enough. My family is in turmoil. I don't know why you are doing this to us. Haven't we lost enough?! Why did you have to do this too?! And now on top of everything else you seem to be putting us into the middle of a war that sounds … OK Sissy, no tangents. Just deal with one thing at a time. That's all you can do girl.

It started the afternoon they left Brooksville. They did have some radio problems but it was something they planned to repair at the next stopping point. They had a Climber get up on the truck when they had to back track to avoid a small horde and it did something to the antenna.

Being more concerned with zombies and local populations and with no warning of any other kinds of dangers they drove straight into an ambush set up by the NRSC. Scott was injured and Ronan was so discombobulated that Scott was sure he had a concussion. Ronan's disorientation lasted nearly 24 hours of captivity … then he just had a headache … and then he got royally hacked off. Seems the big bald teddy bear can actually turn into a big bald grizzly when provoked.

Jim, Izzy, and James had escaped and were tracking them. Jim is pretty busted up too so no one knows exactly how they pulled that off without being seen.

The whole time they were captive they were being moved north. They even crossed the FL/GA line, went all the way through the state, crossed the Tennessee line, and went around Chattanooga which is a where Jim got some help to pull off a break out of the prisoners that the NRSC had. Chattanooga is a hot bed of folks lined up against the NRSC one hundred percent. The problem is that not all of the resistance factions communicate and what started out as a precision in-and-out maneuver basically turned into a brawl where three of the resistant factions went up against the much more heavily armored NRSC forces.

It was during the battle that my life changed … all our lives changed … forever. Scott won't give up hope but even Jim said he doesn't see how they made it. I suppose it is becoming clearer what happened. They were on the bridge you see.

Jim had made the decision to go in when the confusion started. Iggy and James were bringing the vehicle around. Then another group of NRSC shows up and they start using heavy artillery. Scott says that must have been how Iggy and James wound up on the bridge, they were caught in the middle of a retreat by the Resistance Forces. It wasn't a big bridge. Scott was looking right at it. The road bed couldn't have been fifteen feet above the waterline. And when it was hit, it disintegrated.

They had almost made it to the other side. But almost isn't good enough. Scott was in shock. They all were. But zombies had started showing up and the dying wounded had started to turn. It was a scene out of hell. The NRSC troopers apparently have developed a technique to demoralize the Resistors. They take a killing shot, but not a head shot. That leaves their comrades to have to sanitize them or be attacked.

From what Ronan said that is only making the RFs (resistance fighters) angrier and meaner in their own retaliations. They are disabling wounded NRSC troopers and leaving them to be zombie kibble … but the disablement is such that even as zombies they aren't going to be worth much. They break out teeth, cut tendons, remove limbs … the horror of it all is sickening on both sides.

All I can pray is that my son … James … died quickly and completely and his body isn't out there walking around. I've had nightmare after nightmare of that; of having to be the one that sanitizes him, only it is after he has come back and turned everyone else.

And Iggy. Poor Iggy. So lonesome and heartsick for his wife he could barely stand it. Wherever he is I hope to God he has found some peace.

Peace … there are days when all I want is a dirt bed so I can find some peace. But the rest of the children need me. And Scott. I don't have the heart to blame Scott for what has happened. He's blaming himself. Ski has to keep him sedated as much for that reason as for the real physical pain he is in. What is to become of him I don't know.

I feel like my world is disintegrating. How am I supposed to keep on like this?


	269. Day 331

_**Day 331 (Wednesday) – June 26**_

How does life change in so short a period of time? I wake every morning trying to find hope but by the end of the day all hope is lost. My faith is being tested in ways that I never even conceived of. As well meaning as some of our friends are it still hurts to be told "I feel your pain" or "I understand how you feel" or any number of things. Now looking back it's a wonder that Dante' didn't implode more than he did.

And I catch the looks. People are wondering if Scott and I are going to go the way of Dante' and his wife. No … no … a thousand times no. As badly as I hurt, as much as it feels like my heart has been clawed from my chest, Scott is … I don't know if there is even a word for what Scott is. Hurt, grieving, angry … none of those even scratch the surface. He, Glenn, and Dix confer on battle plans and strategies. This won't be a simple defense. Oh no, when … not if … when the NRSC come against us they are going to be facing a people that are not just going to be fighting; our stated goal is total annihilation of the opposing troops.

It … it … as badly as I'm hurting, as angry as I am … it still scares me where Scott is going in his head and heart. The men, James and Iggy were one of them, part of us all. Yes, James was my son but in a real sense he was also a part of Sanctuary's future and to have things happen like this makes everyone feel threatened. And there will paybacks for that.

Steve over at OSAG has started a map of troop movements. Their group was tracking general group movements but now they are getting very specific for specific purposes. They are sending out dummy signals to throw off the NRSC as much as possible. Driving them into known horde locations rather than away from them. They are contacting individual groups as asking that any and all activities in their area be reported. They've started building alternative communication centers. They are listening for "blank spots" where they now that groups used to exist and if no horde activity in those areas they are being marked suspected NRSC locations.

Glenn has the "works" going nearly 24/7 … what is coming out of there is amazing and frightening at the same time. They've figured out ways to make explosives that are quite ferocious and even nastier ways to deliver them, some are like booby traps and some actually work on the same principles as rockets. One of the reasons they built the towers the way they did was so that they could launch things from the very top of them.

Nasty spiky things are being set up all over our area. And the TTT … all of us … are getting ready for the worst. The smaller groups, in the event of what seems like the inevitable, have been invited to pull back to Sanctuary; similar to when the people in the surrounding countryside would bring their families and livestock to the local castle or stockade for protection from invaders or raiders. We have the room and we are laying in grass and extra wood to handle the influx of people. We don't broadcast those plans for fear of being overwhelmed by people from outside the TTT.

Whether Aldea and OSAG will pull back to Sanctuary isn't clear. Some of the contingency plans call for it but for strategy purposes we need the information that Aldea and OSAG can bring in. We also need pull back locations. We assume that the NRSC will attack Sanctuary first but to be honest we don't know. OSAG is a primary target because of the radio station so all three locations are hardening our communication centers as well as setting up some alternatives.

The kids are really confused right now. Rose refuses to talk about it and gets very angry if you try and force her to. As much as Rose and James irritated each other they were close and I don't think Rose is even near ready to admit the possibility that James won't be coming home. The girls are just … well devastated doesn't begin to cover it and Johnnie, he so lost he doesn't know what to do. He has this little GI Joe guy and he's named it James and it is always making some kind of sudden heroic return home. I don't know whether to stop his imagination play or to let it run its course.

And the work of Sanctuary must go on. We've all lost someone along the way. I thought the worst thing we'd have to go through was when Bubby died. Scott is having a backlash of grief about that as well. But every week we seem to go through the next worst thing. When will we have peace? When will we be able to rest?


	270. Day 332

_**Day 332 (Thursday) – June 27**_

What time wasn't spent harvesting the gardens today I spent moving stuff to the new storehouse and helping frame in the next two "bunkers" that will be shot-creted first thing in the morning. I'm exhausted but it isn't all from the work I've been doing.

Scott overheard someone … I still don't know who though I suspect Nana out of best of intentions … mention that despite all of the hub-bub and work we needed to remember to leave time to have a memorial for James. It ate at him all day and I finally had to get him out of Sanctuary for a while so we went to investigate an old tree fall to see if it was dry enough to bring in and cut for firewood. We got out there and the heat was so intense even though it was later in the day that we were both sweating buckets.

I got him away from people just in time. He had a meltdown like I haven't seen him have since we were first married … since his dad died … and even then I would have to say this was some worse. He is so angry … at everyone and no one, himself, the NRSC, generally and specifically. He even blamed me for a second for not demanding that he not take James and then just as quickly broke down and said he didn't mean that. He was kicking and banging on the tree so hard I thought he was going to break his feet or his hands. It took him a good thirty minutes to finally wind down and I think that is only because his heart wouldn't let him keep going. I was two seconds away from radioing for Ski and nearly did again when I thought he was having a heart attack or heat stroke. He was pale and clammy but he was all right after a little bit so it was mostly reaction to his meltdown.

Strangely we we didn't attract any zombies. Or maybe not so strangely as I know the patrols have reported significantly fewer zombies over the last couple of days. It always worries us when that happens. It usually means they are building up into a large horde.

It was another twenty minutes before I could get Scott fixed up enough to get back home and I took him straight to the house and made him lay down. He was quiet and as docile as a lamb and just slept and he is still asleep. Dix told me Scott is off guard duty for a few days so I'm not waking him up. He says that if Scott says something just to tell him it is to give him more energy to work on the build out of the curtain wall and towers. Glenn is also going to keep an eye on him. It is the same thing that everyone did for Dante' but it still … bothers me in some indefinable way. Scott isn't weak. He isn't going to start drinking, that isn't his style at all. But his heart is breaking and isn't the type to keep things inside.

I know what the problem is. See, Scott is so strong … like an oak. There is steel in him that most people miss because we keep so much to ourselves. Even here in Sanctuary, as close as we all live, Scott and I still maintain certain boundaries and keep our private lives private. But because of his strengths he has a few places he isn't very … very … bendy I guess you would call it. The absolute necessity of being a father to his kids is one place. God forbid that he and I ever split – to be honest only death will ever part us – but if we did there is no way Scott could tolerate another man taking his place in his kids' lives.

Another area is when it comes to safety for his kids. Throughout this whole ordeal our kids have been our driving force, our reason for going on when it would have been easier to just give up. Bubby's death ate away some of that perceived ability to save them from anything, at his strictly enforced self-confidence in that area. At the same time there was a way for him to say that Bubby's illness pre-existed us becoming his parents and what we did was provide a good end of life for him when nothing else was possible.

I remember how he was after the tiger incident. He and James both were so suffocatingly protective that it started getting on the girls' nerves. But now this … James … James being gone … it has just torn something inside him in an area he had little to no flexibility to begin with.

He won't even consider a memorial service for James and I'm not ready for one myself. But Scott's reasons aren't very realistic. He wants to believe that James and Iggy are alive out there some place or that at least James is. That if we give him enough time he'll make his way home. I'm not sure I can believe in that. I've got this empty spot inside me. It's the same empty spot where my brother and nephews are concerned. I have a feeling I'll never know for sure about any of them. I've now joined the ranks of so many others who have had loved ones simply disappear. The odds are not good, but it is no better to live in a fantasy land and believe that James will walk through the door at any moment.

Charlene … poor lovely Charlene … says she knows that James is still alive. She is absolutely positive that he is. She is so serene when she says it that I worry about her almost as much as I worry about Scott. When reality sets in I don't know which will break first nor how badly. The other kids are all in various stages of disbelief still. I just don't what to do. Kids shouldn't die before their parents. This hurts just too damn much.

As far as the rest of life goes, preparation goes on apace though it has lost some of the satisfaction for me. The amount of explosives coming out of the skunkworks is terrifyingly immense but Glenn and Dix both say that it will disappear faster than you would think possible. The garden and native grove are still providing us with enough food that we have plenty to preserve … dried, canned, pickled, etc. etc. etc. Mr. Morris has gotten literally gallons and gallons of honey from the bees and that is all put away in containers. Angus and Jim are bringing in wild meat to fill the newly enlarged smokehouse. They are also making high test alcohol for disinfecting and for some kind of firebomb thing they are working on. Betty has pickled enough eggs to satisfy the TTT three times over. Reba is canning butter and making cheeses at double the rate she was before. If we come under siege we won't have to worry about food for a long while.

There are so many things going on. No one ever truly rests anymore. Even if you are sitting you have something going in your hands. David and Chris have stocked every canal within Sanctuary's inner wall with fish, frogs, and crawdads. Scott and Dix have come up with even more wicked and diabolical things to shoot, pour and spray from the gates, towers, and wall. Glenn is a fount of the dirtiest tricks ever played on a moving vehicle courtesy of his years in Iraq and Afghanistan. He's also directing bunkers to be built at all three main locations to hold a significant supply of Aldeafuel.

OSAG is setting up some … I don't know what you would call it but it amounts to getting "triangulated signals" so that we can find the positions of radio signals. The folks at Aldea are doing lots of things too … drying fish, keeping the rice field flourishing, building their own protective structures but camouflaging them so that they aren't visible except on close inspection.

And our satellite community members also do their share of work. Mr. Choi's group will be our archers and we've got barrel upon barrel full of arrows stored for every eventuality imaginable. Kim is weaving strong and durable nets with bits of metal in them. Dora and her kids are making soap and, under the direction of Ski and Kim, making gauze and bandages for the Clinic. Our first aid supplies are nothing that we can take for granted. Some of Dora's kids come every day to work with our littles to process water into every container that we can spare. Dix has finally made peace – or perhaps a pact is a better word for it - with Maya's husband Jeff. Maya will come here once the fight starts but Jeff is likely going to be doing some … hmmm … other stuff that I guess I'll find out about if I need to.

Scott is mumbling in his sleep again. I need to give him those pills Ski gave me to give to him in case he wakes up. He needs sleep to heal his body if not his mind. Maybe if I'm positive he isn't going to wake up in the night I'll be able to sleep too.


	271. Day 334

_**Day 334 (Saturday) – June 29**_

We're all getting exhausted. There are only so many of us yet so many things to accomplish. The garden is a multi-person job. Feeding everyone is a multi-person job. Taking care of all the animals is a multi-person job. Grounds work, skunk works, construction, child care, patrols and security, communications … I don't know how much longer we can keep this pace up.

Something is building. Something is coming. I just have the feeling down deep. I don't know if it is another horde or if it is the NRSC. Frankly it could be my own mental breakdown at this point.


	272. Day 335

_**Day 335 (Sunday) – June 30**_

No rest. Work. And work. And more work.

I miss my son. I miss …


	273. Day 336

_**Day 336 (Monday) – July 1**_

The communications black holes are beginning to appear much closer to us now. Steve has warned that we could be seeing the NRSC … or whoever is causing this mess … any day now. We've begin asking our satellite communities to move their belonging and animals inside the wall. We are cutting all the long grass we can and piling it in "haystacks" to feed the animals should it become necessary.

We are taking a page out of Angus' and Aldea's book and converting some of the storage containers into sleeping quarters.


	274. Day 337

_**Day 337 (Tuesday) – July 2**_

An unusual number of animals have been seen in the area. Not all of them are wild. The hyenas have eaten so well they don't even bother most of them. Mr. Morris has brought in fresh horses, mules, cows, donkeys, pigs, chickens and more to add to our current animal population. And we've taken in a lot of wild meat that is being processed. Thank God for the Cooler or we'd wasting as much as we could preserve the stuff.

The last time we saw animal movement like this was before the Hive. Isn't that comforting? Or maybe it was one of the Big Fires. I'm so tired every bad thing that has happened to us is blending together in my mind … and they all pale in comparison to the loss of my sons. First Bubby and then … then James.

Scott works until he nearly falls down in exhaustion, gets a few hours of sleep, and then he is back up and going again. The other men are the same, we all are, but I see desperation to his; a need to not think only act. He hasn't dealt with the guilt.

Charlene woke up last night crying hysterically. She swore that James was out there. She was like a reverse Cassandra, trying to tell us that everything would work out well and none of us believing her. I made her drink some hot milk and go back to bed and sleep. I won't destroy her fantasy, I wouldn't mind living it myself.


	275. Day 338

_**Day 338 (Wednesday) – July 3**_

It's begun. It looks like they might be trying a multi-pronged attack. Maybe they've heard of us. Who knows? Doesn't really matter I guess. We are as ready as we are going to be at this point.

Ears to the ground reports reveal NRSC troop movement out of the east, up from the south, and the bulk are coming at us out of the north. So far no word of them coming out of the west, reason unknown. All are ground movements. No reports of anything in the air … not so far anyway.

Jeff brought Myra at daybreak, kissed her … I guess they had already said their major goodbyes … and then took a large rucksack from Glenn and they both shared a very nasty grin.

The children are sleeping in the camouflaged bunker with a round-the-clock guard. We've moved all of their comfort toys and covers in there. It is going to be difficult keeping that many children in that sort of space for long. I wish Nana all the luck in the world and pray she is blessed for this.

We continue to work. We hadn't planned on being attacked on all sides so early in the game. It seems like they are coming from every direction but the main gate. I wonder … were there spies in the area? Our patrols never found sign of such a thing but it wouldn't be beyond conceivable that the NRSC has had highly trained scouts in the area or that they've been bribing locals.

Dix has already considered that last. He and Glenn are carefully orchestrating some things … not many people know what they are for sure, but the general threat is there. If there are any traitors they'll wish they had never been born.


	276. Day 339 - Part One

_**Author's Note**_ : Day 339 is in several parts. Hopefully this will make up for my long, unintended absence.

 _ **Day 339 (Thursday) – July 4 – Part One**_

The irony of this date escapes no one.

Shortly before daybreak the call went out. OSAG was attacked. Steve was able to get out one last broadcast from their main location and then they were shut down. He warned everyone within the sound of his voice what was going on … and paraphrasing a speech by Lyndon B. Johnson said the following:

 ** _At times history and fate meet at a single time in a single place to shape a turning point in man's unending search for freedom. So it was at Lexington and Concord. So it was a century ago at Appomattox. So it has been time and again in this country as its citizens have fought to secure our rights and those of our children. So it is today as we battle the NRSC, to not just turn them aside today but to turn them aside from their purpose forever … denial of our freedom. Freedoms that good men and women have died to win and preserve for over two centuries._**

 ** _Our mission is at once the oldest and the most basic of this country: to right wrong, to do justice, to serve man … to preserve the very foundations of our freedom._**

 ** _There is no constitutional issue here. The command of the Constitution is plain. There is no moral issue. It is wrong - deadly wrong - to deny any of your fellow Americans the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as set forth in our founding documents. There is no issue of States rights or national rights. There is only the struggle for human rights. Rights that the NRSC has repeatedly denied to people since their very inception … remember the internment camps, remember the involuntary participation in scientific experiments, remember the hidden agendas, remember the entrapment of at risk groups with their forever unfulfilled promises, remember the gross negligence in how they handled the money we paid in taxes, remember that they chose who would live and who would die by the denial of basic healthcare in the interest of the masses. Their very existence was predicated on eradicating the zombie threat … they have failed, have in fact caused irreparable harm and increased the zombie threat._**

 ** _They now claim to control all three branches of our government … but we were denied our right to vote. We were summarily disenfranchised because of our geographic location. They targeted us and set us apart. They called us contaminated. They quarantined us and took away our rights. They called us an acceptable loss. So then why should they have any say on our lives today? They took away our right to vote. Now we deny them the entitlement to reap from what we have rebuilt from the ashes of all they left us._**

 ** _The time of justice has now come. I tell you that I believe sincerely that no force can hold it back. It is right in the eyes of man and God that it should come. And when it does, I think that day will brighten the lives of everyone it touches._**

 ** _Whatever our fate is over the coming days, let it be as free men and women, unburdened by the yoke of those that would oppress us. Do not give in. Do not give up. We will prevail._**

 ** _You may hear my voice again, you may not … but never will the fight for freedom be silenced!_**

Seconds after the last words left the radio, we heard a horrific explosion, so loud and large that looking to the SE as the sun came up, a small mushroom shaped cloud appeared over the trees. May God have Mercy on the NRSC because we … will … not.


	277. Day 339 - Part Two

_**Day 339 (Thursday) – July 4 – Part Two**_

The explosion stunned us and then a strange and … and … I hate to even use the words but … extraordinarily wondrous thing happened. This power, this connectedness, this sense of purpose we had been feeling as individuals began to multiply and expand. The bonds we felt strengthened and reinforced themselves. We now had one immediate purpose, the eradication of the threat posed by the NRSC. Others chose to follow them, bow to them, suffer them … we would not.

We couldn't say for sure what happened to OSAG, we still don't know. It may be days yet before we are sure. But the fact that anything at all happened is unacceptable.

We'd been working for days to make portable meals and to move our food supplies into the new bunkers that dotted the landscape of Sanctuary like a pox. Now we made sure that each man, woman, and child had a bag of food to go with a bug out bag. We did not intend to fall but we had a responsibility to be prepared to live to fight another day and to get our children to a safe location if it came down to an evacuation.

Everything was quiet, even the animals had the sense to refrain from make noise and calling attention to themselves. We had done our best to reinforce their enclosures. Perhaps they felt safer, or the dark was keeping them drowsy and quiet.

The skies were overcast and oppressive. I was running water containers about to make sure everyone's canteens remained full when I heard one of the young bucks ask Dix how far out he figured the enemy was.

"They're still at least three miles out."

"How can you be so sure?"

Dix looked at Glenn and he said, "Let's just say I've got twenty bucks on the little guys today."

About that time explosions could be heard from the three directions that the NRSC was approaching from.

"That would make it three miles."

I couldn't help it. "Glenn! You know, Saen warned me you get these moods. Now what have you been up to?"

"Crank it down Mother Hen … I'm a just havin' a little fun." And then he gave me that … that … that Glenn grin. And about two second later I was grinning right back. Only everyone else started taking a few steps back.

"Just do me a favor … don't stop. Whatever it is … just don't stop. They are going to pay. Pay for everything. For every pain they caused, for every pain they could have prevented but didn't."

"Yes ma'am … that is the plan."

I know maybe I'm taking this too far. It feels like worms in my psyche, this … this … unadulterated anger that I have towards the NRSC. They could have done something to make sure the medications continued to get through and if they had maybe my parents would be alive. They could have protected the health care opportunities in centers for the quarantine zones and maybe Bubby would be alive. They could have kept their nose out of the lives of the people they turned their backs on and maybe … maybe … maybe James would still be alive. They did none of those things. And now I was ready to make them pay.

By the time I got back to the aid station that we had set up as a distribution point for supplies another round of explosions. Glenn radioed down, "Tell Sissy that is two miles and from here on out they will find no mercy."


	278. Day 339 - Part Three

_**Day 339 (Thursday) – July 4 – Part Three**_

The two-mile mark was the point when the remaining stations were taken by everyone. The wall guards had been at their stations for a while. We'd been shuffling people around since yesterday, pushing as much as possible complete every conceivable task. But now, people found their final positions and held them.

All things considered it is a wonder I remember anything coherent of this day at all. The smoke, the noise, the heat, the smell, the screaming and moaning … it all melded into a warn on our sense and sensibilities that easily matched the battle being waged outside the wall. Things, points, movements stand out in bright HD … both the milestones and the headstones.

I acted as a gopher for the command center, running messages here and there as land lines failed. Fetching and carrying as necessary. Everyone knows me. Everyone knows Scott. Scott would have had a battalion of cows if I was given a wall position in this battle. At the same time I needed to be in the thick of it, doing my part, knowing what was going on; anything less than that would have been unconscionable for me.

That's how I found myself in one of the towers with Glenn and a couple of the young bucks as constant explosions could be heard from all around Sanctuary except to the west.

"Dang Glenn! You going to leave any for us to fight?!"

Glenn's reply is something I don't think I will ever forget. "I didn't design or plan any of this to fight them. Fighting implies that I want to go toe to toe with an opponent and see who wins. I'm not interested in fighting them. I'm not interested in "winning". I'm interested in killing them en mass, with as little risk as possible to our side. The closer all this comes to me slitting their throats while they sleep, the closer it approaches slaughtering them like animals caught in a cage that can't run, hide, or fight back the happier I'll be about all this. None of us wanted this. They've injured and killed us repeatedly, both by direct and indirect actions, actively and passively. They've treated us as guinea pigs, as chattel, as sheep to be shorn. They've tried to block our efforts to improve our lives, our efforts to do what we can here with what we have to solve our own problems. They've disregarded our lives and labeled us by their words and actions as having no value in their eyes. Now it's time for us to turn our eyes upon them...they've left us no choice but to do so. I have no mercy left in me for them; they've brought this upon themselves. A long time ago it was written, 'As ye sow, so shall ye reap.' Now it's time they receive the bitter and poisonous fruits of their labors. It's my intention to see that they receive a bounteous harvest and choke to death on it."

You could tell from the looks on the younger men's faces that this was a concept that while they agreed with it did nothing for the surging adrenaline flowing through their system. They wanted their pound of flesh and they wanted to tear and rend it, destroy it so that the threat could never walk again ever.

I was at the same time thankful for and horrified by what we had a hand in building. I had helped lay some of those Keebler boys myself, knowing more than just suspecting what they actually were. Then gunfire came from the east and the battle was engaged in earnest.

Dix warned everyone ahead of time, "Air power is what I'm primarily concerned about but after that comes artillery. Our walls are thick but as high as we've been able to build them, they will won't prevent a well-placed shell form getting over. The question will be how close do they need to get to lob a good one? That will depend on their equipment, their training, and how close we allow them to get. So is what I need the spotters to do, if you see anything that looks like it could throw a shell at us then you make sure your firing group knows about it asap. Spud gun crews, be ready to target any vehicles approaching with rocket launchers or the like. Spotters also be aware of any suicide runs. People or zombies, I don't care. Put 'em down before they get to the trenches. I don't care if the human ones look like kids; wasn't that long ago that some of you suffered from a baby face and we are now in a war for our lives and the lives of those we protect. This wall cannot be breached. This wall must not be breached."

It wasn't but a moment after the first gunfire that the first artillery position was sighted. Then the first shell fell inside our perimeter. Dix looked over at Glenn and said, "Time for those penguins to fly."


	279. Day 339 - Part Four

_**Day 339 (Thursday) – July 4 – Part Four**_

Those giant penguins were latest additions to the Glenn's maniacal menagerie that surrounded Sanctuary. Thanks to ceramic yard art molds he found our shaped charges were quite literally "shaped" like turtles on their backs, their stubby little legs the tilt rod triggers. I never understood Glenn's rather bizarre obsession with yard art but as the day progressed many of us came not only to understand but share his obsession. The turtles were mostly laid on the upslope of any approach and would either disable or turnover all but the most heavily armored vehicle.

Mushrooms big and small became land mines. Ladybugs became timed charges. Large chess pieces were detonated by radio. Deer and other woodland creatures were part of booby traps. It was Alice in Wonderland on LSD.

The penguins though were only finished day before yesterday because of their potential. They aren't explosive...they're worse. They've been filled with granulated Lewisite which Glenn explained to us as being an early version of mustard gas.

Glenn has them rigged to be set off remotely to fill areas with the gas. Just like with the mustard gas of World War One It's fairly easy to stop with a decent gas mask, but just a few minutes contact with skin will do the trick with the symptoms showing up a few hours later, death for the serious cases between 8-12 hours after contact; the less serious cases proving fatal from that time frame up through weeks later. Holes in protective suits, no matter how small, will let this stuff in. It was nicknamed the "Dew of Death" and it supposedly smells like geraniums. No one around here has been foolish enough to try it out and see.

It can easily penetrate ordinary clothing and even rubber. If it contacts skin it causes immediate pain and itching with a rash and swelling and large, fluid-filled blisters (similar to those caused by mustard gas exposure) develop after approximately 12 hours. Think severe chemical burns, the kinds we saw on some of the zombies that came out of the big cities early in infestation period when they were trying everything to stop the progress of NRS.

Glenn wouldn't even start manufacturing the stuff until he had enough gas masks and protective gear for every man, woman, and child in the TTT. It is also one of the reasons why some of the skunkworks production capacity was moved well off-site over the last two weeks.

There weren't a lot of those penguins, there didn't need to be. But there were enough. There were also a lot of dummy penguins. Glenn said that was to cause more confusion, fear, and misdirection.

It was only late yesterday that Dix and Glenn put everything together for all of us and even after that I was pretty sure Glenn had a few … toys … that were secrets of last resort. Why else would Scott be in possession of a big red "easy button" that Glenn said he wasn't to ever push?

After Dix said the penguins needed some flight time Glenn started looking at the wind charts and all the wind socks place in strategic locations. "All personnel, institute emergency action two. Repeat. All personnel institute emergency action two. You have a twenty count."

Even though we were inside a tower and well away from the expected contamination zone, we had our masks on and secured – checking our neighbor's to make double sure – in under twenty seconds. Glenn looked at his maps and as Dix called "20" he flipped three different switches.


	280. Day 339 - Part Five

_**Day 339 (Thursday) – July 4 – Part Five**_

 _OSAG4 TO HEN HOUSE. OSAG4 TO HEN HOUSE. DO NOT REPLY. EARS ONLY. REPEAT DO NOT REPLY. EARS ONLY. PERSONNEL HAVE REACHED OBSERVATION POINTS. PROCEEDING WITH PREARRANGED ASSIGNMENTS. OVER._

It was apparent from the unscrambled radio signals being relayed to us that our initial defenses had a devastating effect on the front line NRSC troops. We'd broken many of the Geneva Convention rules up to this point and we were about to break a few more.

What we'd used so far had slowed them down … dramatically slowed them down … and given them something to think about. But they still had forward momentum and while the very front lines were faltering, the troops behind them were still pushing them forward. Now it was time to add some psychological elements.

"If you have the time and aren't at great risk, go for abdominal shots...from the sides if they're wearing armor. Gut shots are fatal without a hospital ER...but it takes them a while to die, and it's very painful. They scream, they cry, and they beg their friends to come help them. When someone tries to come to their aid...shoot him in the gut too. If they don't try to rescue their wounded it demoralizes them, tears them apart mentally. They get stupid, and they get afraid. If their friend dies and reanimates, then they have the horror of putting him down. Soon their wounded will be afraid of their buddies...worried that they'll get put down before they die, before they turn. Their friends, if they do it, will start to hate themselves for it and may fight among themselves. All this is good, and helps up. "

The other thing this tactic would do for us is to stop their forward movement even more. It keeps them in place because they're afraid of coming out from behind their cover...and that's good. Because while you've got them stuck in one place agonizing over their friend dying in pain right in front of their eyes we'll be dropping steel rain on them with our artillery assets. If they do choose to move, we start it all over. The demoralizing effects were as effective as the bullets themselves.

Eventually, after about two hours, the battle turned into a "siege." They couldn't breach our defenses to come in and we had no reason to come out. The occasional patrol got a little close but due to the attrition of their officers and the fear and confusion of coming against a supposedly "primitive" force and finding out instead they had a tiger by the tail they couldn't muster enough force all at once to overwhelm us.

One of the weapons we employed with great success after we forced them to slow down and even pull back from the open areas we had cut was a "potato gun" style mortar. One of the "rounds" we fired is a variant on the old "flight of arrows" you used to see in movies like Braveheart or in some of the ancient Roman and Greek era movie settings. Simply put a flat disk (plywood, cardboard, stiff plastic, dried clay...anything stiff we could manufacture or scavenge) into the mortar first and then drop in a bundle of arrows (or reeds with metal points attached...no fletching required). Then we would fire. The "arrows" rained down on the enemy.

The other "special toy" that Glenn had devised was a mini-gun. This is the one that Jim and Angus like to fight over playing with.

There had only been time to build three … one for each TTT compound … and one may already be gone because it had been set up at OSAG headquarters. The guns are a variant on an air powered system. The originals use an air compressor and BB's; ours use 1/4 inch steel ball bearings salvaged from cars and trucks and use high pressure steam generated by the 90% concentration hydrogen peroxide coming into contact with silver.

Load the hopper full of ball bearings, and attach the canister of Hydrogen Peroxide. The trigger only allows the ball bearings to be fed into the barrels. You start the gun firing by mashing down on the rod sticking out of the canister. Once you've done that, the weapons barrels start spinning and spitting out steam at 3500 PSI (with ball bearings if you hold the triggers down, without if you don't), and will run for about 8 minutes before you need a new canister. Rate of fire (how fast it shoots) is around 3000 rounds per minute. The ammo hoppers hold enough bearings for about 3 1/2 minutes of fire. They rip through anything up to unarmored vehicles as far away as five to six hundred meters. On the armoured vehicles the rounds will cause damage to antennas and armored vision blocks (the windows).

The mini-gun is fired in short, ripping bursts. Preferably where you have concentrations of enemy on foot, or you can put long bursts into vehicles. Again, within it's range of 5-600 meters it will shred persons on foot, punch trough unarmored vehicles, and act like God's Own bead-blaster on armored vehicles by stripping off everything on the outside (antennas, wires, lights, vision blocks, ect).

Jim and Angus had decorated the thing with hammers and lightning bolts. I think Angus is bringing Jim around to his way of thinking.


	281. Day 339 - Part Six

_**Day 339 (Thursday) – July 4 – Part Six**_

And lest I forget … Jeff. I still don't know exactly what he did in the military but it was some kind of on-the-ground-big-mean-and-nasty. Every once in a while we'd see a zombie come out of the bushes with a dayglo orange "X" on it. Those were his work. Dix said he wouldn't do that for every kill but often enough that we'd have a good idea of whether he was still alive or not.

Dix and Glenn wouldn't talk about Jeff. Period. I don't know if it was part of the peace agreement or if they were protecting him or just what. Whatever he was in his previous life it was dark and scary … but he couldn't be all bad if Myra thought so highly of him. And I'd already witnessed how in love the two of them were.

I was able to see Scott occasionally as the day went on to make sure he was OK. It's not like we didn't take hits. We did. We've had rounds come down in the pasture, some of the unoccupied houses that we were rehabbing have been damaged so much that Scott thinks we'll be better off pulling them down and starting over. The old Wall of storage containers has taken three hits but only dented and not breached. The exterior steel doors on the Rear Gate are damaged and Scott and Bob had to spend time welding cross beams in place. The worst damage was to the original Clinic.

Dix didn't trust the NRSC - didn't trust that somehow, some way, an internal map of Sanctuary hadn't been created – so he evacuated the Clinic and its contents to one of the new domed buildings. Good thing, coincidental or not an artillery shell landed square on the Clinic and it is now little more than rubble and toothpicks. I've been chewing on that one most of the day … what if Rose had been working in there.

The other incoming shells did little more than hit dirt. Oh … and they took out one port-o-potty. That's been a little bit of a mess but since we emptied all of the tanks within the last couple of days not that stinky.

The war of attrition continued through lunch and then we noted some panic in the voices of the remaining sergeants and front line offices. A curious thing was happening. The troops were told that pull back time had been pushed back. The first couple of times this event was "pushed back" there wasn't really a problem but then the frontline NRSC troops kept asking for clarification or asking for permission to pull back.

ARGOS PATROL TO STATION 83. CLARIFY. PULL BACK HAS BEEN PUSHED BACK. UPDATE REQUESTED. DOES NOT MATCH ORIGINAL ORDERS. OVER.

STATION 83 TO ARGOS PATROL. NO UPDATE. NO CLARIFICATION. HOLD POSITION UNTIL CHANGE OF ORDERS.

ARGOS PATROL TO STATION 83. REQUEST PERMISSION TO SPEAK TO …

STATION 83 TO ARGOS PATROL. FOLLOW ORDERS OR FACE CONSEQUENCES. HOLD POSITION UNTIL CHANGE ORDER ISSUED.

Whatever was going on it was freaking the heck out of the NRSC. Dix was worried about air support of some type, possibly an air to ground missile from a jet or even a bomber run. But given current equipment and the size of Sanctuary, they should still be able to make a precision hit that shouldn't have been freaking the NRSC troops that much.

Then we started getting hints that whatever was coming was coming out of the west … the one place we had yet to have the NRSC attack from.


	282. Day 339 - Part Seven

_**Day 339 (Thursday) – July 4 – Part Seven**_

OSAG4 TO THE HEN HOUSE. OSAGE4 TO THE HEN HOUSE. TRIANGULATING UNUSUAL SIGNALS OUT OF THE WNW APPROXIMATELY TEN MILES OUT. REPEAT UNUSUAL SIGNALS OUT OF THE WNW TEN MILES OUT. MOVEMENT 5 MPH.

I came back in bringing food and drinks right as the last transmission took place. Scott was also there giving an update on the damages Sanctuary had sustained up to that point. Dix and Glenn looked at each other. I looked at Scott and he looked at me. I think I've learned enough over the last few months to realize that something moving five mphs wasn't anything in the air. Something moving that slow was either a very heavily laden vehicle or it was on foot.

The problem was the scrambled signal that OSAG4 was receiving. A signal suggested humans … NRSC in particular … but the rate of speed was more indicative of …

"! #$%^!" Nearly everyone in the room said at the same time. They were going to try and do it to us again. No wonder the troops outside the wall were freaking out. Most of their vehicles weren't anything more than cans of food waiting to be opened by overwhelming numbers.

We'd already noted that not every troop was wearing protective armor. That stuff was hot last time, I couldn't imagine how many cases of heat stroke they had already had wearing it in Florida's July weather.

"Ready the bubble bath ladies! We have some folks coming for a spa day." Glenn radioed down to the group in charge of manning the hydrogen peroxide canisters. Ninety-five percent hydrogen peroxide basically acted as an acid when it came in contact with skin. It would actually cause other organic matter like clothes and shoes to catch fire. We hadn't really wanted to use it as we were gearing up to except as a last resort. The damage to the wall could extensive. The alternative was worse.

If we were right, at best we were looking at a horde being channeled towards us. At worse we could be looking at a Hive. Neither possibility was a walk in the park.

Assuming the rate of speed remained the same we had two hours to prepare. And two hours to make sure that the NRSC was going to have something akin to a mutiny on their hands once their troops in the rear found out that the front line troops were being sacrificed up like lambs.

That's when OSAG4 … and OSAG5 and OSAG6 … began prearranged broadcasts directly to the NRSC troops. Scott … OSAG's Scott … had to be one of the survivors. One of his jobs had been to unscramble the signals of the NRSC and to start rattling their cage with misinformation. Only this time they would use the truth … troops were being sacrificed by their own command structure.

The other thing they were doing is relaying what was happening to ham operators around the country. We weren't just going to win for us … we planned on winning for everyone under the jackboots' oppression. A victory here would mean a revitalization of the fight taking place everywhere the NRSC was trying to assert control.


	283. Day 339 - Part Eight

_**Day 339 (Thursday) – July 4 – Part Eight**_

OSAG4 TO THE HEN HOUSE. OSAGE4 TO THE HEN HOUSE. WNW SIGNALS FIVE MILES OUT. REPEAT UNUSUAL SIGNALS OUT OF THE WNW FIVE MILES OUT. SPEED HAS INCREASED. REPEAT SPEED HAS INCREASED TO APPROXIMATELY TEN MPH.

That meant that instead of one hour we were looking at a max of thirty minutes before zed contact. There was absolute chaos in the ranks of the NRSC. They couldn't go forward or they met our fire. They couldn't retreat or they were attacked by the guns that ringed the area. The NRSC never had meant for any of their men to escape what for them was turning out to be a debacle. No live bodies to tell how the battle was truly lost.

OSAGE4 TO HEN HOUSE. OSAG4 TO THE HEN HOUSE. BIRDS IN THE AIR. REPEAT BIRDS IN THE AIR. COMING OUT OF THE NORTH. THREE MINUTES TO CONTACT! REPEAT THREE MINUTES TO CONTACT!

That's when things started getting crazy. OK, crazier than they had been up to this point. Whoever was flying the helicopters didn't really know what they were doing. Or maybe they just didn't care.

Rockets came down on top of the NRSC troops as often as they rained down on us. But not for long.

I've written about some of Glenn's other toys but not this last one. Glenn developed it in response to Dix's concern about an air attack. The mini-gun wouldn't really work too well unless a bird was in exactly the right position so that we wouldn't get any backsplash from the hydrogen peroxide. The mortar rounds weren't going to work as well either.

Glenn's solution? If I'm understanding it correctly it was an oversized version of the ones you could build out of parts at a hobby store. Think of it like a giant firecracker … a big honking nasty firecracker … one that would actually fly the direction we wanted it to go, at least for short distances.

Leaving Glenn in charge of tactical maneuvers, Dix ran up to the level that would dump him out onto the wall. From there he ran full tilt over a couple of towers and then ran up to the top of that tower. Rocket launchers were only installed every other tower and never on the tower being used for command. All we needed is for the command tower to be targeted and blown up.

There were only two choppers but two was enough. Those bad boys looked a whole lot like the helicopter in that Rambo movie … Rambo 2, 3, 5, 8? … I forget which one; Stallone was still a hottie which ever one it was.

Dix aimed. Fired … and missed. The cussing that came over the mike was creative.

Glenn shouted, "Stop cussing and tell me was it the design or your aim?!"

"A wasp stung me on the #$! Tell Sissy to get some #$%^ oil over here so we can burn these $%^&* #!"

Glenn trying really hard not to laugh despite being in the middle of a life or death situation hollered back, "I'll kiss it and make it better later! Get those damn gunships soldier!"

We all watched as Dix aimed again and KA-BLAAAAMMMMMMMM! They'd been flying in some kind of formation, one just to the side and behind the other. Dix's rocket hit them just right … and dropped both down into …

"Tower 2 to Glenn! Dix! Dang it … ain't y'all receiving?! I need some freaking ammo!"

"Tower 6 to command. Yo Command! Hey, we focus on the zeds or the troops?"

"Tower 4 to command. I wanna bash something and there are a lot of somethings down there to bash. Get me some more lightning juice and hammer balls up here!"

Glenn looks at me and says, "You have your wings on Mercury? Land lines to the ammo dump were severed in that last pass."

So I started running. Good thing I was in a whole lot better shape than I used to be. Chris and Ronan got ammo and I helped Tris down to the new Clinic. He had some metal shavings impeded in his back courtesy of the gunships.

I met Scott on the way up to deliver some more bags of ball bearings to Angus and Jim to hold them over until the crate could be hauled up to the top of the tower. He saw blood on me and I stopped him before he could ask. "Not mine. Tris had some minor shrapnel but he bled like a stuck pig. Take this water. You're sweating buckets. No, take it. I'm going straight back down after I hand this off. David took a ricochet across his ribs … nothing serious, just needs dressing … and Jack has some rock spurs in his cheek."

A quick kiss and he went off to the join Dix and Glenn and I kept running. Cease and McElroy were all over the place on the wall. Kevin took a through and through in his calf. Clay Jr. and where nearly knocked off the top of a tower when an armored vehicle broke through the line of zeds and headed straight for the Front Gate. I still don't know if it was a suicide run or if they were just that panicked. They set off a daisy chain before they even realized we had pulled up the drawbridge before the original attack took place. The vehicle wasn't too damaged … Glenn has it down as one he is interested in salvaging … but everyone inside was turned to pudding.

It wasn't long before it was obvious that the NRSC had once again underestimated the consequences of amassing that number of zombies in one place. We've talked it out and the only possibilities that we can come up with is either they are complete and total idiots or those in command change so often that they continue making the same mistakes over and over because no one gets a chance to learn from them to live another day.


	284. Day 339 - Part Nine

_**Day 339 (Thursday) – July 4 – Part Nine**_

Less and less gunfire was heard from the ground. The gunfire was replaced by the screams of grown men and women … and some not quite as grown as they thought they were when they signed up to "bring the anarchists in the Quarantine Zones back in line."

Eventually we were left with nothing but a sea of zombies for as far as our spotters could see. They set off most of the booby traps and shaped charges just from milling about. Did it phase them? Not one iota.

The only one of Glenn's toys that seemed to have the right effect was the booby trapped powdered lye shooters. They're loaded with powdered lye (sodium hydroxide) that we've refined to as close to pure as we can get. Each tube has a plastic bag with about 2 pounds worth of the stuff in it (and if you don't think handling that made me nervous then you're the one that is crazy), and there is a very small explosive charge behind it. The tubes were aimed so that the open ends were in line with where vehicle windows and hatches would have been when they passed. When the tubes are triggered the trip wire sets off the charge and whoever (or whatever) is in the way gets coated with the lye. Any that aren't wearing goggles will go blind from chemical burns, anyone who inhales or ingests it will suffer internal chemical burns, and it will suck moisture out of the air and begin eating away at clothing and skin.

The last is what happened to the zombies. And the coated zombies rubbed against uncoated zombies and until dilution is met the acid gets passed around like the clap at an out of control frat party.

Evening was approaching and things were looking bad … much worse than they had with the NRSC troops along. We were ringed by miles of zeds in all directions and outside of that was a line of big guns from the NRSC. Glenn and Dix were conferring with Scott to find out if we were losing any structural integrity, especially at the gates, when …

OSAG4 TO THE HEN HOUSE. OSAG4 TO THE HEN HOUSE. WE HAVE COMPANY. REPEAT WE HAVE COMPANY. THEY ARE MAINTAINING RADIO SILENCE SO WE AREN'T ABLE TO TRIANGULATE BUT THEY ARE … THEY ARE … THE ENEMIES OF OUR ENEMIES HAVE ARRIVED. UNKNOWN IF THE ENEMIES OF OUR ENEMIES ARE OUR FRIENDS. ID UNCERTAIN. REPEAT NO POSITIVE ID. WILL MONITOR FOR CLARIFICATION. OVER.

Listening to the squawking of the NRSC guns this was definitely something they hadn't expected. Now the big guns were the ones trapped between two inexorable enemy - the zombies in front of them and whoever it was who was behind them.

We didn't have time to find out who was playing Calvary … or even if they were playing Calvary. We had a major problem on our hands. The unintentional digging of the zombies as they scrambled up the inclines trying to get to us was scrapping away our foundation. You wouldn't think this would be a huge deal but think of thousands upon thousands of zombies scrapping and scrapping and scrapping with their hands, feet … climbing over top of one another. And it was happening so quickly.

We sprayed the peroxide down onto them and we must have dissolved hundreds but there wasn't enough HP in all of Florida to dissolve all the monsters at our door. Several people mentioned that if we could just cut their numbers down significantly we might stand a chance.

That's when Glenn looked at Dix and Dix looked and Glenn and shrugged. "You think it's enough?"

"Well, hell, man. If it isn't, it ain't for lack of trying. We ain't got nothing else."

Dix pressed the key on his mike and said, "Instituting emergency order number thirteen. Get your butts off the wall … right now people. Don't pass go, don't collect two hundred bucks. I want your butts in a bunker in under thirty … MOVE! Then Dix looked over at Scott and said, "Push the big red button."

Scott looked at Dix and then Glenn and said very straight faced, "But you said never to push the big red button. That it was baaaaad ju-ju."

Glenn said, "I did. But you need to push it now."

An incipiently grin began to blossom on Scott's face and I asked, "Why?"

Glenn in his ever understated honesty informed me "'Cause if he doesn't we're Purina zombie chow in about five minutes."

While Scott quickly wired the button into a heretofore hidden electrical panel I began to reach some very scary conclusions I asked him, "Gleeennnnn, what does that button do?"

All three men had evil grins on their faces but it was Glenn that answered, "It makes the bad guys go away Sissy. You don't want to know the details. Trust me. Just put your fingers in your ears...there _may_ be a loud noise and you may feel some slight discomfort."

I was so frustrated that I was the one holding back the obscenities this time.

Suddenly there was a BOOM! Which I found out later was the sound of about 1800 pounds of RDX going off... about the same as 3000 pounds of TNT. Despite the initial warning I still went top over tail and wound up under a desk on the other side of the room.

Glenn said, "Sorry...I'm not an explosives expert...I may have overdone it a bit."

Scott, laughing like a loon asked, "WHAT? I CANT HEAR YOU?"

Glenn, as bad as I'd ever seen him deadpan replied, "I said OOPS."


	285. Day 339 - Part Ten

_**Day 339 (Thursday) – July 4 – Part Ten**_

Oh my Lord. It's been hours and we still haven't finished cleaning up all of the body parts that rained down. It was something that might have been concocted if Stephen King, Clive Barker, Edgar Allen Poe, Laurell K. Hamilton, and a young William W. Johnstone had gotten together on Friday the 13th and done PCP. It is impossible to do justice to the anatomical abominations by using mere words. Intestines in the trees like a TP'd house at Halloween. Blood had fallen in such a fine mist that everything was tinged pink. Parts and parts of parts littered the ground like a macabre diorama. Fluttering in the light breeze that was all that remained of the explosion were … things … drapped here and there on nearly every surface.

And still there were zombies at the wall, clawing and trying to climb their way inside. More than a few people puked on their way to get back to their position. I know I did my share. But the explosion and result percussion had literally taken out nearly eighty percent of the Hive. The ones that stayed close to Sanctuary continued with their single minded purpose but our spotters reported that the outlying bands of zombies were beginning to lose their cohesion and focus. Small groups were turning west, just like they always seem to be, pulled like a slow tide to some other destination.

HEN HOUSE TO OSAG4. HEN HOUSE TO OSAG4. RESPOND.

HEN HOUSE TO OSAG4. HEN HOUSE TO OSAG 4. RESPOND.

We were just this side of worried when …

OSAG4 TO THE HEN HOUSE. OSAG4 TO THE HEN HOUSE. LITTLE WARNING NEXT TIME WOULD BE APPRECIATED YOU JACKASSES. WE DIDN'T BRING ENOUGH PANTS FOR ALL OF US TO HAVE CLEAN PAIRS. YOUR GONNA OWE US A DRY CLEANING BILL.

We were all a little bit adrenaline drunk and got a good laugh out of that one.

OSAG4 TO THE HEN HOUSE. OSAG4 TO THE HEN HOUSE. WE HAVE A PATCHED COMMUNICATION FOR YOU. SIGNAL SUCKS BUT IT IS THE BEST WE CAN DO AT THE MOMENT.

There was a few moments of hissing and crackling then we're all starring at the radio when …

YEEEEHHHAWWWW DAWG! DAMN THAT WAS A PURTY FIREWORKS SHOW! GOT ME A PACKAGE I NEED TO DELIVER QUICK TO MOTHER HEN. AIN'T GOT MUCH TIME. NEED TO RETURN TO MY MEN. THAT CRAZY GIRL AROUND SOME WHERE YOU CAN GET AT HER?

Scott and I could only look at the radio. My breath … I can't describe it. I was cold and hot at the same time. Scott was the one that picked up the mike.

I SWEAR IF THIS ISN'T WHO I THINK IT IS I AM GOING TO FIND YOU AND KICK YOUR SORRY … YOUR SORRY TAIL ALL OVER THIS STATE.

There was a moment of silence and then a quiet voice said …

WELL DAMN. THAT BETTER BE YOU OL' MAN. I GOT ME A LITTLE BIRD … DAMN BIG BIRD ACTUALLY … THAT SWEARS HE DONE SAW YOU GET BLOWN UP. HE'S SHOOK UP BAD. YOU PUT … YOU PUT HER ON THE … ON THE … DAMMIT …

I got on the mike and said …

YOU PROVE YOU ARE WHO YOU SOUND LIKE. YOU PROVE IT!

WELL … WHEN WE WERE LITTLE I HAD A BIG RADIO FLYER WAGON. YOU'D LOAD ME AND EVERY ONE OF YOUR DAMN BARBIES IN THERE AND YOU'D PULL US FOR MILES CLAIMING WE WERE PIONEERS AND WE WERE CROSSING THE PRAIRIE. MOMMA USED TO PACK US A LUNCH EVEN THOUGH WE WERE NEVER MORE THAN TWENTY FEET FROM OUR YARD AND DADDY HAD TO TIGHTEN THE BOLTS ON THE HANDLE SO OFTEN HE FINALLY WELDED THE BOLT IN PLACE.

All I could do was fall to the floor crying. It was Scott who asked …

WHO'S THE BIRD? GOD PLEASE TELL ME THAT …

It was quiet for a long time. I was shaking so bad all I could do was hold on to Scott's leg regardless of the filth that covered it. Everyone in the room seemed to have frozen. No one moved. No one breathed.

Then there was a crackling but there was nothing but garbled noise coming out. Then we heard ..

HERE BOY. I'LL HOLD IT, YOU TALK. …..


	286. Day 339 - Part Eleven

_**Day 339 (Thursday) – July 4 – Part Eleven**_

Not a sound was heard in the control room. Every eye was on the radio. I'm not even sure that some of us were even breathing.

DAD? DAD … there was the sound of near sobbing … DAD? IS THAT REALLY YOU?!

I cannot describe … the words just won't come whether from my mouth or from my pen. Scott was too over come to speak.

YES BABY. DAD'S HERE … HE'S … WE BOTH ARE … I …

Then my brother got back on …

WE NEED TO RENDEZVOUS MOTHER HEN he emphasized, reminding me … all of us I think … to keep identities secret. THIS RIG I'M DRIVING ISN'T GOING TO MAKE IT THROUGH THE MESS YOU JUST MADE BUT WE NEED TO GET THIS DONE.

After conferring, Dix directed my brother to the mass body dump area and Scott and I were loaded in one of the rebuilt 4x4s and we got out and headed that way as soon as we cleared the gate. There was still a major amount of zombie clean up going on but we've done this before. I wouldn't say it has become routine but it was scary without being debilitatingly terrifying.

Once passed the ring of zombies at the wall we had to maneuver through the potholes and debris littering the roadway. Cease was driving and McElroy was our guard. The reason that Dix sent them is because they'd be more likely to recognize unexploded ordinance and what gear looked out of place or even salvageable.

When we bumped into the dump cum graveyard there was the cab of a big rig idling but it looked like a cross between _Maximum Overdrive_ , _Transformers_ , and all of the _Mad Maxx_ movies, the first ones and the reboots. The cab had been tricked out with an ice-breaker wedge on front and armor plating on most of the visible surfaces. There was thick wire mesh over all the windows.

The two vehicles slowly pulled up closer to one another. I wanted to run out right away but McElroy wouldn't let Scott or I out until he'd checked things out. My brother was proving equally as cautious and it wasn't until he agreed to let McElroy step up to the truck that everything started moving more quickly.

Scott and I got out and James and my brother tumbled out of the truck. As big James is, his feet didn't hit the ground. Scott was practically carrying him. James is in rough shape but I'll have to write about that tomorrow. The sun isn't far from coming up and as soon as it does we have a boatload of work ahead of us.

My brother … he couldn't stay. Maybe wouldn't is just as good a word. He promised to try and come back soon but he's … different … from who he was before. We've all changed but in my brother it appears pretty dramatic. I recognize him and yet I don't. He was always a little wild and wooly but … my Lord he now looks years older than I do and I'm four years his senior. And there is something hard about him, like a man who has seen too much.

"Sis, I can't stay. I want to see you but I've got responsibilities. We're in a war here and … "

"But … "

"No buts Sissy. James will explain. I … I just can't. Not in the time we have and if I start … You'll understand once you hear. Now let me go while I've still got the will to do it."

And with that he was just gone.


	287. Day 340 - Part One

_**Day 340 (Friday) – July 5 – Part One**_

I didn't get any more written last night … this morning … about yesterday … whatever. I'm still all twisted around. And tired. And unbelievably ecstatic, floating on air, feeling blessed beyond words.

Today has been split between taking care of James; trying to keep everyone from climbing all over him and tiring him out, and doing my share to try and get Sanctuary back under a reasonable amount of control and in decent condition while we prepare for the next round.

And there will be a next round. From everything that James has told us the NRSC is almost desperate to bring the Quarantine Zones under control. They need the resources they left behind … and access to making new ones like out of the coal fields although the military is slowly putting "protection units" in place to deny the NRSC access. Some people aren't too happy with that, they got used to the total freedom and lack of any kind of regulation. I'll let someone else care about that … right now all my brain is able to handle is what I have on my plate today.

After my brother drove off … I'm still having trouble computing that in my brain … we had to carry James to the 4x4 and then we hot footed it back to Sanctuary. We were all thinking of one of the last things he had told us. Any big rigs done up like his was, don't assume they were the enemy … don't think of them as necessarily friendly, but they weren't necessarily our enemies. That "necessarily" part bothers me. We have a little more clarity today but the clarity is nearly as confusing as the lack of information was.

When we got back neither Dix nor Glenn were waiting for us like we expected. Boy, did they have their hands full. Sweet little Maya?! She's not so sweet when you set her off. Lord have mercy! Scott says it's official … we're twins separated at birth. Cease ran over to make a report and then backed out real quick calling, "Sissy!"

I ran over thinking my kids had done something drastic and dramatic and that I was going to skin me some hides for interrupting James' homecoming. Something drastic was going on all right. Maya had Glenn and Dix backed into a corner swinging a wicked looking, gore-covered mop at them and demanding to know where Jeff was. Whoa boy.

I have to be honest, I hadn't been thinking … but Glenn had. "Maya put that damn … thank you! Dammit, now we have to spray in here too. Look, Jeff knew the risks … dammit woman, stop slinging that damn mop at me! I don't know who is worse, you, Saen or Sissy. I got red-tailed once already for not calling home soon enough. Why build a damn army … we'll just sic you women on the NRSC and the battle will be over in no time!"

Dix didn't have much better luck but he did manage to take the mop away from Maya a whole lot more gently than he could have if he had wanted to make a point. "Maya, listen to me, Jeff volunteered. We didn't ask him to do this. He knew the risks. We even tried to get him to wait until we were more certain about what we'd be facing. We made sure he knew all the coordinates and we tried to make sure he had a path out in case … "

"Are you seriously telling me you don't know where he is?!"

I went up and put my arms around her. "Dix, you can see the state she is in. Just spit it out."

He sighed and then tried to grab hold of his own frayed nerves. "When the Hive started rolling through too heavy … if I know Jeff's skill level … he probably grabbed a vehicle and got outside of the potential blast zone. It's what I would have done in his shoes. He had also memorized the coordinates for the OSAG spotter locations. "

"But why hasn't he called in?!"

"Any number of reasons. It's possible his identity has been compromised. He may have piggybacked out of the area on an NRCS occupied vehicle and is doing further recon. Maya, the man's skill level is quite high. He wasn't burdened with having to look after anyone else but himself. He has the skills, he has the tools. Have some confidence in him and give him some time. You know he won't leave you wondering any longer than he has to."

Glenn in a sotto voice goes, "Not if he wants to keep the family jewels he won't."

Maya gave Glenn an evil look and then turned back to Dix. "I want to know as soon as you know anything; as soon as you suspect anything."

Dix nodded and she left to go help deal with the remaining zombies still wandering the battlefield. It so happens that Jeff has taught her a thing or two about handling a firearm and she's just as good with a gun as she is with a pair of scissors.


	288. Day 340 - Part Two

_**Day 340 (Friday) – July 5 – Part Two**_

Scott and I have spent as much time with James as we've been able to. When James is asleep – something he has been doing a lot of thanks to a little help from Ski – he is watched over by Rose and Charlene and Scott and I go back to working on clean up. Everyone has been very kind not to grouse that we aren't carrying our share of the load. Not that I thought any of them would under the circumstances but it still speaks volumes about how close we've become as a community. We've actually gotten a couple of strange looks for working at all … but we have to stay busy, it is the only way that we are handling things at the moment.

The other kids were allowed to come over twice to see him today but it exhausted James each time though he tried to stay awake for them. Johnnie didn't want to leave him at all and Scott had to be the one to peel him off and take him back over to the kids' bunker. I think it will be a while before Johnnie gets that James is home and not going anywhere for the foreseeable future.

I suppose now is as good a time to try and write down what James has been telling us and try and make some sense of it.

James had thought he and Iggy were the only survivors of the battle. How this happened we really can't figure out. The confusion was pretty massive. Scott thinks that distance and changes in position probably had a lot to do with it as did the lack of communication.

James and Iggy were on the bridge … just pulling off when the center of the bridge was blown. They were somehow pulled backwards and even though Iggy gave it all he had they still wound up in the water, but right at the shoreline. The piece of the bridge they were on fell into the water and then they slipped sideways. They were able to get out but James swallowed a lot of water. Iggy did too but not as much. It was when they were trying to figure out where to meet up with Scott and the other guys when they saw the explosions they thought had killed them.

James was in shock and not wanting to believe what they saw. As soon as the battle was over with they went to try and locate the men but they were captured by a group of Constitutionalists. In retrospect James said my brother said it was a good thing they were captured by a group of Constitutionalists and not by the local militiamen … Constitutionalists are hardcases but they still try and follow the rules of due process and all of the rights assured by the founding documents; the militiamen would likely have shot them on the spot. Unfortunately, in many areas it's become a matter of "if you aren't one of us you are one of them." The Constitutionalists are the bridge between the various peoples' movements going on and the military establishment already in place.

James, being young and idealistic, quickly came to identify personally with the Constitutionalists and because of the way we've raised him and his fondness for history and current events he made an impression on the hardcore men surrounding them. Iggy … not so much simply because his military background and refusal to get drawn into their mystique. On the other hand, Iggy's medical training and willingness to use it kept him safe.

What neither James nor Iggy realized is that the Constitutionalists have already heard of Sanctuary … in general terms. Our previous run in with the NRSC is the stuff of rumor and legend; a small community standing up against the NRSC and winning, yada, yada, yada. I hate it when that stuff gets romanticized. People were hurt and died and … well, I guess it serves its purpose some but it isn't near has wonderful as some people seem to imagine it to be. When James let slide that his mother had family in the TN/KY area the Constitutionalists thought it was a good way to check their stories … because they were heading to Ft. Campbell to rendezvous with one of their battle groups.

The Army hadn't exactly ceded Ft. Campbell to the Constitutionalists. In fact, the Army along with a small contingent of the remaining military still controls the base since it is equipped with an airstrip sufficient to any needs they might have. The Constitutionalists however have a strong popular base in the town of Hopkinsville, KY. Hopkinsville happens to be where many of my relatives live … or in the surrounding farming communities.

Once this particular contingent of the Constitutionalists arrived and temporarily disappeared by spreading back out into the community, James and Iggy were transferred to the old Western State Hospital for further interrogation. By this time, it was obvious that James was ill. The cold he had gotten from his dunking had turned into a persistent cough and from a cough into bronchitis. He was now suffering incipient pneumonia. Iggy was taking care of him with what he had available but he continued to get worse quickly and then a big hairy guy came in.

James said Iggy at first wouldn't let the guy near him. James said he woke up to someone shaking him and brushing the hair out of his eyes.

"Hey kid, wake up."

After he finished coughing James said he finally got a good look at the long haired and unshaven face and … "Uncle Mike? But Momma thinks … I mean … "

"Your Momma's alive?"

"Sure … but … but … " and that is when James said it finally hit him, that Scott was dead.

My brother had James and Iggy transferred to a local clinic that was doled out antibiotics by the military. Somebody owed him he said.

Within a week James was much better but my brother didn't come around much, only in the middle of the night and never at the same time. At the end of the week they were whisked away to another location, only being told that some folks were getting suspicious and that it was safer for them not to stay in any one location too long.


	289. Day 340 - Part Three

_**Day 340 (Friday) – July 5 – Part Three**_

For a long time James said he just wasn't getting why his uncle was acting so weird. He had a million questions and my brother turned them aside every time. My brother has always been good at avoidance when he wants to be.

They were treated well, if distantly, and both Iggy and James spent their time trying to put together a plan of what to do and where to go next. James wanted to get home. Iggy was torn. He knew he had a duty to James but he was desperate to see for himself whether his wife was still alive or not.

James and Iggy were at this place – what amounted to a halfway house almost – when they were whisked away yet again and wound up in a warehouse. Again in the middle of the night.

There they were met by my brother and some other men who kept their distance. And there is where they learned some of the why's for my brother's seemingly odd behavior.

Michael did in fact make it to some of our relatives' places outside of Hopkinsville with both boys. Unfortunately there was a lot of civil unrest already, not as bad as what they had left in Florida and not nearly as bad as places like Atlanta and Chattanooga, but bad enough. Clarksville was a hotbed of factions both for and against the NRSC; it was their habit to build up support around large military instillations similar to what they did here in Tampa outside of MacDill.

It wasn't until the NRSC had lost control and quarantined the entire geographic location that they lost their support. Unfortunately, just like during the American Revolution, there were still pockets of supporters of the "national government." They just didn't understand that the government now in place was not one that was voted in but that had taken over and basically disenfranchised the legitimate federal government. They were usurpers.

The zombie problem increased and a lot of people died. James doesn't know who all is alive or dead in my family because my brother doesn't have much to do with them. My brother, given our upbringing and his own personality, sided with the group that has become known as the Constitutional Movement. But he paid a heavy price for it. One night, supporters of the NRSC attacked the farm where he was staying. Both of my nephews were injured in the attack but my brother was able to get them to another location where they were safe and received medical care.

The whole thing pushed my brother even harder to support the Constitutional Movement, in fact the attack widened the chasm in the community even more. It got so bad that even children became involved with name-calling, being beaten up by children encouraged by their parents to isolate and bully as a form of peer pressure, denial of aid that the children of non-CM children were given freely by the NRSC groups in the area.

It came to a head a few months back when cholera, introduced into the community when the NRSC built an internment camp in the area for "exiles" from the Free Zone. My nephews were already weakened by their previous injuries and by the bullying they were subjected to on almost a daily basis, My oldest nephew got sick and was then denied care by the NRSC clinic that had been set up supposedly to serve the whole community.

During the whole time my brother was trying to find a way to support his sons. He wound up trucking supplies around for the military as a civilian contractor. It was the only way he could afford to feed the boys and give them a safe place to stay (with one of my cousins). My brother got back from a run just in time to learn of his son's illness and hold him while he died.

When he complained the NRSC representatives had the audacity to state publicly that it was my brother's fault that his son was denied care due to his affiliation with the CM. That backfired. Big time. People that had previously supported the NRSC now started backing off and re-examining their affiliation. Rather than the NRSC doing the smart thing and smoothing the incident over, they hardlined even further. News coming out of the Free Zone and out of other quarantined states added to the resistance to the NRSC. It didn't hurt the resistance's cause that the NRSC had begun to take resources and try and force farmers to produce without any kind of payment or trade; nor did they offer any kind of real protection. The military also began moving back into Ft. Campbell as well after temporarily closing the base to redistribute troops to other areas.

That area of Kentucky and Tennessee is now firmly part of the resistance but there are pockets of NRSC hard-line supporters and threats have been made against my brother and my surviving nephew. My brother has him hidden in plain sight with a family but he has to be very careful of who he associates with … hence the few midnight visits and secrecy.

My brother is part of a group of truckers that have gotten together to form a team that takes the NRSC and their supporters head on. Reminds me a little bit of William W. Johnstone's "18-Wheeler" saga. All of the team members have had their own lives and the lives of friends and family threatened and actively harmed. They trust no one. They don't go around intentionally making enemies but they aren't too concerned if they do either.

Apparently the only reason my brother agreed to bring James home … or really, it was to get him close to home and not necessarily drop him off at our door … is because his team had been following the unusual NRSC troop movements and knew something was going on, not necessarily what or against whom. The team's primary goal is disruption, how they accomplish it however isn't exactly sanctioned by all of the CM leaders. They work under no one's banner of authority.

When and if my brother comes back Dix intends to see about creating a working treaty with them … information in exchange for resources or something like that. And I want to have some kind of talk with him. My brother for all his wild and wooliness was always a little … sensitive I guess you would call it. He was a lot like Momma in that respect. If there is something I can do for him I feel I should. I would also like more information on what has happened to the rest of my family.

What happened to Iggy was another one of the questions that we all wanted information on. I wish I could write that all is OK with him but to be honest, we just don't know … and might not ever know for sure.


	290. Day 340 - Part Four

_**Day 340 (Friday) – July 5 – Part Four**_

Iggy. We had known for a while just how much he was feeling driven to find out if his wife and family were alive or not. He'd been dreaming of her he said last time I had talked to him. Going so much further north than they had expected to … James said that he was so torn but when my brother offered to bring him back home and then a military – a real US military convoy – had agreed to allow him to travel with them in exchange for some pediatric assistance, the situation had just been too providential for Iggy to turn down.

Iggy had been a wanderer before he became part of Sanctuary; it wasn't unexpected that he would feel drawn to go back to that way of life until he could have some closure. I hope one way or the other he finds it. I pray he stays safe and that his closure is healing. I've learned that hope isn't necessarily as in vain as I thought it was.

As far what we did the rest of today when I wasn't watching over my son … clean, clean, clean. Absolutely everything is disgusting. Beyond disgusting. And I can say that even after we have dealt with some nauseating stuff over the last nearly year's worth of time.

The pattern of the charges were staggered in a ring around Sanctuary so that when they blew the percussion would take out the greatest number of enemy but stopping before too much physical damage to our own defenses. We did have some flaking of the concrete in places but Scott and Glenn say that it wasn't unexpected and is easily repaired.

The percussion though also managed to destroy pretty much all of the neat NRSC gear they had brought. We'll be able to make parts out of some of it but the rest of it goes for scrap metal for Bob. About the only place that we have been able to find any equipment relatively intact is the dry moat area. The depth actually protected some of the vehicles and larger guns that would otherwise have been mangled. Unfortunately, a few of them were further destroyed by the strong HP that we poured down upon the zombies trying to thin the number attempting to climb the wall.

Our outlying community locations are toast. What the NRSC and the zombies didn't destroy, the final land gnome explosions did. We've got quite a bit of building material just lying around the city but it is going to take time. Glenn and Scott both agree that this is actually a good opportunity to rebuild bigger, better, and stronger. Much like would happen during ancient times. Archaelogists used to find city built upon the rubble of a previous city built upon the rubble of yet another even earlier city. We are merely repeating history … or we will when the war is over and there is time. Until that then everyone will be staying within Sanctuary's compound. Sanctuary, in fact as well as name.

The kids are locked away in their protective bunker while the adults have gone around hosing down the entire inside, every surface except the garden itself, with diluted HP. Outside of Sanctuary, our people dressed in what amounts to hazmat suits, the corpses and bits of corpses are being laid out in the field that we hope to turn into a grazing meadow in two years. And identifying tags … dog tags, or the weird scientific ID tags found on some of the zombies … are being gathered and dumped into a box. Also, uniform pieces and any equipment is likewise being confiscated. Tomorrow afternoon we'll …

OK, this is just plain gross but it is like what they did in medieval wars and earlier – the corpses are going to be plowed under. We just don't have a choice. There are too many for a funeral pyre, not to mention that it is a little dry for that size fire right now. The stench is already overpowering. The sooner the bodies are turned under the better. The large earth moving equipment that our crew brought back from the phosphate mines will help with this particularly repulsive chore.

The Dining Hall is a complete loss, so is the kitchen. Good thing we managed to dismantle everything that was inside those two areas and store them inside one of them new concrete bunkers. We didn't lose any lines on the Cooler but in a couple of places the exterior skin of the trailers have been damaged. Patches are needed but for now Scott has just sealed them with aluminum tape. Most of the tarps that were laid across the in-ground swimming pools and cisterns held up, but not all of them. We will have to drain the contaminated ones and get rid of the water outside of the wall and hope that there is enough rain in the coming months to refill everything. It won't be long before the dry months are here again. There seem to be a gazillion small repairs that need our attention but nothing that we can't deal with given enough time and creativity.

We've heard from Matlock. They had to deal with a few NRSC troops of their own, but more accidentally rather than a full on attack. Someone bright thought to use the river in an attempt to set up a command post of some type. The TTT folks over there took care of that … permanently if you catch my drift. However, the stress put Becky into pre-term labor. Terra has stabilized her and the contractions have stopped but Matlock wants to try and insulate her as much as possible. We had thought to transport her over here but given the huge X we likely have on us it will be better to leave her where she is, at least for now.

And OSAG has taken some wounds but none of them fatal. They blew their own building … like the Russians did with Napoleon and Hitler. As you retreat to regroup raze the ground you leave behind so your enemy has nothing to live on. Not to mention they probably took out at least a hundred troops when they dropped the building. They say they have multiple back up locations in the area and if I had to guess one of them is probably the old business building on campus … it is the closest thing I can think of to a bunker with its earthen walls and underground hallways, a rarity here in Florida.

All in all we have been extremely lucky. We're hurt, several of our plans have been set back. We've got a mess on our hands the likes of which I couldn't even imagine a couple of days ago even while I planned for it. But then again, I hadn't expected to ever see my son again. I certainly hadn't expected to see my brother again.

Where there is life there is hope. I thought I had already learned that lesson … guess God thought I needed to learn it again, with gusto this time. Part of me worries that this isn't a gift so much as a way of strengthening me before the next battle … and possibly greater loss. I try and not let my thoughts go down that path but it is inevitable.

James and Scott are both asleep and I need to go check on the other children as well. From there I'll go take my turn on guard duty. Angus and I are going to watch for the dragons. I think it is a smart thing to do from here on out.


	291. Day 341

_**Day 341 (Saturday) – July 6th**_

Clean up continues today. We let the older kids out; we didn't really have a choice since we needed the help. The windows on the children's shelter were also opened so that it could air out. We've found that the two stalls of chemical toilets for each sex are inadequate when all the children are put into one bunker. We set up two port-o-potties near the door and I think that the kids are asking to go just to get a chance to get outside. Barring any "event" we told them one more day … what we didn't tell them that as soon as it is safe for them to come out they are going to be put to work.

I took the older kids and divided them up between Mr. Morris and those of us working on the garden. The kids weren't thrilled with the hazmat suits, goggles, and gloves they had to wear – the heat was pretty intense – but that was protocol. It's been 24+ hours since the bodily fluids landed on everything but I'm taking no chances with the kids. A few more days and then we'll let up with the decontamination work.

Those that worked with me in the gardens used clean water to wash down the plants and trees. It is so hot that not much is growing but black eyed peas and okra but it is a different story in the fruit groves. We harvested almost everything we could out of the garden before the battle: big max pumpkin, atlantic giant pumpkin, blue hubbard winter squash, king of the garden pole lima bean, black turtle dry bean, great northern dry bean, mayflower dry bean, pinto bean, butterbean soy bean. Today in the grove we also harvested: soursop, zapote, karanda, kei-apple, pitomba, langan, governor's plum, imbe, lycheee, acerola, mango, sopadilla, avocado, strawberry guava, guava, pomegranate, downy myrtle, lake emerald green grapes, blue lake purple grapes, pineapple, papaya, calamondin, lemon, Persian lime, carambola, fig, passionfruit, pear, and Surinam cherry. Everything is cleaned in two bleach water baths before it goes to Betty in the kitchen to process.

Scott has us keeping track of any broken items when we run across them. This includes broken tree branches; there are quite a few of them and they have to be brought down before they become falling hazards. I already had a branch out of the avocado tree whack me pretty good. I was smart enough to wear a hard hat though because I was pegged last week by falling avocados when we were salvaging everything we could against possible disaster.

I have a couple of broken panels in the greenhouses. That is not a bad thing right now but the panels will need to be replaced before October. For now we've taped over with duct tape and visqueen. Glenn – when do he and Scott have the time to come up with this stuff?! – already have plans for a Glass Works. Glenn brought the equipment back from some hole in the wall craftsmen community thing. I can't remember what it was called off the top of my head. OSAG had already secured most of the workshops on campus … I hope they didn't lose too much in the move.

We haven't even started picking up the mess from the old kitchen and Dining Hall yet. We were prepared for the kitchen since we had wanted to revamp it anyway … but the Dining Hall is a real loss. No one has the time to devote to building a new structure right now … nor the resources. Next one Scott says he wants to use forms and pour concrete pillars to replace the wooden poles. The slab is cracked on one corner but Scott says he can repair it. With Bob's expertise we should be able to fabricate metal trusses to go with the concrete pillars and that will also be more wind resistant.

We are doing without much help from Aldea, however there is a good reason for it. The rice harvest has begun. Saen is in her element and Glenn actually spent the day over there. Scott said he was torn because he wants to be here to play pickup sticks with all of the "toys" the NRSC left behind but at the same time he needs to support his wife and lend a hand over there; the rice crop is simply too important for our communities.

Brief radio transmission from my brother. He still plans to "visit" but he doesn't know when. His location is currently unknown. When he will visit is unknown. What he is doing is unknown. All I have now is the knowledge that he is alive … that will have to be good enough. I just hope he isn't out doing something that could change that.

Rats … Johnnie is sick to his stomach. Gotta go.


	292. Day 343

_**Day 343 (Monday) – July 8th**_

Yesterday was just so not lovely. On top of trying to get things back in order we had some kind of stomach virus run through everyone that was hold up in the kids' bunker. It must have come in on something or someone somehow … maybe the zombies bits for all I know. It was just like a norovirus. In no time after Johnnie, the third one down, had started the rest of them fell in clumps. Even Nana got sick.

Those of us doing the sanitizing probably had too much peroxide around us all the time to get infected. I didn't take any chances though and neither did Ski. Those from the clinic that were taking care of the kids must have washed our hands often enough to have been considered OCD.

The fact that it was hot and uncomfortable, even at night, hasn't helped things. The last of the puking stopped around mid-day but a lot of the kids are still feeling puny. Nana is at the clinic tonight. I'm sitting here in the little office space that was built into this bunker or building or whatever you want to call it. I'm taking care of the kids tonight so in order to stay awake I'm working.

Scott is with James who didn't get this stuff thank goodness. Ski finally admitted that James is a lot weaker than he appears. We have to build him back up. He is getting the vitamins we have left though there aren't that many of them to be honest, he is drinking some of the orange juice that I canned when it was cooler, and getting a cup of green soup or beef broth as an appetizer for each meal. He already looks better than he did but he still has a long way to go. He sleeps a lot and that isn't like him at all.

Wish I could sleep. There has been so much to think about. Yesterday we started having problems we didn't expect … or I didn't expect. People have come to our territory and started to scavenge through the NRSC stuff that we hadn't gotten to. We'd already gotten the crème de la crème but there was still a bunch of stuff out there. No way can we use it all, and no way that a lot of it is useable but it is the principle of the thing. We did the fighting yet others want to swoop in like vultures and take advantage of the situation. This was a real security issue.

Glenn solved some of it by detonating a few dummy rounds and then letting the news "leak" out that there was still unexploded stuff out there … like mines and acid washes and stuff. We also had people walking around in hazmat suits spraying that strong peroxide. You can bet that made some people move. Then we'd string concertina wire and stuff like that try to keep people out of areas we were salvaging.

There were a few people that demanded a share of the peroxide or to be given hazmat suits or even some of our fuel. There were people that were begging for food. It hurt … oh boy did it hurt … but we turned every single one of them away.

My brother showed up out of the blue today and amazingly he got in the face of a man who was still at it begging, dragging his kids with him through all of the wreckage and told him, "Too bad, so sad. You don't fight, you don't eat."

It was strange to see my brother so hard, I never would have figured him to take that route. He was never weak exactly, but there were areas he wasn't strong either.

"We're in a war Sis, make no mistake about it. If you thought the country was devolving into a socialist/Marxist regime before you should see some of the things I've seen coming out of the Free Zone. They like to keep people in the population centers so that they have more control of them. The NRSC controls all travel and trade. The living arrangements are set up in community blocks and there are NRSC representatives within each block and people get extra ration points for informing on their neighbors. There is approved books and subversive material. Due process is out the window. You can have your children taken away if you aren't a good citizen. It's enough to make a man physically ill."

When Scott asked him how he knows this stuff he answered, "Remember how Moses sent spies into the Promised Land to check things out? Well just call me Joshua. We lost some people to the koolaide. They opted to stay with the Free Zoners thinking they'd have a better life on the NRSC dole … most of them tried to come back in three months or less, assuming they hadn't been killed or sent off to a work camp for re-education. We don't even bother anymore because so many zoners are trying to escape and find a place of liberty again. You know it has got to be bad when people would rather fight the zombies than live under the NRSC rule."

And that is when we got back on the issue of the zombies. My brother's opinion on that was interesting too. "I don't give a rat's hind end how they came into existence. I don't care what kind of blood type does what. Oh sure, it's good for a little conversation around the campfire, but does it really do any good? See a zombie, shoot a zombie. For all practical purposes the research being done by scientists means nothing. When someone is infected with NRS it invades and replaces genetic material in the brain and a few other organs. No vaccine is going to fix that. Every type of gene therapy they have tried has made for a very unpleasant death for the victim on the receiving end. Going to one of those damn labs is like stepping into one of Josef Mengele's wet dreams. Damn I hate those places … and a lot of the scientists in them have become so disconnected from reality that I'm not sure they ain't half-crazy or more."

Ski asked him about the rate of infection. "Man, that's above my pay grade. Safest bet is to consider everyone infected. We keep a sanitizing tool on us and friend or foe, you die you get your brain scrambled and fried. A lot of it is going to go back to what you believe happens after death but most people believe the soul, or the part of you that is you, leaves the body and doesn't hang around to get bent out of shape over what happens to the shell it leaves behind. In our area it's become normal practice. But the issue of euthanizing can still be a hot topic. See the problem is that not all people who are 'infected' turn. Supposedly we all have the NRS virus now but in some folks it can't reproduce enough to reanimate your corpse. NRS won't kill you, it is just … hmmm … an opportunistic virus that takes over the host body with the soul doesn't need it anymore. Just consider the rate of infection to be 100% and you'll never go wrong."

I learned more about the family in general. We've got a cousin that owns a big warehouse and shipping company up in Hopkinsville. They've done OK for themselves though they've had to fight a takeover by the NRSC on more than one occasion. Luckily they have military backing now since they contracted with them. What this means for us is that Brother is going to take back a contract offer from us to them and if it is accepted we'll probably be able to contract with them for wheat. Details will have to be worked out but it is doable so long as we can come up with some type of agreement. We can either take it is whole grains or they'll grind it for us. I suggested with get some milled but that the bulk we take in whole grains for better storage. If we can manage it we might even get enough to play middle man to the local markets. We'll have to see whether it would be worth the cost.

I loaded my brother up with food and some basic necessities. I took them out of my secret stash. It hurt to see him leave. But at least now I have some hope that we'll see each other again. When he saw I had put a roll of TP in the basket he started laughing and I finally had to ask what the joke was.

"That roll there? You just gifted me with gold."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's put it this way. If I was a certain type of man I could take that roll and go to a whore house and have any kind of sex I wanted for a week. Feminine products are about the same though with birth control running out females are getting knocked up pretty regular and taking care of some of that problem."

"Why you … !"

"Oh settle down Sissy. I didn't say I was that kind of man but it sure is a temptation to decide what to do with this stuff versus wiping my butt with it. People mostly use dollar bills these days if they use anything at all."

Honestly, obviously my brother hasn't changed all that much.


	293. Day 346

_**Day 346 (Thursday) – July 11th**_

Honestly, there is nothing that smells worse than the putrid odor of zombies in the summer or what is left of zombies I should say.

I think I've got the day right. We've been working round the clock and the days are starting to run together. We've been cleaning. I told Glenn that while part of me appreciates his Caddyshack solution to the zombie hive, if we ever have to use it again to this magnitude he could clean it up himself. Honestly every time I think we've taken care of all of the mess something will turn up; biological debris wedged into an out of the way stucco wall or concrete block, a blood pool that seeped around a window frame, some material fluttering from a high tree branch like the tail of a demented kite.

I've had to scrap a couple of the small garden plots. They were too contaminated to simply plow under or wash off so we had to use the peroxide to flush them with. The produce wasn't worth taking a chance with. I pulled anything growing up and put it in the compost heap. It's nearly time to let the gardens have a summer break anyway. I was happy the big summer gardens of okra and black eyed peas were spared. The big field of Spanish peanuts was also spared and one of the things I had the kids doing was pulling the plants and stacking them into piles to finish drying. I also pulled the luffa gourds and they are sitting under nets drying as well.

We had two days of torrential rains, an early tropical storm, wash most of the mess away or deep into the ground. We had to replow and then deeply cultivate the three "killing fields" outside of the curtain wall. The rain uncovered too much; the smell wafted for miles.

We finally ran off the last of the human scavengers when we started using the high pressure pumper trucks that Bob fixed the guts of. We washed some zombies out of hiding as well. They weren't hiding intentionally but because they were stuck. We've pulled all the equipment into the skunkworks and we'll go through it there; anything too tore up for immediate use will be hauled to an area where we are going to build a scrap yard. Bob wants to try melting some of the scraps and ultimately being able to pour the molten metal into new forms. Beats me if it is possible with our current manufacturing capacity but the process had to start somehow during ancient times and we aren't quite that archaic.

What we need more than a metalworks however is a glassworks. We've got a lot of broken windows and the mosquitoes are bad. Glenn gathered the equipment while on those runs he and some of the young bucks made but the process is pretty tedious if I understanding it right. We have many crates of broken glass at this point, but you have to make sure to remove all biological debris (human or plant) as well as any other contaminants otherwise you're left with a bad discoloration or weak spot.

We're in even a worse fix for screens. The girls and I are repairing what we can by sewing them together but some have chunks missing from them, either torn or melted, and need replacing completely.

The repair to the curtain wall foundation has proceeded, but not without delays. We finally had to sew up some sand bags to hold the sand in place and then we used that orange construction netting to hold the stack of sandbags in place. As soon as the rain lets up completely we are going to use the Bobcats to pack more sand over that and then we'll roll sod on top of that.

I know that sounds like we're curing today's problems by creating problems for tomorrow but there will always be problems to solve. If the grass does become an issue we'll just run Ol' Billy and his descendants through the area. There are a couple of places in the moat I am thinking about growing bamboo; sort of like those things that the men laid in the road to keep vehicles from being able to move very fast.

Amazingly the carp, catfish, and gators came through relatively unscathed. We lost a few but not near as many as was expected. We won't eat them for a couple of seasons to make sure they don't suffer some contamination just to be on the safe side.

All of the animals are creating a strain on the resources inside the wall so we've had no choice but to utilize outside "pasture" areas. Mr. Choi's young ladies help with this chore and I've been forced to let Sarah take her turn as well though I'm far from comfortable doing so.

And all of this work has been done with an ear turned on what is happening in the area and further afield. It is very hard for us to believe that the NRSC would simply take a licking like they took here and not try some form of retribution. My brother said that their commanders don't appear to be very experienced as far as strategy goes. You can either watch them perform something straight out of a textbook like they are taking an open book test or they seem to react purely on emotion. There isn't a whole lot of flexibility to their battle plans.

I'm not sure where that leaves us. Do we have time to completely recoup and develop new defensive postures? Do we have time to rebuild what has been damaged? What, if anything, are they going to throw at us next?

I know something we are really worried about is whether they are going to come at us from the air or use some "smart bomb" type thing from long distance. My brother said that there has been a few air attacks but not many; the Air Force pretty much has restricted that type of movement by the NRSC. The infrastructure and tech is questionable for the NRSC being able to use long range bombs if they were able to keep any away from the US military. What my brother said some are worried about is if the NRSC is sending exploratory groups to take weapons out of the cache of other countries … like Cuba, Canada, and possibly even further afield like Europe or even the former Eastern bloc countries.

How did we step into this hornet's nest? Last year this time all Scott and I worried about was putting food on the table and keep Code Enforcement off of our backs. If I think about it too hard it gives me a migraine and acid indigestion.

If we've come this far in a year, what are the coming days, weeks, and months going to bring? Maybe I should only worry about today and tomorrow. There is plenty enough to deal with for that without begging problems I don't even know about yet.


	294. Interlude

_**Interlude from Sissy's Journal in the Future**_

Rains been awful today; haven't been able to get a thing done. Decided to go through some of the stuff that I have in storage to see if I can unclutter our living space a little bit. I surely do love the second floor that Scott built for us but on days like today those stairs are murder on my knees. One of these days I suppose we'll have to move the master bedroom back downstairs but not today. Today I got lost in the past.

I started writing a journal because … well, to keep my head organized and to have a place to blow off steam. Still journal for the same reasons; but it has been a long time since I reread the really old ones. Reading back over these old journals has brought back so many memories it hurts. Life changed so much so fast. The people we knew and loved came and went. Good times. Bad times. Strange times. Horrific times.

We had to learn to make do, use it up, repurpose it, or do without. I went from being a suburban house frau helping to run the family business to being … being … I still don't know exactly how to categorize exactly what I had to become; what I am to a certain extent even now, years and years later.

I had to stop reading. I remember those days. We had begun to think that the zombie threat was over, or if not over at least back to a manageable level. If we only knew what was coming next. I hate to think on it. The end of the first year was really only the end of the beginning. As bad as that year had been what we faced next was at least as bad, and in some ways even more trying for those of us that survived.

Thank God my brother was able to give us a heads up … but even that. No. I'm putting that aside for another day. I … I can't go there. Not today when the sky is still dark and ominous and full of tears waiting to fall. We lost so much. We lost so many. And we weren't the only ones.

Today was a better day weather wise but my old injuries are acting up something awful. I had to plant myself in a rocker on the veranda … the wide, wraparound porch that Scott added when he put on the second story … and let the grandkids get today's chores finished. It gave me time to read some more of my old journals; and, according to a couple of comments I don't think I was suppose to hear, it was a relief to have me out from underfoot for a while. Growing old … it isn't all it is cracked up to be. Young people think they have all the answers. We did too. It is plain as day when I look back on those early times.

It seems moronic to call those early years "innocent" but in hindsight that is what they were. Oh, we grew from our struggles but it wasn't always in ways or directions that we expected to. Even with the cursed zombies, the NRSC, the anarchists, and all the other "ists" out there vying for people's loyalty and devotion to their cause times were just … simpler. The common denominators for everyone were food and shelter; basic survival was what most focused on. But most were still focused more on their own survival than anyone else's. New communities like Sanctuary were few and far between. Sanctuary still stands out. Heard from an old friend up in the governor's mansion that it is being mentioned in the new textbooks that are being written; don't know if that is a good idea or not. Last thing we need around here are more tourists coming to tour the battlefields and the big Glensan aquaculture farms.

Got one of Angus' infrequent letters in today's post. That bad knee of his has him laid up for the winter but it sounds like he is doing all right. Found him a little widow lady that runs a boarding house out on the edge of one of the territories. He's in hog heaven as she has a houseful of kids and just needed a little extra help to get through the coldest season on record. We'll miss him this year; he's been spending his winters here at the old home place and then travelling during the warmer months to escape the humidity. We could sure use a little global warning about now. Stupid nuclear winter is just about to kill off all the citrus around here. We hardly had a summer at all the last couple of years; north Florida even had snow though we managed to avoid that here due to our proximity to Tampa Bay.

But all these trials are relatively new ones. Re-reading the journals reminds me of the ones that kept hitting us back then.

The second phase of the worldwide collapse came when "Zombie Breath" was discovered. I hate that name. It is still used today even though the zombie population has been quite small for over a decade. Hives are a thing of the past, or at least that is what they tell us though there are rumors that they occasionally form out in the territories when the local control services don't do their jobs. The last officially documented hive started due to a mass suicide by a large apocalyptic cult and that's been a good five years, maybe more; my memory is like an old, scratched CD, it skips and jumps right at the good parts.

No one knew what it was at first. It started out strictly as a zombie disease, although disease isn't exactly right since zombies aren't alive in the traditional sense. We didn't know it at the time, but it was a scientific boo-boo on the part of a group seeking to eradicate the zombies using chemicals. The chemicals they used acted on the putrecine and the cadaverine produced as zombies' amino acids decomposed. Putrecine and cadaverine are naturally occurring chemicals and can be found in just about everything and though the names are disgusting and the idea of ingesting them even more so it would take a huge oral dose to reach toxicity in a human.

Normal poisons and such don't work on zombies, the host is already dead and the NRS is imbedded deep within the neural system and able to escape even the most radical extermination efforts. Eventually what some scientists decided to try was a dramatic increase in the decomposition rate using a spray on foam. Only the strongest solution of acids worked and that would have destroyed the environment given the number of zombies at the time.

So they decided to ramp up the natural decomposition process by monkeying around with the putrecine and the cadaverine. That is what caused the bad mojo although no one knew it at the time.

I'm not sure I like the new state-sponsored schools though I have to admit it was a relief to retire from teaching in the little school house we eventually set up over at the old university campus. We were losing an entire generation to ignorance and it was beginning to show. They call the generation that my youngest kids belong to the "Lost Generation." They lost everything, some of them lost every one, and even today there is a noticeable gap between the grandparent generation and the grandchild generation. The generation sandwiched between the two have a much higher incidence of mental health problems, hygiene related illnesses, and tend to have a lower socio-economic status. Not all of them of course, most of the kids that grew up in Sanctuary escaped the worst those early years inflicted. Many of those kids, now adults with children of their own, have even succeeded far beyond what I would have ever considered possible.

It's just if the trauma that those children suffered wasn't enough they were further crippled by their subsequent dependence on state and federal assistance; those foul orphan relocation programs producing some of the worst of the emotionally and spiritually handicapped. Of course when the federal government's powers were limited to only specifically granted responsibilities within the Constitution a lot of that social assistance disappeared since many states simply didn't have the resources … or the desire … to provide for massive numbers of people who didn't have a voting influence.

In the end many of the "Lost Generation" that couldn't come to terms with a society organized along limited social services relocated to the territories and live in communes, areas still controlled by the anarchists, or in strange pseudo-urbanized settings that mimic the way things used to be before NRS. Why they would chose to do so when some of those places are so repressive to individuality and individual rights is beyond me. Things may not be perfect here … the wars proved that … but at least there are opportunities for economic gain and when you do fail, which is inevitable at least once in your life, there isn't anyone putting their jackboots on your neck to keep you down. My own nephew is out there somewhere, at least l chose to believe he is still out there. We haven't heard from him since before the Sino-Afrikan War that left us with this wonderful weather.

None of my children have signed their kids up for the state-sponsored schools. Really, everyone acts like it is a totally new concept and is all excited about the new school system. Truth is it is very like the old virtual schools they had back in the before time. You have learning stations within your home and there are assigned hours that lectures take place and assignments given by certified teachers, but in the end it is up to the parents to maintain consistency and encourage the children to apply themselves.

Our family still educates our own along the lines of the old homeschool system using the old schoolhouse we built to replace the one that was destroyed in that first big battle with the NRSC. It has had more than a few coats of new lime wash over the years but it still looks like a cross between the top of a giant toadstool and a termite mound. The upper floor is still the observatory and used as the science lab. The various attached pods each have a different theme with the children's library being the biggest pod. The real showcase of the school is the playground. During breaks, holidays, and days they can escape their chores the children can play in the Swiss Family tree house, a jungle gym built to mimic a prairie schooner, or improve their dexterity and knot tying skills on the replica Norse longboat.

Childhood remains as idyllic as we can make it though nothing approaching what it was like pre-NRS. These days in addition to the three R's, kids learn orienteering, ballistics, tracking, and agriculture. There are electives on all the non-electric energy sources, textiles and manufacturing, metal and woodworking, construction, glass for practical art, and thanks to grants from Glensan, no shortage of paid apprenticeships in hydrogen production, aquaculture, and desalination. We still have the skunkworks though it is no longer on a twenty-four hour production schedule since the Treaty of Johannesburg was signed and ratified though there is talk of ramping it back up if all the noise doesn't stop about trying to recreate the United Nations. Some of the old member nations are trying to force the US and its recognized territories to replace the blocks that were lost during the firebombing of the old headquarters when it was discovered that the rats that had taken up residence there were carrying the ZB plague.

It seems that no matter how many steps forward we take, humans manage to take an equal or greater number backwards just for the sake of contrariness. Re-reading my journals has reminded me that I need to be more careful about idealizing the "good ol' days." Sure, we didn't have to deal with near as many rules and regulations as we do today so that we can have a common currency (finally got everything transferred to the gold standard though most local and intrastate trading is still by barter) and a common national military force, but the freedoms we had back then either came with a painful price tag or weren't really what we had been searching for when we said we wanted our freedom.

And after the Zombie Breath plague began to get a foothold things became even more challenging than they had before. Most resources from pre-NRS had already been found and exploited. That meant that you either developed a very dependable self-sufficiency or you traded for what you needed. Zombie Breath brought trading to a complete standstill. Heck, it nearly brought the world to a standstill even worse than NRS had.


	295. Year 2 - August 18

**(Day … I haven't got a clue, I'll have to go back and count some other time) August 18** **th**

 _ **(Year 2 – August 18th - Part 1)**_

I know it is the morning of August 18th but that is about it right now. I couldn't tell you the hour; in all of the hullabaloo I forgot to wind my watch and the house clocks too. I'll go out today to the garden and check the sundial for twelve noon and then check it against the command center's main clock.

Finally, a day where I can sit down and breathe … and think. Although, maybe thinking isn't such a good thing during the first chance I've had to relax in quite some time… but it has to be done. I need to take stock of where we are and plan where we are going next. To that end we are also having a communitywide meeting in the skeleton of the new meeting hall that is being built.

We've been going totally jacked up fast for nearly a month. I think we are all three-quarters crazy from sleep deprivation if nothing else. Ski is really worried. Some of us are showing signs of depression, anxiety, and other stress-related mental issues. Of course the radio broadcasts coming out of the Free Zone aren't helping at all. NRSC idiots. The zombies may not be their fault but this next bit looks like they had a hand in supporting the scientists whose work may very well put a period to the rebuilding for the next however many generations.

Maybe I'm suffering from depression and anxiety too. Even a couple of weeks ago I never would have been so ready to say it is all over. But twenty-four on/eight off shifts will do that to you; that and listening to the depressing reality of what is heading our way. We've had so little time to prepare for the second end of the world.

Let's see, I last wrote in my journal on July 11th. We were cleaning up from successfully repelling a large force of NRSC apparently being ordered around by a bunch of incompetent so-and-so's. Part of that clean up involved running off a lot of local human scavengers which hasn't left too good an impression around town if you want to know the truth. From what we are hearing people are now scared that we are trying to become warlords or something equally asinine; or, angry that we aren't sharing our bounty.

They are angry enough in fact that trading was difficult until we stretched outside of our immediate area and was able to tap into some people starting to make their living by harvesting the Bay and Gulf. One of the best things we did was share how we built the Cooler. Glenn made contact with a fisherman by the name of Gene Comeaux. At first all they wanted to trade was for rice. But by then we were intent on keeping all the food we could and not trading it. After a couple of conversations we all agreed to "sell" them the technology for a Cooler to lengthen the time they could keep their harvest, lessen the amount of loss they had, and lessen the number of times they had to put their lives on the line by going on the water. It worked out well and if we all survive what is coming I think we've made significant inroads into a future trading relationship.

But all of that was later. First came my brother. Thank God for his contacts because he delivered the news to us even before it hit the airwaves. He showed up on July 14th just as we were about to sit down to a noon day meal pulling an armored trailer. He had two other big rigs with them. Each rig had a sleeping compartment and carried three men and an ungodly number of guns, including a large mounted and at least two concealed in the trailers themselves.

My brother was still my brother but I could tell he was also this other person he was when he was with his compatriots, these hard men that didn't seem to have much to lose but who were intent on living anyway. They were all friendly but in a standoffish kind of way. They weren't snobs, just … incredibly careful I guess you would say.

The deal was that my brother had information that he was giving away to us for free. But they were also hauling wheat, apples, sorghum (grain and molasses), bourbon, whiskey, and some hard cheeses. What they wanted in exchange was gun parts … not whole guns or ammo, which they had, but spare parts which they could always use. Given the volume of spare parts we had at that point it was an easy choice. I think my brother purposefully brought items that we wanted and needed. What they asked in exchange was also fairly non-threatening since they had the guns and ammo already. Either way the trade worked and while the exchange was being made my brother and another man they called "Two" told the news.

About a month ago … no, make that two since it's been a month since I've seen or heard from my brother … some scientists thought they had devised a better way of exterminating the zombies en mass as opposed to a few at a time. They had been through different variations on the theme before but it was always simply too hard on the local ecology or physical infrastructure. Some brainiac started tinkering with a couple of naturally occurring compounds produced as living creatures decay searching for a way to increase the rate of decomposition.

What they did worked … at first … until a strange phenomena was noticed. Instead of a normal putrification occurring, it was observed that the zombies appeared to be molding. And instead of the molding only being confined to the zombies that had been sprayed with the decomposing chemicals, it appeared to be spreading from zombie to zombie like an infection. The problem is that only living things can get biologically infected in the traditional sense and the scientists were intrigued. Did that mean that the zombies were a life form after all?

"I swear Sissy, some of those white coats are as dumb as posts. Not only are they messing around with the natural order of things but then they went out poking around in it before they knew what they were up against and with only basic gloves and masks. The idiots didn't even use hazmat protocols and suits if the survivors are to be believed."

From what the military were able to ascertain after they went into the redoubt being used for the experiments to shut the place down … they _were_ smart enough to use the toughest hazmat protocols when they couldn't raise anyone inside … the chemicals that were sprayed onto the zombies were never absorbed since the scientists had made the mistake of thinking that the zombie body would absorb them using capillary action. Hello?! No living, no pumping capillaries to suck the chemicals in. My brother was being kind when he called those people idiots.

So the chemicals sat on the parts of the zombie bodies that came into contact with the spray and created the mold. And once the mold had grown to a certain stage it "bloomed" releasing spores. The spores are what transferred the mold from zombie to zombie. Now here is where it gets scary. The stupid scientists didn't take into account that the chemicals they were monkeying around with were naturally occurring in all living animals so when the mold from the zombies "bloomed" the spores lit upon more than just other zombies. In particular they lit upon the scientists in the redoubt who breathed the spores in. And the spores, now exposed to truly living human tissue, mutated into a bacterial infection the likes of which had never been seen.

The redoubt was located on the far western boundary of the Free Zone and that is probably the only thing that slowed spread of this bacterial infection since it happened in such a sparsely populated area. But that isn't to say that it was stoppable. Remember, zombies aren't stationary. They travel, sometimes in patterns, but mostly in indecipherable paths leaving chaos in their wake.

By the time the military got involved captive zombies, as well as those that were left in the wild to infect other zombies, had travelled westward. The rate of infection for the bacterial infection isn't 100% but it does have a 100% death rate for those that do become infected. The rate of infection bounces between fifty and seventy-five percent depending on how physically debilitated the person being infected is. In some really rundown communities the infection and subsequent death rate was 100% which is another reason that has slowed the spread down. The "fire" of the infection spreads so fast that it uses up all of the available tinder - in this case people and other zombies - and burns itself out. Ski said the same sort of thing has happened in high mortality pandemics. Either way, this stuff is bad, bad, bad.

They are calling this stuff "Zombie Breath." Since zombies don't breathe the colloquial name for the infection is an oxymoron but at the same time it describes the infection transmission once it is passed to humans. The most frightening thing about Zombie Breath is what happens to the living after they've been infected … and there are reports that the infection isn't just limited to live humans.


	296. Zombie Breath Plague

**The Zombie Breath Plague**

Don't have the energy or desire to figure out what fragging day it is. I thought the preparation for the second end of the world was tough. Living through the second end of the world is even worse. This has been going on for days. Ski finally had to dope the kids a little. We've been alternating valerian root, kava, and chamomile tea. I think some adults are taking a cup or two of tea as well. Personally I'm drinking a cup of chamomile tea though I'm so used to it that it's just tea to me. Scott and James were so tired and heartsick that they simply crashed and burned. David went to sleep with his head in Rose's lap and I just don't have the heart to act all mother hen about it. It seems to bring comfort to Rose anyway. The rest of my chicks are spread out in the house and things are finally quiet as they generally get about this hour of the night.

How long has it been since I last wrote in my journal? Several weeks at least; I don't think any more than two months but right now I can't say for sure. We thought we were seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Rice crop was in, all the harvestable crops were in, the smokehouses and Cooler were kept full to bursting. All of the repairs to the curtain wall and the moat area were completed and we even had revamped a few things as we went along. The water catchment system was nearly full and a second one had been built and attached to the inside of the wall and was also beginning to fill. Aldea fuel and hydrogen peroxide were in round the clock production and our supplies were getting back to where they belonged though we were nowhere near the surplus we had before the battle.

It had gotten to the point where we felt able to salvage more building materials. The first hiccup in our short term plans came on the USF campus. Steve had already warned off a couple of gangs looking to take advantage of our temporary weakness and muscle into the USF security zones of the TTT. They didn't listen though they no longer risked daytime incursions. In the night they tried a salvage operation pulling copper wires and lines out of a building near the former radio station. A horrific explosion was heard all the way over to Sanctuary by our night patrol and even had the dogs barking.

We called over to OSAG and were reassured to hear it wasn't them. The next day we were all shocked to hear the explosion was caused by a booby trap … and that OSAG hadn't been the one to set it. Once we started looking we found lots of going away presents left by the Free Zone Forces. That's what they are calling themselves these days. They are trying to distance the troops from the bad reputation of the NRSC. It doesn't matter; they're still run by the same people. You can call a pile of manure a rose all you want but that won't change the smell.

Because we now had to look for booby traps as well as zombies our salvage operations slowed to a crawl. Everyone was anxious and irritable about it, especially the men who used to look forward to the salvaging runs as a way to break their routines and expend some of their adrenaline. Glenn, after talking it over with a few folks, presented a plan to go outside of our area and take what we needed. After some discussion by everyone in the TTT, and no small amount of fussing from all of us females, a group went out and hit several concrete and phosphate plants Glenn had been meaning to get back to. We also had a group hit the salt production company over at the Port. They had to shoot their way in and out of that one as a group of pirates had tried to grab a monopoly. We lost a truck but took about three quarters of the remaining salt and it is now stored in a concrete silo with a solid pour foundation to keep salt from leaching into the ground. We took five percent of the remaining twenty-five and we distributed to anyone that wanted it along the return trip and provided five percent to our seafood contact. Maybe we shouldn't have, that may have been what set us up for what was to come later.

I wouldn't say we were complacent. My brother managed to make two more trips to the area. The first one he brought more wheat. The second he brought a semi full of deciduous fruit we can't grow around here. In exchange we traded some pure hydrogen peroxide for the medical facilities they trade with, we gave them a large load of salt (that remaining fifteen percent), and we hooked them up with our seafood contact. The second trip before he took off I had a frank discussion with him.

"Why?"

"Why what Sis?"

"Don't act stupid, you know what."

"Maybe but why don't you spell it out."

"Geez you are such a hard head. Why are your people being so … I don't know … so easy about this."

"It's a good trade."

"Please stop the crap Bubba. I know something is going on. I can tell. Scott can tell. He's willing to let it go, I'm not."

"Aw hell Sis. What do you want me to say? Yeah, the Constitutionalists want strong contacts down here in case we have to have a bolt out the back door. We tried with this group further south of you, the one that big Viking nearly ran into. They suck. Basically land pirates. They're good at what they do but they keep getting in our way and working at cross purposes to us. They're trying to rebuild things the way they were … the same old BS. We want to go back further than that, back to the original intent of the Forefathers."

"Please don't tell me you all have turned the Constitution into a religion."

"No … no, though some people are that zealous of it. It's never easy to walk a fine line. We're securing our friends and potentially meeting our neighbors."

"What if we don't want to be your friends' neighbors. They don't sound like the type that share too well."

"Don't ask me to pick sides Sis. We've got our nut cases same as everyone else but we've got way more good people fighting to set things up the way they were meant to be. We are a hell of a lot better than the NRSC."

"In other words if we aren't with you we're against you."

"Not quite that … harsh. But don't make enemies Sis. If you can't fight on our side then just stay out of the fight."

"Don't forget one thing little brother."

"What's that?"

"No one but my husband tells me what to do. We've fought the NRSC more than once and come out on top. We aren't out to be anybody's savior and benefactor … but we won't be anyone's doormat either. I want my family to be free … truly free, not just free based on someone's interpretation of things. Maybe some of your folks need to go back and re-read that document. I won't live in anyone's gilded cage … the bars might be pretty but the door is still locked."

"That's how we all feel Sis. Get off your high horse."

"You sure? Some of the things we've heard on the radio from the Constitutional Party doesn't sound like it."

"Those are just splinter groups. I told you there are a few crackpots."

"Then maybe the Constitutional Party needs to keep a closer eye on who is speaking for them. When the speaker was asked when they would bring back habeas corpus he either couldn't or wouldn't give an answer. Gives people the idea that maybe some of those folks are on the same ego trip that the NRSC took."

"Yeah … between you, me, and the tree rats that's already underway."

"OK. I'll get off your back. But you remember something, if you personally ever need a bolt hole, there's always our sofa … you and Benjamin both."

It wasn't a real argument and I can't say I honestly gave my brother anything to think about but at least I took the time to say it. If something does go bad I don't want my brother to wonder where he could go. That's the last I've heard from him. I guess it was a week later that the foundations of the world began to quake in earnest.

Had to stop, Johnnie had a nightmare. He hasn't had one of those in a while. Where was I? Oh yeah, a week later the world began to get even flakier.

When our people would go on salvaging runs they would have to stay in quarantine for a couple of days. It slowed things down but it was the only way for us to ensure the overall health and safety of those within Sanctuary's walls. Then one afternoon they ran into the inevitable … and got lucky. They were combing through some sheds at a landscaping company for irrigation materials and whatever else might be useful but were in their hazmat suits. Thank God for that.

Theo, who was training to be part of the security details outside of the Wall, was the first to see it. It was on top of the shed checking out the terrain and tall vegetation behind the structure.

"Guys … yo … we've got company and … oh #$% … we gotta get outa here now!"

"Hey kid, calm down. How many of them are there?"

"It ain't the number man … it's … come ON! We gotta move!"

"You're panicking. Deep breath and report."

"Man, there ain't but two but one of 'em is a mushroom dude."

"Mushroom dude" was apparently the only thing Theo could think of when he saw the zombie. The men that saw it later admitted that that was as good a description as any. There were all of these moldy, mushroom-like growths on the zombies' bodies and you could tell they even grew under the rotting clothing that still clung to them.

Damon was a little more graphic. " #$% thing looked like &* #. Had all this weird #$% growing on its skin. Even had that #$% growing on the inside of the body. You could see where there were old and new wounds. #$ %&(+ that is some bad looking #$%. Nearly made me puke up my #$%&)+ breakfast!"

All of the men were affected. They were shook up that's for sure. I can still remember the shocky look on their faces even after they came out of forty-eight hour quarantine where they had waited to see whether they had been infected. It's one thing to wrap your head around zombies and get to a point that you don't go crazy on a daily basis, it's quite another to face and deal with the fungus freaks. Now that I've seen them myself I can understand the … I don't know what you call it … the instinctual horror that the infected zombies cause. All I knew at that time however was that whatever it was, it was bad enough to dramatically affect some of our most hardened soldiers. And that was really bad.

Like any zombie infestation, where there is one there is generally more … about like cockroaches, you see one you can pretty well bet there are a whole lot of them that your aren't seeing. Now that we knew for sure that the Zombie Breath infection had reached this area it was time to batten down the hatches.

We went into overdrive covering and securing our food and fuel sources as well as trying to design better and more impenetrable defenses. OSAG summarily ended all of the markets and broke down the secure zone they had built to further discourage people trying to continue congregating within our territory. Folks weren't happy about that. Most didn't want to believe the reason why it was being done either. Those that believed only wanted to believe that it was just the one zombie and since our people had shot it and then burnt it over with our homemade flame thrower – another toy courtesy of Glenn's whacked out dreams leftover from his tours as a contractor in the Middle East – that the threat had been dealt with.

Most of all though people were mad because we were trying to destroy the "normal" that they had started to build for themselves. I'm proof that you can get used to anything, even zombies. You just incorporate the defensive measures into your everyday life. If there are only one or two normal zombies it isn't a problem. If you have a Runner or a Climber things get a little exciting but nothing beyond dealing with date night traffic on Interstate 4. Things only got hairy if you had a Tracker on your hands or if the number of vanilla flavored zombies got to be more than a dozen; a dozen was most small groups' limit. Now here we were trying to explain to them that a new big and bad had come to town and it was even more dangerous than the original zombie threat had been. You wouldn't die just from getting bit but by breathing the freaking air. You can avoid being bitten but how do you avoid breathing?

Within five days of the original sighting of the Fungus Freak zombie, one was spotted by one of OSAG's patrols. It was well outside the normal TTT patrol route – they'd been scavenging for spare parts for the new radio station – but the fact that three of the ZB zombies had been spotted (the original two plus this solitary one) gave everyone a stomach full of acid from concern.

Only emergency salvaging parties were even considered from that point forward. All trade to non-TTT members was broken off except for one last seafood shipment that included blue crabs as well as some sponges and a few other things from a group that had set up out in Tarpon Springs. We rushed to help OSAG complete their bunker in the college of business building and as soon as that was completed and fortified Steve began broadcasting warnings … and warning people to stay away from the TTT as we were setting up booby traps and other defensive features.

Aldea's wall was finally completed though we did have to make some concessions for the high water table. The buildings within Aldea were put up on concrete pylons and some gaps in the lower portion of their wall was created so that in case of a flooding event their location wouldn't turn into a big bowl and drown everyone. Their riverside defenses were pretty spectacular. I don't understand all of the fundamentals but Bob had managed to construct a couple of working cannons as well as some type of grappling hook that could be shot out of a large, high pressure barrel and used to pull ships in against the current or the will of the crew on the ship. That same high pressure barrel could also shoot harpoons strong enough to go through a metal boat hull or deck.

Birthdays came and went with little time to celebrate; mine in August and James' in September. It was hard to believe our kids were growing up so fast; then again I was just happy to be able to say my kids were growing up considering what the likely alternative was these days. I continued to plant and harvest the gardens, newly expanded since we didn't know when or if we would be able to trade in the future and since nearly all of the commercially prepared foods were gone, while Betty managed the native grove and the citrus grove. The kids helped every where they could but we could have still used at least a dozen more of them and still had work left over.

Those few of our members that had hesitated to move to Sanctuary or Aldea were finally convinced and room was made to accommodate them. The dome that we had been using as space for the kids was enlarged and Scott and Angus worked every spare minute they had – admittedly not many – to make it someplace safe but still an environment that was interesting enough that kids wouldn't go bonkers when they were quarantined in there as we planned.

Every building had a room built onto the outside of the entryway where someone could go in to deliver messages or whatever without actually having to enter the main building. We were stretching our equipment and solar capacities to keep all of the intercom systems charged as well as have lighting and fans for each dome. Every deep cycle and/or marine battery we have salvaged over the last year was put into use. Dix added a rotation on the duty roster solely for the purpose of checking those batteries and the charge. Glenn and I put together a form that contained all the batteries and their locations. Batteries within Sanctuary were S#, Aldea's were A#, and OSAG's were O#; seems simple enough until you realize there are hundreds of batteries between the three compounds in many different locations within each compound.

Some of the last salvage items that we brought in were two large copier machines and some other pieces of office stuff, including some nearly indestructible laptops that were once used by the local communication company technicians out in the field. Thecase of these things are shock proof and drop proof. A couple of the tech-savvy young bucks rebuilt the innards of these things and with 14 watt rolled solar cells for power we had the gizmos to build a pretty decent network. Last I heard some of them were talking about an intranet between the three compounds if we could figure out how to build and power enough mini-mainframes. That would be a trip if we could really pull that off. I don't know how they would be as far as we can tell most of the FiOS lines that were buried back in '08 and '09 in this area are still there, or we could somehow figure out how to use the landlines that we've strung so that we can have Morse Code capacity even if we have to go without verbal communication.

Personally I think we might be getting ahead of ourselves at this point but if it gives the guys something to look forward to, a way for them to take a breather from the stress of every day zombie issues, then what the heck, go for it. It's not like I haven't been envisioning an incline horse driven treadmill that we could use to power a grist mill for our dried grains. Aldea is hoping to have a water wheel up and running in the near future but that project has been put on hold until we get a handle on the Fungus Freaks. And they are never far from our thoughts these days.

The next sighting started the local hysteria. Seems a group of salvagers ran into one downtown … there are so many offices and nooks and crannies over there that are still gems left to find for the intrepid willing to climb dark stairwells and venture into deteriorating high rises. Somehow this zombie – or so the story goes anyway – made it up to the fortieth floor (there were a total of 42 floors) of the Regions Building. The zombie itself had very little animation left. It had fallen over and couldn't get up behind one of the executive desks in front of some big plate glass windows. The corpse was literally a carpet of mold, no telling if it had been male or female, what age, or even what clothes it had once worn. Actual mushrooms had begun to grow in the funk that was seeping from the decaying body.

The salvagers had already started having breathing difficulties by the time they got back down to the ground floor. They tried to pass it off as a reaction to mildew to the rest of their group. This would have been a likely excuse, most unoccupied buildings have a lot of mold and mildew in them these days, but the hysteria of one of the infected salvagers caused a lot of caution. They were quarantined by their group and … they were dead and moldy within forty-eight hours. And it was a hard death by all accounts.

When that story was passed around the different survivor groups most people with sense started reinforcing their locations and stocking up like they were finally developing a siege mentality. The stocking up part is when the public noticed we weren't trading any more, not that we had done a lot of it but we'd always been open to negotiations if certain items were being offered in exchange.

All the fear and uncertainty the other survivor groups were feeling suddenly had a focus … only it wasn't the zombies, it was us.

For the next several days people wanting to trade would come to the gates and then get a little miffed when we wouldn't trade. Then it turned into pathetic stories of hunger and then to anger with guns. Up to that point our physical defenses … the wall, the moat, the debris fields … helped us to avoid any real confrontation. Mostly it was like ignoring the door to door salesman. No matter how many times they knock you never had to answer the door.

It wasn't until one group tried to ram our gates with a bus that we were forced to actually defend ourselves with violence. That sucked. That sucked big time. It felt bad, like a crowd control situation that had gotten out of hand. Like the Lone Ranger had suddenly traded his white hat for black and had started robbing the coaches instead of catching the criminals. And through it all more fungus freaks were seen amongst the normal zombies. Oh God, can you imagine how bad things have to be to call zombies normal?

None of the TTT compounds could risk salvaging runs anymore. Outsiders would lie in wait and try to ambush them. We had one hostage situation … one. It was right after the bus incident. OSAG and Sanctuary laid waste to the group that did it, got our people back, and decided the rewards were no longer worth the risks. We were all cooped up and already some of the younger guys who had gotten used to getting out and about where starting to experience a type of cabin fever. A few night time exchanges of personnel and supplies keep their juices flowing but even that we've had to curtail. In the dark you can't really tell the zombies apart.

We've had sniper fire come our way, not as much as there was but it made walking the curtain wall a little more exciting than it needed to be. I got my first ever stitches from a rock shard after a lucky sniper's bullet hit the arrow slit I was walking by. I won't record for posterity what Scott had to say about it. Suffice it to say it was loud, long, creative and bilingual, and colored the air blue for yards in all directions. I'll have a neat little half-moon scar on my left shoulder to remind me of it for the rest of my life.

But the work must go on. Planting, harvesting, canning, drying, smoking. It seems like we've been at this forever but we still managed to do something new and exciting on occasion. We harvested our first cotton crop and our weaver has been overjoyed with the new materials. If we ever get trade up and running again her textiles will fetch a high trade, they're incredible. We also planted several fields of sugar cane. That was a job and a half but the pay off will be big even if we are the only ones left to enjoy it.

About the only joyous news we had lately is that Becky had her baby, a little girl. Matlock is crowing every chance he gets, which isn't often. We have to be very careful what personal information gets onto the airwaves.

We were adjusting, the same as we've always done. The new normal. Or should I say the new new normal. Then the stories on the radio got worse … lots worse. Once ZB makes the jump from zombie to human it becomes communicable live human to live human and infection didn't need to be obvious for it to occur. The Free Zone people have become even more ruthless than those of us trapped in the Dead Zones. The fear has become so great that even the suspicion of exposure to ZB is often an automatic death sentence. According to reports whole families are being burned alive after being trapped and nailed shut inside their homes.

One of the things so terrifying about ZB is that you can't just throw up a wall or barrier and expect to keep it out. You have to self-quarantine and to do that you must be prepared with all of the necessities for however long the duration of quarantine is. The way that resources were centralized in some communities made that impossible for many. The haves still controlled things while the have nots suffered for it. Sometimes the have nots had the skills necessary to become haves but that happened most often outside the Free Zone where the development of the survival instinct had been forced on everyone.

Inside the Free Zone there were still too many living the life of the entitlement mentality, sitting around waiting for their daily ration of the basic necessities of life. The drive to be self sufficient on an individual basis had just about been legislated out of existence. Those that got to the point where they could no longer tolerate the invasion of their existence to that extreme had escaped to the outer boarder country and from there into the quarantine zones as they searched for a place where they could pull their lives back together. What people remained within the Free Zone were soft … not physically, but mentally and spiritually. They were happy to let the NRSC run everything, including their lives, so long as they kept them fed, watered, and kept the zombies away.

But Zombie Breath changed that balance. The NRSC, no matter what they tried, couldn't stave off the inevitable. All it took was one live-human to contract ZB and it began to spread like wildfire. And as the live-human victims of ZB died their first death they more often than not returned as fungus freaks to continue spreading fear and contagion where ever they roamed. Even the standing army of the NRSC couldn't prevent whole towns from turning into dead zones.

The US military wasn't having any better luck. Bunkers were constructed, ports were further barricaded. The vacuum of their absence is being felt everywhere, but especially along the coast lines and borders. Violent incursions by pirates, raiders, and non-citizens is again increasing. Ironically enough, only the threat of ZB prevents this type of activity from getting even worse.

Internationally the Continental US is under a strict blockade. Not even our enemies seem to want to have anything to do with our land any more. But it is already too late and we have the pirates and foreign salvagers to thank for that. Their members would come on shore, become infected, return to their ship and then disembark like a plague ship of old. We've heard of sightings of fungus freaks in Mexico, Central America, South America, Canada, China, most of the Caribbean islands, several Pacific Islands that had actually managed to remain zombie free until greed ruined them, several Asian countries though it started most certainly in China. The Chinese also seemed to have spread it to Australia and Africa. From Eurasia the disease quickly spread to Europe. But the number of fungus freaks remains greatest here in the US … at least that is what is being reported. But we've noticed fewer and fewer broadcasts are coming out of places that claim to be infection free.

As for the TTT our world is shrinking again. Radios around the world are going silent. The military channels only transmit in code from unknown but highly fortified locations. Even Steve has been forced to limit the number of hours he is on the air as a result of fuel rationing for their big generators. We are producing the AldeaFuel in sufficient quantities, it's a matter of getting it to them. OSAG, for their part, is trying to start a sufficiently high volume biodiesel operation that they aren't as dependent on AdleaFuel, or at least can use the biodiesel for some things and save the AldeaFuel for the big generators that require a very clean burning fuel.

Working guard duty in a hazmat suit is awful. We have to work in shorter shifts or we'd all cook and die of heat stroke. Those blasted suits aren't made for comfort and they certainly weren't designed to be worn for hours on end in the Florida heat and humidity. And it never fails that at least one shift has to deal with an attack. If it is a zombie attack … even a fungus freak incursion … we can deal with it. Apparently ZB inhibits the special trait zombies … like the runners and climbers … at least as well as it inhibits the functioning of the regular-flavored zombies.

It's when we have to face live-humans that things get difficult. The kids hear the screaming, the cursing … the dying. They hear men and women blaming us that their kids are dying, screaming curses that our own kids die horrible deaths, often describing them in horrific detail. God forgive me but I shot one woman just to shut her up after she begged God to send raiders to rape our children of both sexes. I'll answer for that one day just like all the other deaths, but I'm not sure that I can be as sorry for that one as all the rest. That's the one that sent several of the youngest girls, mine included, over the edge. Crying and asking why people are wishing that stuff on them, on us.

If the young bucks are feeling the pain of captivity one way, other older ones are exhibiting their pain in other ways. Angus, Scott, Jim, Dix and a few of the others have taken to prowling. Sometimes their feelings get so big inside themselves that all they can do is walk. Glenn and Bob release their tension by coming up with new and ever more creative ways to destroy the enemy. I can't imagine that half the things they've drawn out are even possible, but it vents their spleen and keeps them from going terminally crazy.

Last night has been the worst but it was a play that had already been written and was only waiting for the right actors to hit the marks. We had a group of people trying to break into Sanctuary, demanding that we take them in. They brought children with them, held them up making it next to impossible for us to return fire. All that noise … it drew zombies as it always does, but this time the number of zombies was larger than usual. It was Damon that spotted the infected zombie in the midst of the small horde.

What could we do? We used the bullhorn, all but begged the attackers to leave and find shelter but they were having none of it. They thought we'd relent if they got into enough danger, enough trouble. They underestimated our resolve to keep our own children safe. We had already sent out the word to have everyone hit their shelter positions. We have plans on the books to connect all the shelters by enclosed walkways but all we've managed to do is pour the sidewalks the protective walkways will be built over.

It was only those of us on the wall that witnessed the carnage; watched as the few survivors of the massacre escaped, knowing they would spread ZB to anyone they came in contact with. We had no choice. We shot them in the back, but God help us, none of us could shoot the pregnant woman. It would have been kinder for her if we had. Who knows the agony she will feel before she finally dies, as the life of the child she carries is snuffed out. She is so far along we can only pray that her fetus is still too undeveloped to turn, though not a one of us really seems to be able to avoid that particular nightmare regardless of what that doctor claimed all those months ago about the level of electrical brain function playing a pivotal role in NRS infection.

Is it any wonder we aren't all mad as a monkey on a tricycle? That we aren't all as used up as a six pack missing five cans? Right now I feel like I've got more loose screws than a cat house full of old robot hookers.


	297. Year 2 - October 1st

**October 1st** – Been a few days and I've finally managed to figure out what day it actually is. Not that it necessarily means anything right now but it is helpful for trying to plan my garden activities. I try and keep myself as busy as possible, we all do. In some ways this is nearly as bad as those early days of the societal collapse. We do have some things better, no doubt about it, but the restrictions necessarily imposed right now are pretty intense just like then.

For instance, gardening in a full hazmat suit is next to impossible. For one you can't really get a full view of what you are doing because of the stupid head thing. Then there is the fact that those suckers are hot and that face mask thingie gets fogged up like the inside of a greenhouse. Then there is the potential damage to the suit since they weren't exactly designed to be worn during heavy labor. What a mess. So I've gone to wearing coveralls, gloves, full boots, total hair coverage, goggles, and a mask made from the bamboo material that we have been weaving to replace other fabric that is wearing out. It still gets in the way but it's the best compromise we could come up with.

The kids stay indoors at all times and there are days it simply doesn't pay to be an adult caretaker of that crowd of wall crawlers. Scott and Angus and a few of the other guys designed and built a kind of gymnasium for them that connects some of the pods we set up for their use. Glenn planned the salvage, Dix executed the security for the extended run, and Bob was the lead on setting them back up.

Out near the port on one of the canals is a dry dock for these expensive yachts. It was like a warehouse on the water. The metal skin of the work area was attached to these metal rib things that ran like arches inside the structure. Our people dismantled the whole thing but it took some blow torches to do it … AldeaFuel to the rescue … and then used a flatbed to haul all it back to Sanctuary. The metal "ribs" were reassembled, additional metals was welded between the ribs like a webbing per Bob's design, and then we inflated one of those balloons inside the ribbing. It took several days but they sprayed that concrete stuff over the whole structure and the metal ribs and webbing served the purpose of an oversized rebar. Angus built what amounts to an obstacle course inside but at the same time the obstacle course components can be removed so that the space can be used as a basketball court, kickball, etc. It's big enough that the kids can even jog around the perimeter.

Ski and some of the other guys with talents like some of the self-defense certificates or whatever you want to call it take turns teaching the kids different things and making sure they keep active in a healthy way … mind and body. Their spirit isn't neglected either. Once a week I teach age appropriate classes on worldviews going over what each of the major world religions have in common and how they are different and how they view their immediate world and how they view the afterlife. The class is strictly informative, I don't evangelize at all but will answer their questions if they come to me privately of their own choice during their free time. We do have a Bible study type of thing on the Sabbath for our family but it is completely separate from any of the "school" activities the kids participate in as a group. Sometimes some of the other kids want to come and sometimes not. Samuel comes over most of the time but I haven't figured out yet if it is because he is really interested or if he is just looking to fill a vacuum because his parents are completely agnostic on the subject.

I'm rather proud of the "school" we have. We teach the three R's as mandatory subjects. Glenn and Scott are also teaching history using a chronological approach and in that coursework we bring in geography and science. For instance when they were covering Ancient Greece they covered mapping the Mediterranean, southern Europe, and northern Africa and things like Thales of Miletus who is regarded as the father of science, Eratosthenes of Alexandria's summaries of astronomy, Aristotle's botanical catalogs, and Hippodamus, Archimedes, Hero, and Eupalimus who designed and built the public water works that served the Greek city states. Bob even took a hand in teaching them about architecture such as foundations, columns and arches though I could tell he much preferred teaching metalworking.

Some of the older kids were allowed into an area for weapons training and target practice and this was taught primarily by Angus and Jim though Dix continues to have a hand in teaching any that show a particular talent for sharpshooting. James has finally gotten back to full strength. It's been pretty hair raising for Scott and I. He'd seem to be on the fast track to recovery when suddenly he would stop and take two or three steps back. Ski said he's immune system had been pretty compromised from the infections and building it back up took time; every little set back seemed exaggerated in response to this.

We've had a few pairings occurring between the young bucks and Mr. Choi's girls but nothing serious, at least not yet except for Chad and that was before we all became cooped up inside Sanctuary. All of the Koreans now speak English though sometimes haltingly, searching for words that are obviously foreign to them. And we've learned some Korean, especially Sarah and Bekah who both love archery. I don't think Sarah could ever use it against another person but it is still a good skill to have. On the other hand she might surprise us. She managed to kill a raccoon she caught in the hen house trying to get into the chicks we had hatching in the incubator. She took it straight to Angus and then ran to her Daddy and started crying. She's always going to be a bit of a softie despite what she has experienced over the last year and some odd months and Scott will always do his best to protect his girls from the harsher things in life.

Speaking of harsher things, it's much easier to write about the hope we have in the future than the despair we feel nearly every day. Any of us on wall duty have to wear hazmat suits because the number of ZB infected zombies has increased dramatically … in direct correlation to the falling number of survivors. Sometimes it feels like the TTT is the last civilian bastion of life in the world. Things will go so quiet on the radio that it is like everyone else is just gone … eaten or infected. Then we'll hear from a group we thought destroyed and the joy we feel is just impossible to quantify.

We know that there are groups of survivors that have taken back over islands like Ft. Desoto, Tierra Verde, Treasure Island and the other small communities along Gulf Blvd. They have large bodies of water on both sides and they created blockades on the few undamaged bridges. Pirates were a problem for a while but with ZB being what it is even our enemies are fewer and farther between. Anna Maria Island has another large group but they recently suffered a pretty serious attack by raiders they suspect were originally from Central or South America and they went off air until they were able to clean up their newly expanded zombie population. We know there was a community on Long Boat Key but we haven't heard from them in quite some time. It could just mean that their radio equipment went bad or they ran out of fuel for it but we don't know for sure so we've outlined the island in orange.

Our map is an expansion of what we had been doing locally. Green is for known communities that are fairing nearly as well as we are. Yellow is for known communities operating as best they can but not as successfully as we are. Orange is for communities in danger of falling or who have fallen silent and we aren't sure what their status is. Red is for known infected zones and for communities we know have fallen. As fluid as the situation is we'd be going nuts trying to keep up with the maps if it wasn't for Nelson.

I don't think I even wrote about Nelson. Nelson is … odd. There isn't any other way to put it. In his own words until NRS occurred his life revolved around Red Bull and Blue Screens. He was some type of computer animation artist or graphic artist or whatever the heck you call those people that used to do the computer generated animation and backgrounds for movies. He was working over in Orlando and hadn't even noticed what was going on with NRS for a long time. It didn't even really hit him until the power went down and suddenly he had to find something else to do besides be on the computer for days at a time.

He told us that there was a group living in the big Disney complex but some of them were a little on the crazy side. They were almost maniacal about maintaining the parks and grounds because "one day Disney will again be the mecca it was." Uh, yeah. Not that it isn't great to have a goal but that does sound a little crazy.

Nelson got kicked out because he got tired of being kicked around. "There was no way for me to do some of the things they wanted me to. No way could I get the power going to a complex that large or even get a single ride up and running, the power draw was just too big. Some of those people are smoking dope … literally, they have it growing in the back lots … and are living in Fantasy Land a little too much."

So when he got run off he just started walking down I4. "I learned to survive because I had to though I came close to giving up a few times. I was a fat guy with no idea how to make it in the real world much less one infested by zombies. I was lucky I didn't starve to death in the first week but I had plenty of padding … at least back then … that held me over between meals."

He just showed up one morning. Dix still isn't sure we did the right thing by bringing him in. Nelson and Dix aren't what you call real compatible personality types. It's not an adversarial relationship it is that Nelson is a pig and Dix is really hyper neat. Nelson likes to get in his little digs and messes with the stuff on Dix's desk which drives anal Dix up a wall.

J. Paul was the one that spotted Nelson walking up to the wall. "Yo Dude, is this place real or a figment of my imagination? If you guys are a figment you are totally Cameronesque, you know?"

Ski kept him in quarantine a week because he couldn't decide if he was crazy or not. Eventually with food and some socializing he acted a little closer to normal. On the other hand I don't think he'll ever be your average type of guy; if it doesn't have something to do with computers he can be really, really random. Angus keeps threatening to get him drunk to see if that'll help at all but personally I think Nelson is a little scared of Angus and Angus, the big stinker, doesn't do anything to help things. He gets a big kick out of it, and Jim who is just as big a stinker encourages the whole situation and makes it worse by acting over the top Aussie.

But no one denies that Nelson has helped and is pulling his weight. It was no small feat to get the computers set up and make sure the power was the right kind that wouldn't fry the components. We are being careful not to become reliant on the technology but for what we use it for it is nice to have. Having CAD capabilities has shortened Scott's time at the desk which he appreciates to no end. Nelson managed to import and then upgrade the inventory database that we started last year. Dix and Glenn appreciate the mapping and 3D capabilities.

Obtaining and networking the technology was no easy feat. Nelson took it above. Glenn built him a bunker and then using a similar set up as the Cooler turned the inside of the bunker into an air conditioned facility to house the series of mainframes that we scavenged at the university with OSAG's help. Steve's people had already located plenty of potentially useful equipment and wanted to set up their own network for communication purposes and tracking of survivors that call into the radio show. Aldea was more problematic because of the high humidity over on the river but they too got a network up and running.

Again, these advances are all well and good, but they are merely a distraction from what takes up the majority of our day. Fungus Freaks and potentially infected survivors … angry, potentially infected survivors.

The attacks on Sanctuary and OSAG have not ceased. Sometimes they sputter to a stop for a while but then it seems that they'll pick up and things will get really crazy again. Thank goodness we've managed to keep all of the burnables on the inside of Sanctuary though we had another big fire come closer than was comfortable. Big Fire I and Big Fire II created a fire break that protected us from this last one but it did jump the line in a few places. We haven't been out that way in a while but the fire marched south on Dale Mabry for several miles before being put out by a late tropical storm down pour. If fuels was more available I'd be worried about Molotov cocktails being thrown at us but we've only gotten flaming arrows and similar things.

It mostly just hurts to turn these people away. They are begging for help. We threw packages down to the first few but that only caused more problems than it solved. Soon we were surrounded by beggars demanding that we help them. We just can't. Our first responsibilities are to our own. We tried to go the route of telling them what to do to help themselves but that only seemed to madden them. Their answer was, "No! You have stuff and you should share it." Bull honkey. We worked our tails off and risked our lives. It seems that the entitlement mentality still hasn't be removed from the human experience.

No beggars today though, instead we dealt with the fungus freaks. Dix and Glenn have marked a "shooting range" when one or more of those fungus freaks come near Sanctuary. If the freaks stay outside that perimeter then we leave them alone though regular zombies are fair game. If the fungus freaks come inside that perimeter then they are put down. The reason for the strict perimeter is because we have a sort of water cannon that we use to shoot hydrogen peroxide at the carcass and dissolve it the best we can.

Uh oh, gotta go, I just received a call from Rose. She needs me to stop at the house and grab David's spare pair of boots. He was helping Scott and Bob manhandle something into place and his shoe finally split all down the seam when something when through it.


	298. Year 2 - October 3rd

October 3rd of Year 2

It was just too hard to count up all the missed days. Everything is too hard to do today. I took a bad tumble yesterday trying to avoid an arrow that came from out of dune buggy kind of thing that was circling the wall for a while. The arrow was actually more like a dart, a really big dart.

I don't know what they were shooting them with but the darts kind of sputted out of the back window really quick. There were five of them. I shouldn't have had to move the way I did but the last dart deflected off of one of the crenellations and flipped up and then started coming straight down. I backed up and moved to the right to avoid it and stepped back into the stairwell with half my foot. I lost my balance and you can imagine what followed.

Everyone thought I'd been hit at first. My head piece flew off and I'd scrapped my cheek and hand on the inside of the concrete wall on my way down so there was blood. I was also pretty disoriented. Scott had rushed over and telling me to stay down until Ski could check me over when there was a BOOM BANG BOOM. The "darts" had been rigged up like oversized firecrackers. They didn't do any damage and two of them were duds … but they could have. You would think we wouldn't need wake up calls anymore but this provided a new one.

What happened that night was even worse. Someone, possibly the same group since they seem to be a little more sophisticated than most other survivor groups we've had experience with, strapped some explosives to a zombie. They tossed a small device that kept going off like an alarm that landed right at our wall and then turned the zombie loose. This went on most of the night … tossing the sound "bombs" and then releasing the booby trapped zombies. We've run into some sick stuff but that is up there; not the top, but definitely up there.

At least we had the night vision goggle we took off those NRSC goons; without them we would have been forced to hit the spotlights and that could have made things worse. Nothing like becoming a target to hit your target.

The creeps were gone this morning and while we could have sent a tracking team after them under other circumstances we are pretty sure it will be unnecessary. A couple of fungus freaks showed up during the night and were passing fairly close to some of the positions that were being used by the creeps. Through our night vision goggles it was pretty obvious the creeps were unaware of the danger they were in. The way they took off about four this morning may indicate that they saw the fungus freaks and were leaving the area to get away. If they aren't already infected I'll be surprised.

We were all just exhausted. Dix sent half of us to bed and then gave a quick rotation through the day so that we could recuperate as much as possible. I wasn't allowed back on the wall last night and it is going to be three or four more days before I can get back up there. One I'm pretty stiff and can't move as fast as I need to and two my face is a wreck and putting that head gear on just plain hurts.

I scared the dickens out of the kids when they saw my face and then it just distracted them from their school work and chores so that was out. Charlene and I wound up cracking pecans to get the nutmeats and then tossing the shells into the compost pile. The pecans were used to make pecan pies for dessert and it had been a while since I'd had anything that rich to eat; nearly locked my jaws.

Angus has been up to his tricks again … or whatever you want to call it when he swears he's hearing dragons after he's had a couple of mugs of that mead he and Jim brew up. Or maybe it was the stuff from the still; the fumes from that stuff can knock flies out of the sky. Either way he was up in one of the towers tonight watching the sky. How he got up there with his knee still all wrecked to heck none of us know, usually he'll consent to letting someone operate the elevator when he wants to get up there.

Now Dix has the guards combing the sky as well as the ground. David said … crud, I forgot to put in here what happened to David. His foot is bruised pretty bad from being pinched but the skin isn't broken thank goodness. A metal roller broke off of a cart they were using to haul some ammo up the elevator. David and James grabbed the cart to keep it on the elevator platform but in the process the corner of the cart tore into his boot and pinched it bad enough to bust the blood vessels on the top of his foot. Angus said he would show him how to make some moccasin type foot ware as soon as the swelling goes down.

Everyone's foot ware is getting worn. While it has been warm weather the kids have been able to go around in tire sandals but with cooler weather rolling back around in a couple of months we really do need to be thinking about what to do for everyone whose shoes are wearing out. It seems that it is always feast or famine.


	299. Year 2 - October 5th

October 5th Year 2

Spent the day baking, sure as heck wasn't getting back on wall detail for a few more days; I'm still limping and I've pulled something in the back of my leg. Ski thinks I might have a minor hamstring pull. Minor? I can only hope. I remember when James pulled a hamstring during football season; it took nearly six months to completely heal and not act up ever so often.

We haven't had any more trouble from whomever it was playing the nasty tricks with the zombies. Dix … all the men really … said they probably were among the walking mushrooms or will be shortly. How stupid do people have to be to pull stunts like they did? Or maybe I shouldn't be so hard on them and instead ask how desperate do they have to be? It's depressing either way you look at it. Too bad because we are already running a surplus on depressing.

Local radio has become very quiet but there are still some operating. It is the same all over, the Fungus Freaks are flourishing. The consensus is the only way to be sure to stop the infection from running rampant is to destroy the corpses by fire … whether they are up and moving or whether they've taken the requisite head shot. We do roughly the same thing with the undiluted hydrogen peroxide with the added benefit of killing any other unhealthy critters that might be lurking around the corpse. Hasn't done the landscaping a whole lot of good though; you can see the spots where we've dissolved the dead and it is pretty nasty to look at.

I can't look out there too long or I get depressed. I try and focus my attention and energy inside Sanctuary, where life and living still rules. Thinking about outside leads down too many dark bunny trails. So today I went to work in the kitchen … the old one, not the new one that was built that all the women favor. I like the old one even if it is a little archaic. I guess it is akin to Scott preferring to work with his hands rather than with automatic tools when he has the time. I'm not against the return of the alternative modern conveniences, just there is a certain amount of comfort in doing things the old way.

Today I made something from a radio broadcast if you want to believe that. Some people are still trying to have a life without constant panic. There is this family that has been offering survival tips for nearly 9 months now. At first they stuck to the really basic stuff like sanitizing water, hygiene issues, how to avoid the zombies and that sort of thing. Then they branched out into more details like fortifications, hunting, how to make a still. Now they do a little bit of everything and it is kind of cool. I had my foot propped up and stuck in place when one of their unscheduled transmissions came out and the woman, presumably the wife/mother of the group, was talking about how to get around the lack of flour or meal.

First thing she mentioned, which I knew but it is nice to have another recipe in the arsenal, is that you can use nut meal as a kind of flour substitute. This recipe she called Mock Walnut Bread. You chop up one cup of walnuts as fine as possible (preferably in a food processor) then added one whole egg. The dough will be a bit sticky. Next you lightly coat a small cast iron pan with grease (not much) and then press some of the dough into a flat round and cook it in the pan turning once. Salt to taste if you need it. I found it very similar to making tortillas with masa flour and they tasted OK, well not bad really, but I wouldn't want to exist on a steady diet of them.

The other recipe she gave was for something called Alaskan Fruit Cake. Man, now that was some kind of good. She gave this one because not everyone had a substitute so you want to make each bit you do have go as far as possible. We have enough surplus in our stores these days that I didn't feel guilty pinching a little extra here and there, especially considering I did a lot of the work to get our pantries in the shape they are in.

First you line tw 3-inch loaf pans with heavy brown paper, then grease the paper really well. Next rinse, drain and coarsely chop three cups of raisins. Chop three cups of mixed candied fruit and peels. Combine all fruits with one cup of cider, sherry or brandy. Cover and let stand overnight. Next day you cream one cup of white sugar, one cup of brown sugar and two-thirds cup of shortening and then mix in one and one-half teaspoons of ground cinnamon, one teaspoon of nutmeg, and one-half teaspoon of allspice until everything is fluffy. Beat in two eggs. Stir in one cup of sourdough starter and combine with fruit mixture and almonds. Sift one cup of all-purpose flour, one teaspoon of baking soda and two teaspoons of salt together into batter and mix thoroughly. Turn into the prepared loaf pans and bake below oven center in 275 degree F oven about 2 1/2 hours. Remove from the pans and cool on wire racks before removing paper. You can spoon 2 to 3 additional tablespoons of sherry or hard cider over each cooled loaf before storing and you store the loaves by wrapping them in foil and keeping them very cool.

I made eight of those loaves to rotate out some of the candied fruit and peel that was getting a little fermented in storage. One loaf I split with the family during tea time and the others went into our new Cooler which is almost like a walk in building now.

That was some heavy batter and my arms is sore. One of my wooden spoons bit the dust during the first batch and for some reason it made me cry. I think it was because it was one of Mom's that Scott brought back all those months ago. Amazing how things we took for granted just up and vanish or wear out like that. Glenn dropped a pair of binoculars he was real fond of and it cracked one of the little thingies inside and now you can't focus one of the sides. He really let fly with some fancy cussing that's for sure. They were supposed to be one of those high impact binoculars so it must have been defective or hit just the right way to break them. Either way he spent almost a day finding a pair in the NRSC gear that suited him as well as those had.

All sorts of little odds and ends are wearing out or breaking. Taken individually they really aren't that bad and no need for the emotional breakdown that some of them bring. On the other hand, if you take in the big picture, it is a symptom of a society that built in obsolescence to just about everything we made. Sad. It is just one more brick in the wall that proves that nothing lasts forever.


	300. Year 2 - Early November

_**Early November, Year 2**_

Haven't had much heart to write lately. We had a very bad scare followed by some heartbreak. Things are better now but there are still painful shadows that might take a lifetime to escape.

Day after last time I wrote we had a run in with a small horde of real persistent fungus freaks. They came in the night and although we weren't completely surrounded, we had them at both gates. We couldn't figure out why they always seemed to know where to congregate. There was a brief discussion on whether the zombies were increasing in intelligence until Angus noticed the dogs were acting strange.

Someone had attached several of those little gizmos you used to put on the front of your car to warn animals to stay away. There was just enough breeze to intermittently activate them, drawing the attention of the zombies. Those things are small and they had placed them so they weren't obvious. Glenn and Dix are fit to be tied that someone got that close to the gate and we didn't see. What if it had been explosives or some type of listening device that had been attached?

It has to be someone from that group that tried to get us before. Well, it doesn't have to be them but it's scary to think there is more than one group out to destroy us. Isn't the NRSC bad enough? And frankly we aren't discounting it being them to begin with.

Then just 24 hours after that some of the guys that had been on the wall that night got sick including Scott and David. It seemed to go straight to their lungs. No one said anything openly though they were all put into quarantine; but I can tell you many of us were terrified in private. The kids and their caregivers were put into lockdown but it wasn't quick enough. Sarah, Bekah, and Johnnie all came down sick at the same time. It took another 72 hours for Ski and the medical staff at OSAG to confirm that it was a rampant upper respiratory infection and not ZB.

I fell on my knees in relief and thanksgiving. I escaped the virus for almost three weeks and then collapsed on the day that Johnnie's fever finally broke. I lost nearly a whole week. The next thing I remember is Scott bathing me. The weather has cooled off but not that much and if those of us with the highest fevers hadn't been tended with such dedication, ultimately dehydration would have overwhelmed our system.

I was barely on my feet again when the heartbreak happened. Some of the men believe that it was orchestrated and I have to admit leaning in that direction myself. It was too strange and coincidental to be a completely natural event.

A woman drove up to the main gate with a special needs bus full of kids. We were immediately on alert when we saw she was wearing some pretty expensive looking hazmat gear … and the kids were not. She claimed it was for the kids' protection rather than the other way around but that was hard to swallow. She made a pathetic plea to us to take the kids in. But it was coming on night and we asked her to stay with the kids until morning for our answer. We were all set to actually do something to help them when we discovered she had disappeared in the night leaving the kids behind. We weren't sure what was going on but the possibility that she had done it to force our hand made us even more leery. But what were we supposed to do? Leave all those kids crying down in the bus to die of thirst and hunger?

Ski volunteered to go out to check on the kids and take them some supplies. He reported back that the kids' appearance didn't match the woman's. Most of them were obviously mentally challenged in some way. Several were in locked down wheelchairs, some were in car seats. All of them seemed feral in sway as well as poorly taken care of even by today's standards. One of them had on a t-shirt that said Colorado State though that could have been coincidental.

Ski did what he could for them without endangering himself … some tried to bite him … but under the best of conditions taking care of the needs of these children would have been difficult. And this was far from the best of conditions. Scott and James were providing security for the busload until Ski could get back. James was the first to suspect and then notice the signs that the kids were infected. By the time Ski got back one of the kids was beginning to exhibit the common symptom of foaming at the corner of his mouth and a very thick and glutinous green snot running from his nose.

Within six hours it was obvious that all of the kids were infected; and while ZB moves fast, it doesn't move that fast. They had to be infected before they were dropped off like unwanted kittens. How do you justify euthanizing helpless kids like that? Ski shot them up with some kind of stuff he'd been working on just in case the situation ever arose. It didn't kill but it completely incapacitated and killed the pain. Once the human body completely shut down and died he then sanitized the corpses so they didn't actually come back. It was a gruesome sight. The "mold" of advanced ZB covered their bodies and the interior of the van every where their bodily fluids touched.

We pulled the bus away from the gate and burned it over and over until we were sure that nothing escaped. What a horror. The only question left is whether they were infected with ZB on purpose? And if so, by whom?


End file.
